Unhappy - english version -

                “And our scarlet stars shines singular   
                Over all countries and oceans
                Like implemented dream…”

                (The Soviet song)

         

                UNHAPPY
                (Fantastic story)

                I

       Stages of his life are well known.
 
       His childhood in the communal flat among neighbors, their children, scandals, queues for  common areas; often drunken father returning home late and  beat him and mother.

       Adolescence – at the school, in the yard and on the street; lack of any desire for knowledge, envy of more capable children, dislike of excellent pupils, all teachers, all Jews, and an irrepressible desire to be the leader in group of teenagers.  Youth - daily lust, parties; conversations with peers about his love affairs; reading books without interest; absence of hobbies; creating visibility that only he himself is the best, only he is the first; studying at technical college with an average grade of "satisfactory"; graduating from college and applying for a job to the huge secret "mailbox".

       Adulthood – his first addiction to alcohol, marriage a co-worker after living together for some time; father-in-law – deputy minister; the birth of daughters; working from morning until night, despite the natural laziness, for the sake of a career. A transition to community work as a party committee secretary of the secret "mailbox"; graduation from the highest party school; and then – his election as the Secretary of capital's district Communist party committee.

       Most Soviet citizens of the 1970s and 1980s could only dream of such a worthy, and at the same time, stereotypical career as that have carried on the shoulders of Vyacheslav Ivanovich Lityagin, now the general director of the joint-stock company "Component".  He was, in a sense, a product of the era of "stagnation", which had raised a whole pleiad of persons with large ambitious, superficial, absolutely indifferent to everything in the world except themselves, for whom the word "maybe" had become both a motto and  guiding star in their life. Such persons demand loans for vodka on the street  from even slightest acquaintance with the same ease as they promise to do  impossible for petitioners, without any concern for how to repay money or fulfill promise, because the fate of creditors, like lives of petitioners, does not concern them at all. They are concerned with satisfying their own needs—from obtaining a coveted bottle to building the palace by the sea. To achieve these goals, they will stop at nothing, even their own conscience.

       Vyacheslav Ivanovich was apparently elected the First Secretary by mistake, as he wasn't particularly distinguished by initiative or intelligence. In those years, democratic processes hadn't yet taken hold in society, and he was elected in the usual way for the Communist party nomenclature —by personal data. Meanwhile, there was no benefit from him sitting in his office, whether holding a conference, receiving visitors, or riding around the district in his personal car, because all the work in the district went on as always, as if on a well-trodden track - endless conferences, sessions, unanimous votes, and propaganda events. All of this was prepared by the district committee staff, as was customary, while Lityagin was alone “recovering” in his rest room, adjacent to his office, after another evening of drinking at some banquet or reception. True, various visitors often came to him with their troubles, problems, and initiatives — he would sign off orders to his staff's: "Please see into".  The staff reviewed, monitored, and reported. But all of that wasn't the main thing. The most important thing was that during his tenure as the First Secretary, he improved his living conditions, obtaining a five-room apartment for four family members in one elite building, contrary to existing regulations, built  the two-story dacha, arranged for his daughter to the University, and was shopping at specialty stores.

       Vyacheslav Ivanovich, as usual, reacted to Gorbachev’s "perestroika" with indifference, dismissing it as a routine measure, and he stuck to this opinion until something affected him personally. That`s when Vyacheslav Ivanovich's quite successful career began to falter. It all began when, at the party conference, in a secret ballot, he barely received required half of the votes for his candidacy.

       However, it wasn't the circumstance that upset him so much. Worst of all, the Moscow city party committee had received some letter alleging that he had abused his official position in obtaining the apartment. The really threat became  that the apartment could be confiscated and he himself would be returned to his previous place of residence.

       A lucky coincidence occurred: the famous August 1991 putsch and ban of   activities of the Communist Party of Soviet the Union had saved him from dismissal of the First Secretary.

       Lityagin returned to his chemical company as deputy director. It turned out not to be so bad for him, even good! The general director soon died, and Ministry nominated Vyacheslav Ivanovich  for the vacancy. However, there was nothing to make at all, as the company had lost two-thirds of its contracts and, consequently, the  employees as a result of general conversion. They had to survive by renting out premises.

       Vyacheslav Ivanovich also reacted indifferently to the collapse of the USSR. While there was certainly plenty to grumble and even mourn about, but he didn't take the country's problems to heart. On introduction market relations in the country he primarily spent incomes from the rent out premises to some fur store for equipping his own office. As a result, his office quarters began to resemble a sheikh's residence, complete with everything, including fountain in recreation room, jacuzzi and bedroom. The "commission" from this deal also went toward buying luxury BMW. Vyacheslav Ivanovich's appetites were growing by leaps and bounds. With the proceeds from rental space, he have bought new furniture, flats for his daughters, and new fur coat and luxury car for his wife. Now he dressed to the nines, went to lunch and dinner to the restaurant, also equipped on the ground floor of the company, drank as always without measure, and was completely uninterested either production or the work collective, entrusting these cares to his deputies. At the same time, the company's staff, exhausted by adversity, was subject to further layoffs, while those who remained in their jobs were not receiving their salaries.

       Lityagin was also indifferent to his family. He had completely neglected his parents since his marriage. He was so uninterested in their fate that he skipped his own father's funeral, citing the need to leave for an extended business trip; and he completely forgot about his ailing mother, who now begged on the metro for lack of funds. His daughters were raising by his wife, and he believed that by providing for them financially, he was making a worthy contribution to strengthening the family, where they began to see him not as a loving husband and father, but as an inexhaustible bag of money, and treated him exclusively as a consumer. He regularly visited his wife's parents on feast-days with congratulations, but only until his father-in-law retired from his high position and was no longer able to help if necessary.

       Vyacheslav Ivanovich himself had grown fat and flabby, his face became red and covered in sweat, and his eyes were clouded by haze. Every season, he went on vacation abroad, where he spent huge sums of money on entertainment and girls  who also saw him as a bottomless source of income. He began dreaming of his own villa with a plot of land on the seashore somewhere in Cyprus or Greece, where he could relax without spending money on expensive hotels. However, he didn't have enough money for this yet, and it wasn't expected to happen, as there were no profitable deals to be had and no additional rental properties were available.

       Despite the changes in social order, Vyacheslav Ivanovich's mind remained unchanged. And why should it have? Just as he had previously sat on the presidiums of party plenary sessions and conferences, so now he attended meetings of the work collective, shareholders of the commercial bank, and the public council of the political movement "Keep It Up!" where he had been nominated and he accepted in the hope of receiving  personal car at government expense. Just as he  had previously read false speeches from the tribune at party forums, he now lied in front of  public without document, that the company was barely making ends meet and that the long-awaited money from the state budget is about to arrive to pay  workers' salaries for the last year. Actually, all this props was still necessary to him simply to show off and maintain his image as an experienced and active man. Simply, that was done before for the sake of his career, but now – for profit.

       However, over the past year, circumstances have really put Lityagin in a bind. He couldn't even think about dacha on the Mediterranean coast, let alone a seasonal vacation abroad. Cash flow has diminished, tenants haven't received their clients' money, the company hasn't received theirs, employees – their salaries since January, and our hero hasn't received his “commission”. Vyacheslav Ivanovich's indifference was enough even not be upset about this fact; perhaps everything will work out – he was thought – there's enough money for now  and  to live for a year or two, to go for rest to Antalya a couple of times, and then — we'll see.

       Just then, a good deal came his way. One afternoon, a certain Mansur came to him and introduced himself as the owner of the large recycling company.

       – Could you, – he says, – sell me something you don't need? I know your warehouses are full of all sorts of things.

       Vyacheslav Ivanovich, with habitual gesture, reached for the button to communicate with his deputy to ask how much garbage is there on the enterprise’s territory, but Mansur stopped him.

       – Wait before you let any of your subordinates into our conversation, – the Caucasian pronounced quietly.

       – I just wanted to ask for advice, – Lityagin said.
 
        – You should consult with me first.

For the first time in many years, since he had been dependent on the secretariat of the city party committee, Lityagin didn't feel completely in control. This left him flustered and, unsure of what to say, he folded his hands over his ample belly and stared at his interlocutor.

       – I know there's a lot of A-mixture accumulated on your premises, – Mansur continued, –Would you mind dispose of this mixture along with some other junk? I am assuring you: the compensation for you, Vyacheslav Ivanovich, will be very, very generous. One hundred thousand bucks...

       The dream of acquiring villa on the Mediterranean once again dawned on the general manager’s meager and reckless mind, and  prospect of scrapping  tons of the hitherto useless A-mixture, which the company had once produced in large quantities for blasting operations, seemed perfectly suited for realization of this plan.

       – How much do you need? – he asked.

       – Twenty tons to start.

       Lityagin promised to think about it and let him know in two days. However, this was just for show; in reality he didn't even doubt the buyer. He also didn't care about  dangerous nature of this deal, because its obvious benefits were paramount.
 
       As a deeply indifferent man, Vyacheslav Ivanovich didn't bother to inquire into the details. How could he have known that the A-mixture Mansur was buying was needed for terrorist attacks? Even if he had got to know about this, he would probably have responded with his usual: "Nonsense! Stop that talking!" "What means  terrorists! – he would have said – "Nothing like that will happen at all! After all, there are services that suppress this activity, so let them do their job, but I need to survive!"

       In short, nothing—not even remaining  grains of conscience, not even a sense of dread at the prospect of falling under the criminal code — noting could stop Lityagin from selling several tens of tons of potential explosives under the guise of chemical waste decommissioning and disposing. It was decided to ship three batches of twenty tons each, for which it was promised three hundred thousand “green bills”* to our general director.

       – I need to involve my deputy for economic affairs in this matter,– he told Mansur at their next meeting.

       – Really? We wouldn't want any extra witnesses, – he objected.
 
       – Alright, alright. We'll think about it,– Vyacheslav Ivanovich began to   fuss, – When would you like to pay?

       – I brought you an advance, – Mansur placed his briefcase on the table and opened it, pointing to the neatly stacked wads, – Count them. There's one hundred and fifty thousand here. The rest you'll get when the third batch will arrive.

       Lityagin couldn't hide his excitement. With trembling hands, he pulled out one wad of dollars and carefully examined it, then did the same with others.

       – Let’s tousle them? –  he tried to joke out of place, but Mansur only stared sullenly with his faded eyes at the top of his head and didn't support.
The same day, Lityagin gave his deputy an order:

       – We need to clean out in the warehouse. There's a lot of unnecessary junk there. I've already made arrangements with the recycling company. A truck will arrive tomorrow at ten. Help them to load it.

       – Have mercy, Vyacheslav Ivanovich. Besides the junk, there's about sixty tons of A-mixture. Should we load it too? Won't they put us in jail?

       – Igor Vasilich, don't argue. Who's going to jail us now, and for what? You know we need to clear area for consumer goods... It's a very profitable business...

       –  Lityagin pulled an envelope from his pocket, in which he'd previously placed 300 dollars, and handed it to his deputy. – Here... Our client won't remain indebted...

       The deputy shrugged, chuckled, but accepted the envelope.


______________________________
* Russian slang –  American dollars

       When the last loaded truck disappeared behind the gates of the enterprise,and Vyacheslav Ivanovich finally received the second briefcase with bucks, the general director’s joy knew no bounds.

       He got so drunk on this occasion that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember how he ended up in the morning not at home but in some  luxury hotel room on the luxurious, dirty and vomit-stained bed. 

       When he regained consciousness, he was lying flat on his stomach unable to move. He tried to get up, but couldn't. He tried to reach the telephone on the nightstand, but couldn't. He couldn't even pull up his pants over his own butt! All nature allowed him in those final moments was to gaze out the doorway at the luxurious living room.

       He didn't feel time, falling into oblivion and regaining his memory, but in those rare moments of consciousness he couldn't even turn to the wall clock to understand how long he had been lying motionless.

       Lityagin's molten brain still lived, aware that he'd suffered a stroke, that someone was flipping the general director`s helpless body onto its back, carrying it to the stretcher, and dragging, dragging him somewhere; while he himself — until now wealthy and well-placed man — can't even do the most basic things, can't speak, can't ask for drink, can't even tell his relatives the code to the locker in the railway station luggage storage room, where he'd kept the wad`s of money — main  result of his entire life.

       And that was the last thing he wanted.




      
                II

       Another time he woke up in his own office apartment on the white leather sofa, next to the marble-trimmed, peacefully gurgling fountain so dear to his heart. Rays of sunlight filtered through the glass ceiling, playing in the foliage of plants in the home garden, having been cultivated by his secretary Vera Nikitichna. He felt himself  light and carefree, as a newborn might feel. At the same time he was incredibly glad to be free of the nightmare that had haunted him, that everything had ended so wonderfully; that he hadn't suffered a stroke, and that he was perfectly healthy and cheerful, and could not only move, but also stand up and walk around the room. With this thought he rose from the sofa and put his feet on the carpet. Herewith he discovered that he was without blazer on the shoulders and trousers on the legs; he had not even socks, singlet and underpants — he was completely naked! 

       He approached to the built-in wardrobe where he kept couple of fresh suits, few shirts and ties just in case. Everything was in place, he was even pleased to find five hundred bucks he'd once hidden from wife in the pocket of one of the jackets.

       Having calmed down, he went to the bathroom to take a shower and that moment caught own sight in the mirror. His appearance surprised him so hard that he even whistled: he had lost weight beyond recognition and looked at least thirty years younger as if he had been a student studying chemistry, but not fat and  respectable director of the chemical company at his fifty-six!  His torso had acquired normal male contours, some muscles had appeared in his arms and legs, his face had lengthened, his bald spot disappeared, and - most importantly - what had  been hidden for a long time under his incredibly fat belly was once again visible to eye, and this circumstance even aroused in him certain pride!

       He showered with pleasure, shaved, doused himself with perfume, and began to dress. However, the contents of his wardrobe were less than pleasing: firstly, there was no underwear; secondly, his jackets shirts and trousers hung on him like they were on scarecrow. Furthermore, there were no socks or shoes.

       Having somehow girded his trousers with one of his ties, tied the other under wide collar of his shirt, in which two of his necks could now be accommodated, and thrown an enormous double-breasted jacket over his shoulders, he finally crossed the threshold of his own study.

       Out of habit, he pressed a button on his selector and asked cheerfully:

       – Vera, bring me some coffee.

       He had a rather busy day ahead of him; he needed to figure out how to transfer money abroad, and for this purpose he intended to pay a visit to his friend, the Chief manager of the “Commercial Credit Bank”, but before that he should send Vera or the driver to buy a new suit and shoes.

       He wanted to meet Vera Nikitichna sitting at his desk, so it wouldn't be obvious he was barefoot, but the secretary hadn't appear for a long time. "Stupid! – he thought – "For two thousand rubles a month, she could have been more efficient!"

       – Vera, I asked for coffee! – he demanded –  pressing the selector button again.

       There was still no response.

       Extremely irritated, he measured the carpeted floor of his study with his bare feet and opened the door that led to the reception area. However, there was no sign of the reception area or Vera Nikitichna herself.

       A sudden flood of light burst through the open door. The bright light was so intense and blinding, that it made the general director recoil into the room. Meanwhile, curiosity got the better of him, and he finally stepped through the threshold of his own study.

       The expanse that met his gaze was marvelous: below, at the foot of the hill on which he found himself, a wide river flowed into the distance under cloudless blue sky, generous with shallows and pools. The opposite bank was wooded, and many endless green meadows laid beyond this forest were crowned by the ridge of distant mountains which snow-capped peaks emitted pink light. Air was easy and fresh, filled with scent of grasses and wildflowers.

       The general director's head was spinning from impressions. Staggering, he walked a few tens of meters and sat down on the grass. He looked back: in the middle of the hill, in all the splendor of harmony and freedom around, stood the cold gray concrete skeleton, seemingly carved from the third floor of the building, enclosing his study and personal quarters. Having walked around this construction, he confirmed that all the shuttered windows, summer garden’s glass roof and two entrances —from the reception area and corridor — are correspond exactly to the layout of  Component firm's office; however, the ten-story building itself (that is office and storage spaces, the fur shop and furniture salon, private restaurant — in short, everything that could bring income) had vanished without trace!

       Then he thought he'd drunk as a skunk, or is dreaming the whole time. However, trying to wake himself up by pinching, rubbing his temples, and shaking his head was useless—everything was real: the grass, the wildflowers, and this concrete skeleton with its windows. He hadn't expected such a turn of events. Most importantly, he couldn't even imagine what he would do here, all alone amid this riot of nature, under bright rays of the morning sun. The first thing that came to his  mind was to go for a walk. He walked down the slope to the river, his unusually light bare feet felt only warmth of the earth and experienced no discomfort. The  water in the small but deep pool was so clear that he could see fish, diving beetles, and other river creatures swimming. White lilies were visible everywhere on the water's surface, with tiny water striders darted among them. It was quiet all around, the silence had been broken only by measured lapping of the waves and numerous bees pollinating the wildflowers.

       He moved along the river stepping on  grass, going around the waterside  bushes, annoyed that nowhere nearby there were visible not only a road that could lead to any settlement, but not even a small path that would indicate that someone had already walked here before him.

       Having walked about a kilometer, he encountered no one, save for a wild deer suddenly leaped out of the opposite bank`s thicket. Our general director  regretted that did not have a gun. The deer stared at him   perplexedly for a moment, then drank some water and disappeared back into the forest.

       So far as the world did not show him no traces of civilization, he decided to return to his office. And suddenly he clearly heard someone say: "Live. Think. Love."

       He stopped from surprise and began listening, but heard nothing except  chirping of birds and buzzing of bumblebees. Taking off his jacket, he spread it on the grass and lay down on back, with hands behind his head. He thought of any girl, so she could be here with him and they could have some fun together alone with nature, and then she would cook dinner, and they would have a drink and then eat some roast venison or fish... He dozed off with this thought. When he woke  up, the sun was starting to beat down, and it was time to return to the office. He took the jacket, walked a few steps and again clearly heard: "Live. Think. Love." From that moment it begun to seem to him as if someone — ever since the morning, as soon as he'd woken up on his white sofa — someone was constantly watching his every thought and every step. The sensation, of course, wasn't pleasant, especially when secret desires or natural needs became well known to anyone else.

       When he returned to the hideout, his mood somewhat improved: he found lunch laid out on the conference table! The food was quite acceptable, but strictly vegetarian — salad, borscht, potato cutlets with sour cream. There was also a tube, the contents of which he squeezed onto a piece of black bread and ate it with appetite, washing it down with a cup of black coffee. Certainly not the restaurant-style delicacy, but what was served was very hearty and nutritious with the distinct taste of fresh, natural products.

       Deep down, he hoped that everything would work out by itself, and he would return to his normal lifestyle fulfill his long-held dream of buying a house with land on the distant seashore, investing in something worthwhile (he himself didn't know what) and living happily with his wife in his declining years for the benefit of his daughters and grandchildren. He should now have enough energy for this with his renewed physical fitness.

       He again felt like someone was following his thoughts very closely, and in order to unwind and find something to entertain with, he turned on the TV set.

       The news was informing: "The rubble clearing at the site of apartment building explosion on Pesochnaya Street is nearing completion. As of this hour, rescuers have recovered eighty bodies from the rubble. Two seriously wounded were taken to the hospital. As a reminder, the explosion occurred yesterday at 5:00 a.m. when everyone was still sleeping, so there was a little hope of finding someone alive. Experts estimate the explosion's power to be not less than 500 kilograms of TNT equivalent. The Security Service has opened a criminal case on the fact of explosion. It has already been established that terrorists used a substance several times more powerful than TNT for their criminal plan".

       They showed rescuers digging mutilated bodies out of piles of bricks and rebar, placing them right there on the ground, and then transporting them to the morgue in special vehicles.

       He listened eagerly every word, trying not to miss a single detail of this terrible report. "Oh, my God! What if they used that A-mixture I sold Mansur the other day?! — the general director thought — I need to get out of here immediately, otherwise there might be troubles!"

       He rushed to the phone to call his friend, bank manager, when he suddenly remembered with satisfaction that he was probably so far away from the events being covered by television, that no prosecutor's office will be able to reach him here.

       And then an unfamiliar, high-pitched voice reached him.

       — Calm down, Vyacheslav Ivanovich. Why are you fussing so much?

       In the armchair he had just left as if nothing had happened sat a brunette dressed in all tight gray and looked at him with her spring-clear blue eyes.

       — Why are you became such bothered? —  she asked.

       — But who are you, actually? Did I invite you? —  Lityagin asked in his usual tone of an enlightened bureaucrat.

       — You? Me? Invited? — she said cheerfully, — I think you're misunderstanding.

       The general director, contrary to his usual manner, took a back seat. Sensing the reality of what was happening, but unable to explain it, he almost pleaded:

       — Listen, tell me what's going on! Where's the company? Where are  people? Where have you dragged me?
 
       — We don't quite understand it yet. At least one thing is certain: that you had dead, Vyacheslav Ivanovich, — she said matter-of-factly as if she talks about illness.

       — What?! I had died? You are crazy!

       — You had died. Yes. What's so surprising about that? People are born and die, right?

       — And when did that happen?

       — Let us see now, — she pulled out something from her boot that looked like folding calculator or electronic notebook and seems began to calculate.
 
       Then she rose from her chair and headed toward the TV set. The general director almost fell over, dazzled by the sight of her graceful body, clad in the soft fabric of her light-colored jumpsuit.

       — You'd died on the eleventh of August, nineteen ninety-nine, on Wednesday, —  she said, — Look, please!

       A funeral appeared on the TV screen. The image was incredibly clear. The rustling of wreaths could be heard. People were moving, whispering, coughing, and bringing flowers to the luxurious coffin. He recognized himself in the corpse! Despite the diligent makeup, he looked unwell — with skewed face and some kind of hole on the back of his head mended — a mark from the autopsy. His wife and daughters in mourning were also there, accepting condolences. The deputy for economic affairs was posting an honor guard.

       — Oh no! — Vyacheslav Ivanovich whined in wistfulness, — It can't be!

       — You still doubt it? — the brunette asked — Then let's see what happened two weeks ago.

       The screen showed a hotel suite, where he was laying in his underwear on the   vomit-stained bed. A housemaid called ambulance. Paralyzed, he was placed on the stretcher and taken to the hospital... The reality of the image was shocking; it seemed only a slight effort was needed to take part in the events happening in the screen.

       The general director had started up suddenly:
 
       — Listen! Who are you? Why are you keeping me here? You've taken me hostage, haven't you? Let me out of here immediately, or I will complain!

       — To whom are you going to complain?
 
       — I will complain to the authorities! — Lityagin, clenching his fists, moved  toward the brunette, feeling  powerful impulse  to take possession of this woman by force.

       — Sorry, Vyacheslav Ivanovich, but you have a weak understanding of  the  power concept ...  besides, no one holds you back, you've even went for a walk, —  she kept her calmly, looking him in the eyes without a hint of fear or awkwardness. — How did you like the walk? Did you like breakfast?

       Lityagin, feeling unable to explain his situation or even touch the brunette,  sank helplessly on the office sofa and clasped his head in his hands.

       — Do not try, Vyacheslav Ivanovich, you won't succeed anyway, — she said, as if reading his thoughts. —  You must fall in love, or at least we must feel sympathy for each other to make that. But you want to twist my arms and rape me, but it won't work! Tell me, are you always overcome by base instincts, even during periods of severe mental upheaval, yes?

       — Leave me alone. Why do you know all this? —  Lityagin squeezed out, he suddenly fell into apathy.

       — Okay then. You may sit here and calm down, and I'll tell you something you don't know yet, — said the brunette sitting down on the opposite end of the sofa. — First, let me introduce myself. My name is Heyvana. I represent the Center of New Phenomena, and I will work with you for at least the entire rehabilitation period. The fact is that nine hundred thousand years have passed since you have   died and, of course, the world has become completely different. Not at all what you and your contemporaries could imagine it to be.  In fact, it is now people can have knowledge about their past lives, but your generations and generations that lived before and several thousand years after the birth of Christ, had no idea about this. That was their tragedy in fact: they could not break free, so to speak, from the captivity of their worldviews accumulated over the insignificant span of the human visual lifespan — just sixty-seventy years. Because of this, all societies that existed at that time were extremely imperfect people were subject crises, wars and lived by their own far-fetched and often erroneous rules.

       To understand how imperfect the human mind was, it is enough to remember  one very simple example: the majority of people then did not even accept those simple truths that were told to them by messengers of the Higher Mind such as Christ, Mohammed, Buddha... People believed them too externally or too fanatically, but they did not perceive the essence of the eternal prophecies; they continued to replace true values with imaginary ones, noble goals with selfish ones; they continued to fight among themselves for influence in the world, to kill and rob, to envy, rape and humiliate each other.

       In the first half of the third millennium after the birth of Christ, the very thing the Savior had warned people about and the prophecies of John the Theologian had foretold occurred. It was the end of the world. Humans had practically exterminated their own civilization and depleted the Earth's resources. More than eighty-five percent of the planet's population was perished in terrorist wars, from famine and diseases.

       Remnants of Humankind were perhaps saved only by fact that scientific progress did not fall victim to terrorists and politicians who supported them.   In the first quarter of the third millennium, thanks to scientific discoveries, the true revolution in energy still occurred. Humans discovered previously unknown energy sources. Fortunately this happened just in time, because oil and gas reserves had been completely depleted by this time. Otherwise, civilization would have faced inevitable collapse. To achieve this they actively utilized new superconducting materials, this made it possible to abandon the extraction of the remaining underground energy and switch exclusively to electricity generated by hydroelectric and solar power plants.

       However, nothing was achieved without fight, nothing was resolved without problems. Oil magnates, owners of raw materials industries with gigantic monopolies actively opposed new scientific developments, enlisting politicians in their interests. Terrorists, on the contrary, wanted to seize these discoveries as quickly as possible in order to seize power and subjugate the entire world, and they succeeded: some of them went legal and became respectable rulers, imposing their inhumane rules. Armed resistance to terrorism led to the extermination of 85 percent of life on Earth by 2300 year.

       The planet had become a gigantic ruined metropolis, where it was difficult to find any living nature. Rare remaining people were demoralized, fearful of one another, communicated using computers, have been trusting no one, and rarely left their homes in enclosing cities with  climate-controlled homes and synthetic greenery. Of course, it would have been possible to travel to other civilizations, but that was expensive and unsafe.

       Excuse me, Vyacheslav Ivanovich, but I think you want to ask something?

       Lityagin listened to this whole story with a distrust of an idle man, as if none of it could possibly concern him personally. At the same time he was looking for an excuse to flirt with this charming woman, as he imagined the brunette to be. He thought he could spend a couple of weeks with her in this hole of a place. So, he asked her with the purpose of to direct the conversation in the right theme:

       — Tell me, how did people reproduce if men and women had no contact with each other?

       — Are you interested in problems of sex in the age of information depression? — she asked gladly, opening her mouth wide and as if giving everyone a charming smile.

       — Very, very much so! — the general director said with meaning, intending immediately move closer to his interlocutor, put his arm around her shoulders and press her to himself. However, for some unknown reason, he was unable to do so; he seemed rooted to his place on the sofa.

       — Good, I'll answer that question later, —  the brunette said, standing up. She crossed her arms over chest and began pacing the room, teasing Lityagin with swaying of her hips. — I'm not entirely clear on your attitude toward everything that happened with you. You find yourself in the world completely unfamiliar to you were, verity, we have tried to create the right environment for you, but you are not at all worried about the fate of any persons like you, not to mention the fate of your loved ones — daughters, wife, mother...Surprisingly! You're also not interested in the structure of society you find yourself in, nor in how your life will turn out in future. Have you ever wondered about why all this is necessary?

       — What is 'all is necessary'? —  the general director asked hot-temperedly.

       — The 'all' — are lives of five hundred generations before your birth, and three thousand generations after?

       — Well, tell me, why do I need to know that? I'm already comfortable here with you. I think it'll be even better when we get to know each other better, right?

       — By and large, you are lucky, Vyacheslav Ivanovich. Your case is the first for us. Usually, the souls of persons like you are never reborn.
 
       — What a souls? What are you babbling about!

       — Usually, the souls of those who can serve the common good — the Perfection — are reborn. They usually materialize in newborn children, whose brains absorb information from their environment from an early age. But your soul materialized at the age of twenty-six as a result of the artificial cultivation of the  fertilized egg.  So we have to find out whether your case is a relapse, or whether this is the beginning of new tests that the Creator is sending us.

       The general director was devastated. Being treated like a test subject was insulting for him. However, unable to find anything to say about it, he decided to voice his everyday problems.

       — Whatever you want, — he said after pause, — but you have to create normal living conditions for me.

       —  What do you mean?

       —  For example, my suit, which is so big it's impossible to wear!

       —  Oh, right! But we've already corrected that oversight. In your wardrobe, you can now find a couple of suits in your size, shirts, shoes, underwear —basically, everything you need... I see you are tired, Vyacheslav Ivanovich. Get some rest, please. Let us continue tomorrow. While you can watching TV, we have selected something especially for you.

       She disappeared right before his eyes from the very place where she had stopped — from the middle of the room; and Lityagin was finally able to rise from the sofa.


                III

        Vyacheslav Ivanovich went into the recreation room, where he indeed found new clothes in the wardrobe. Having dressed on his tracksuit, he set down on the sofa, picked up the remote control for his "home cinema theater"— a relatively recent acquisition for watching "cool erotica" in his spare time — and turned on the TV.

       The video, what he saw, bring him into state of near-shock, the kind a government official might experience when it's revealed he had been bribed with marked banknotes. Our general director was glued to the screen, where the action have been unfolded so realistically, as if he were the real participant; but as much as he wanted to do that, he couldn't intervene.

       A well-dressed civil servant enters office familiar from television reports, the walls of which are lined with light silk, and  red coat  of arms is show off at the very top. Despite his civilian clothes, he has the bearing of military man; his pleasant, freshly shaven face expresses readiness to do immediately whatever the master of these high walls says — the man who is also familiar on television. The boss, sitting right there at his spacious desk, filled with numerous office supplies, is carefully studying some papers.

       — You called me, Sergei Borisovich?

       — Yes. Sit down, please, Nikolai Petrovich. Just let's agree: what I will tell you must be done for the sake of preserving the integrity of Russia, but not by our own hands. Understood?

       — It's clear…
 
       — And, God forbid, so that anything is documented somewhere, even if it's just memos or... some kind of administrative orders... Our people shouldn't know what they are doing. Understand?

       — Okay, Sergei Borisovich. I understand. I'm listening.

       — This has to be a pure provocation. Our ears should not stick out here... We need to make sure that Chechens arrange two or three explosions in Moscow. Preferably in crowded places, so there are more casualties... Widespread publicity... An investigation by our own forces – everything as it should be. The bandits should be in prison, they must all be destroyed, expelled from the country. Money... you will receive it, but only if you need it. I will give orders. But, only verbally. No receipts. You understand?

       — Y-yes-s, colonel-general.

       — And one more thing else. Try not to discuss these matters over telephone, and don't talk with me about them in public. Understood? In person is better. I'll always be in contact with you, everyday and always.
 
       —  It's clear.
 
       —  Report me every morning. By ten o'clock.

       — I understood. May I go, colonel-general?
 
       — Good. You may go.

       The next episode was about the official with pleasant face enters other,  more modest office, which walls paneled in light wood, and famous photo is hanging above. He sits down at his desk and thinks deeply. He vigorously rubs his face and forehead with his palms, drums his fingers on the table, picks up the handset, holds it to his cheek for a long time. Then he dials a number and says:

       — Petya, come see me.

       A dashing, brawny guy in civilian clothes, with crew cut, enters.

       — You asked me to come in, Nikolai Petrovich?

       — Yes. Please sit down. You are work with Mansur’s case? How it’s  going?

       — Fine. I was just about to report about it at the planning meeting on Friday. We'll catch him red-handed soon.

       —  And who ordered it? Were you able to pinpoint it?

       — Dosayev, who else? We have two more phone interception confirm this.

       —  Really!?

       — Yes. He's meeting with this... Igor Vasilyevich Tolkushin next week, on Tuesday...

       —  Who is he?

       — This is the so-called deputy director of the 'Component' enterprise — his official title. They plan to use 'A-mixture' for subversive purposes. This new substance is many times more destructive than TNT. Tons of this mixture have accumulated at the  'Component'. I is a result of the production conversion. We don't yet understand how they contacted Tolkushin, but Mansur's meeting with him will probably be interesting.

       — Good, Petya. Give me all the case materials, and go to St. Petersburg to investigate Konstantinovsky's murder. Trigorov will go with you. Don't leave until you get results. I'll take Mansur's case myself.

       Disappointment is reflect on the young man's face.

       — Nikolai Petrovich... maybe...

       — Nothing maybe. Go today. That's all.

       —  May I go?

       —  Yes. Bring me the materials of the Mansur's case

       Then a wondrous garden appeared on the screen, on the shore of  blue pool. Some villa resembling a big palace is in the distance. Two men — one tall, bearded gentleman in white turban, dressed in loose white robes; the other, also long unshaven guy, in jacket and papakha despite the obvious heat, looking like a retired general — are peacefully converses  in Arabic walking along the pond  in the foreground of the screen.

       The literal translation sounds in Lityagin’s head.

       — Mr. Dosayev, — the one in white turban addresses his interlocutor, — I won't hide the fact that we do not like your passive role in the struggle to establish our Islamic Republic. We've decided to organize several acts of retaliation on Russian territory in order to destabilize this situation. Are you prepared to assist us in this noble cause?

       — Of course, Mr. Al Akhmat. We have an extensive network of agents in many populated areas of this country.

       — So, where exactly can you do this?

       — In Rostov, Stavropol, Moscow, St. Petersburg — it's quite possible to do.
 
       —  Oh, oh, oh! And you're not afraid of  Russian security services?

       — Of course, there's a risk,  but they've never been as weak in Russia  as they are now...

       Al Akhmat smiles, enters the gazebo built among  palm trees, sits down on the edge of planed bench, takes out rosary from his clothes, and begins to sort through the pearl beads with his thin fingers.

       — How many children do you have, Mr. Dosayev? —  he asks.

       — Two daughters and a son, he is already adult...

       — Wife? Father? Mother?

       — My parents are died. We live with my mother-in-law. Why are you asking this, Mr. Al Akhmat?

       — So... I pray to Allah that He does not abandon your family... I advise you: send them somewhere far away from Ichkeria. I think it's better for the infidels to perish than your relatives...

       Al-Akhmat stares at his interlocutor for a moment, searchingly, then asks:

       — How much money do you need?

       — I’ve discussed this issue with our president and field commanders, — Dosayev  says. — Two million dollars would be enough for these actions.

       Al-Akhmat twirls the pearls around his finger.

       — Money isn't the most important thing in our noble cause. I'll give you four million for success, but if not a single spark sounds, then... I pray to Allah for you! —  He extends his well-groomed hand to Dosayev, signaling that the audience is over. — You'll receive all the money tomorrow morning from my employee, Mr. Adel.

       Another episode was also inserted here. It was some  luxurious apartment. Al Ahmat says to his secretary, small, bearded man in a turban and European suit:

       — Huggie, let's go to the veranda, otherwise we might be overheard... I want to give you some task.

       They step out onto spacious veranda overlooking the green gardens on  mountainside.

       — Huggie, I've decided to give this Dosayev four million in the name of Allah. This money is for our revolution in Ichkeria. Tomorrow morning, give him that money... only by banknotes  that looks very similar to real ones...

       Lityagin nearly jumped. "Those bastards! Those crooks! —  he thought, clenching his fists in anger, — "Well, well! Did  they really slip me counterfeits!?" He even began to sweat from annoyance and tension, all the while continuing to watch Al Akhmat who gives instructions to his subordinate on the home theater screen:

       — Take him by helicopter to Grozny city... No, better yet, use our mountain helipad. Offer him, very politely... insistently, to shelter his family in one of my residences. Preferably in the "Night Star".  They'll be comfortable there. I think you'll take care of them, won't you, Huggy?

       — Yes, my lord...

       The general director went to the bar cabinet, poured himself a hundred grams of cognac, and swallowed them all, hoping it would help him cope with his disappointment.

       Meanwhile, the home theater screen continued to recount him ever more joyless episodes.

       The next scene takes place in deserted school classroom, cluttered with desks and chairs, against the backdrop of chalkboard. A bearded Chechen in camouflage is talking with two militants. One of them is Mansur, but with buzz cut hair instead of shaggy mane; the other, also short-haired, is a Caucasian — an unfamiliar person.

       — When u come to Moscow, — the bearded man instructs in Russian, — will get a job at the recycling point. First Dukhov Lane, 6. The director is Shamil... I forgot how... has access to this Igor Vasilyevich Tolkushin — he's the main guy there... Who knows, maybe his son's married to Tolkushin's daughter, or maybe his daughter's married to his son... In general, it doesn’t matter... The main thing is: from the moment you arrive in Moscow, you must do what this Tolkushin tells you, obey him... all the people —  his people, all the opportunities, all the finances —  are his.

       Two malodor bastards merely nod, looking admiringly at the bearded man, and don't even ask any questions. Mansur looks heroically confident, but without that brazen gloss he had displayed in front of Lityagin in the office.

       The next scene takes place in sauna, but not the one at the Component; this one will be even cooler. Tolkushin and Mansur are sitting in dressing room, drinking tea. In the background is luxurious blue pool, in which busty naked girls are frolicking.

       The image is so realistic that Lityagin immediately wanted to go and splash around with them.

       — Listen, Mansur, close the door, I can't hear anything, — Tolkushin says, in spite of the general director’s passions. He has languid appearance, completely different from his usual one at the work, where he always looked harried and unhappy. He's very good at pretending.

       — Listen, Mansur, close the door, I can't hear anything, — Tolkushin says, in spite of the general director’s passions. He has languid appearance, completely different from his usual one at the work, where he always looked harried and unhappy. He's very good at pretending.

       Mansur, seems, had already struck it rich — gold chain around his neck; he himself looks fresh, stroke his hairy torso.

       — You've got some nice girls here, — he says, his gaze lingering on the girls.

       — Okay, enough of that! Let's get down to business. Later... Is that what you came for?

       — We came and for that too, Igor Vasilyevich.

       — Tell me more about your meeting with Lityagin. How many counterfeit bills did you alloyed him?

       — A hundred and fifty thousand. Then another hundred and fifty.

       — He didn't suspect anything?

       — I don't think so. He was so happy that he wanted to ruffle  right there... He also wanted to consult with you for some reason...

       — What a jerk!

       The general director sat in front of the screen, frozen by the mockery and insults, annoyed by how his own deputy had fooled him. Suddenly, he remembered that he'd given Tolkushin three hundred bucks out of his generosity, and this fact left him completely ill: how could he, an experienced leader of the Party-Soviet training, have screwed up so badly? He felt sorry for the new TV receiver; otherwise, he would have kicked it!

       — Oh, if you get involved with counterfeiters, you'll end up with a bang!
—  Tolkushin continues, throwing his hands behind his head. — We need to get rid of the rest quickly, otherwise bad things will be...

       — Sorry, Igor Vasilyevich, I didn't know anything about that...

       — Yeah! What would you do without me, you children of mountains...

       Only now did it dawn on Lityagin that while he was carousing in the restaurant, celebrating his new honorarium, those scumbags had been discussing ways to get rid of the counterfeit money!

       — Listen, Mansur, — Tolkushin continues, yawning, — what the hell do you need these chemicals for? You know... the stuff they shipped to you at Lityagin's initiative?
 
       — What are you asking me? I'm middleman... The customer needs it, we'll get it... They say it's some kind of fertilizer...

       — Well, yeah, yeah, — Tolkushin says slyly.

       Lityagin couldn't listen any longer. He suddenly lost interest even in the girls who had flooded into the dressing room, courting the accomplices. Resentment consumed him. "What kind of black ingratitude can person repay for all the good done for him! — the general director thought — Wasn't it he, the district committee secretary, Comrade Lityagin, who supported Comrade Tolkushin's candidacy for deputy chairman of the district council?! Wasn't it he who later agreed to shelter him at his enterprise?! Indeed, if it weren't for him, that scumbag  would now vegetating in some flea market, barely making ends meet!"  Plan for the revenge began to form in his head. First, he needed to try by hook or by crook to escape this captivity. Second, if that was simply impossible — if everything his girlfriend in the light jumpsuit had told him was true — then he needed to gain her trust and explain how he could return to the past and hand over all those bastards to the international court! "But, how can he win her trust if she's paralyzing him, not letting him get close?" — Vyacheslav Ivanovich kept thinking, but he couldn't come up with something that evening.





                IV

       Having dematerialized in Lityagin's office, Eivana went to the Valley of Geysers, where her little daughter Andina was growing up.

       The meeting with her prot;g; left a painful impression on Einy, and she was already beginning to regret that she had become interested in this issue at the Center of New Phenomena. Although she had many competent advisers there, each of them could well have undertaken this research, —  once she had started, it was a shame to quit. Therefore, rising above the green Foothills, she, with long-unexperienced feeling of contempt that was alien to the inhabitants of Civilization, looked at the gloomy stone apartments of the general director, erected among the riot of nature to create the “necessary habitat”, and thought that, perhaps, tomorrow Lityagin’s brain would absorb some of the information about the past and the present, and it would be easier for her to communicate with this man. He must understand with her help that the ancient time from which his fate brought him was time of Humanity's mistakes and delusions, against which Creator warned, and that Civilization was saved only by the eternal striving to perfection inherent in people, often used by the politicians of that time - and even by simple criminals - for dishonest purposes; after all, from politician to criminal in those days was only one step... “Lityagin must surely adapt to the new conditions, —  she thought, — after all, his twenty-five-year-old brain is still young enough to absorb the necessary information and join in the progress.”

       Meanwhile, the upcoming meeting with Andina returned her to the usual calm and kind state of mind, which almost always remained with her, and especially when contacting with children. Little Andi was only five years old, Eivana's seventh child — she was the mother of four of them, the father —  of three. The other six were already adults, independent persons with their own children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren, who had long ago established their pedigrees, and only Andi was still small, but clever.

       In these days, when she was already over two hundred years old, Eivana often thought that perhaps she had enough children in her lifetime, and that it was time to devote herself entirely to the Creator, enter deep meditation, give Him her accumulated experience, so that in a century or two she could return renewed, in the childhood, rejoice in her descendants, and once again serve Civilization. But — as reasonable (like a man) these desires were — as the mother, she could not yet leave her girl in the care of Society. She wanted to see her daughter grow up again soon, to be assured that another person born from her would be a worthy continuation of the life on Earth!

       Eivana was born a man—intelligent, dexterous, courageous, noble, and capable of taking risks; however, the desire to have children often forced him to transform into woman, to feel better the tenderness, kindness and caress without which continuation of life seemed impossible. As an experienced researcher,  specialist in the field of contradictions and new phenomena, and a planetary personality, she understood well that it had been  very little accomplished on the path to the Perfection of Civilization, and the difference between the masculine and feminine principles implies that they only complement each other, is merely further confirmation of this. She understood well that the path to Perfection is endless, and it will not end even when not only these but also other contradictions — between the main and the secondary, the personal and the social, the moral and the immoral — will completely overcome. Then the world must enter a new era. What will the relationships between people be like then? Would the world then be independent of the ancient law of eternal struggle and eternal unity of opposites? Eivana couldn't find answers to these questions now. Therefore, she really wanted, in a few centuries — or perhaps much later — to witness firsthand the progress of Humanity, including the achievements of her children, and to contribute her intellect as best she could to the movement of Civilization.

       The Valley of Geysers, where Einy was heading, had been so named long time ago, since  series of destructive earthquakes struck on the territory of former  Australia three hundred thousand years ago, razing to the ground all settlements. The inhabitants had prudently dematerialized, but the landscape had changed dramatically, and they had no desire to return anytime soon. Of course, if this had happened five thousand years later, the inhabitants would have been able to dematerialize their own property and then restore it again, but power of the human mind was not yet enough for this. Some time after the earthquake, the area was transformed and became even more beautiful: it was crisscrossed with garlands of crystal-clear lakes, numerous natural springs of water arose, especially among the upheaval rocks; deserts turned into green meadows; forests, replenished with moisture, revived; the land blossomed, delighting eye with its renewed flora and fauna. And then the Council of Society decided to give this area to the children, naming it the Valley of Geysers. Residential buildings, schools, sports fields, art and music centers were built here. Everything was done to ensure a well-rounded education: the vast territory, allowed for better educate children the human history,  create virtual worlds of the past; students were taken here on excursions in established zoos and water parks, where they could study nature; and even future could be modeled based on the inexhaustible  imagination of young creators. The special Council of Mentors was existed there for better organize the educational process.  Parents of all generations were always present, and even those who was in deep meditation had returned there as children to enrich descendants with the experience of the past and, having absorbed new information, serve once again to Humanity with their intellect.

       Over time, Valley of Geysers became unique large home for the entire Society, while other lands and oceans were carefully preserved for spiritual, scientific, and cultural purposes. Of course, it didn't mean that the children's lives were limited to the Valley. As children, they were invited to take excursions in flying machines to the Society Centers. When they reached adulthood at fifteen or sixteen and were able to dematerialize independently, they were given the full opportunity to work according their interests without territorial restrictions.

       Andina lived with her mother and grandfather, Nikk, in the two-story cottage nestled in the forest, on the shore of small but deep lake here, in the Valley of Geysers. This place had been the favorite haunt of her ancestors for over two thousand years. Eivana's father, Nikk, had emerged from deep meditation thirty years earlier — this time he decided to devote himself to composing music — and was tirelessly practicing a flute in his room, engaging his granddaughter to this amusing pursuit. Eivana was delighted by this, believing her grandfather would be a better educator for Andi than any experienced teachers. She especially loved it when Nikk appeared in a feminine, maternal guise—she thought it suited him better. Then they would chat all night long about all sorts of things, and she herself felt like a five-year-old girl, just like her daughter, who was then doubly happy to see her grandmother.

       At sixteen o'clock, Eivana appeared in her daughter's room.

       — Hello, little one! How are you?

       — Hello, Mommy! — the girl exclaimed, running up to her and hugging her knees. — Wonderful that you showed up! I was doing my homework and  have a whole bunch of questions.

       — Really? So, what subjects did you study at school today?

       — Biology, physics, history, magnetics, in addition Grandpa and I did some meditation today.

       — Oh, really! So, how's it going?

       — Fine... Does Grandpa have a mom too?

       — Of course he does!

       Andina was apparently overwhelmed with questions, which she immediately voiced.

       — How did he know that... well, that he's my grandfather and your dad? Do you know his mother? When will you introduce me to his mother?

       Eivana sat down on the chair, sat Andy on her knees, and began to explain.

       — You see, Grandpa Nikk never left our side, even when he was in deep meditation. So when he was born again and reached fifteen years of age, he began to realize for certain that this house was his home, that I am his daughter, and you are his granddaughter.

       — And me? Me too, when I'll reach fifteen, I will also find out whose grandmother I am?

       — Of course! Of course you will, Andy!

       — How interesting! And how will I know?

       — Very simple. It all depends on you. When you're able to dematerialize for the first time, you'll simply go to this house yourself and meet your descendants there. They'll be happy to welcome you. This will undoubtedly be the home of our close relatives.

       — Mom, tell me are all people related to each other?

       — Certainly, Andy, all people are related to each other, but there are  close homes and distant homes...

       Andy put her arm around her neck and, pressing her cheek to hers, asked in an intimate tone:

       — Mom, tell me about my dad. Why isn't he with us? Do you love him?

       — I love him very much. Your father, Dan, soon after your birthday, decided to enter into the deep meditation to go to Creator and impart him the experience he had accumulated. But you're wrong about him that is not being with us. He is always with us; I often meet him during meditation. And you will meet him too, when you'll achieve perfection in this by the age of fifteen.
 
       —  And when will he come out from the deep meditation?

       —  As soon as he deems it possible.

       —  Ah! I wish it would come sooner!

       Eivana gently pushed the little girl away, rose from the armchair, walked up to the large mirror hanging on the wall, and, posing in it, correct her hair. Suddenly, her slight, flawless figure, clad in overalls, underwent a significant transformation: it lengthened a little, became broader in the shoulders, her breasts disappeared, her legs grew stronger, and her face became more male features, although it retained the individual ones. In a matter of minutes, Einy transformed into the young man, and she asked her daughter in masculine baritone:
 
       — And now, how am I not your dad?

       Andy's mouth dropped open in surprise, her gray eyes began sparkling in her sharp little face.
 
       — Wow! — she said admiringly. — How can you do that? Are you really... real?

       — Real, real. You can even touch me, — the man said, walking up to Andy and taking her hands.

       Little girl began to feel his arms, neck and chin with her palms.

       — Prickly, like Grandpa's...

       Then, as if she remembered something, she asked:

       — Oh, what am I going to call you now?
 
       — Precisely: I'm Eivan. However, you can still call me Einy.

       — And why didn't you show me this ability before?

       — You never asked me these questions before, my girl...

       — And will I be able to do it like you?

       — Of course you can, Andy, when you’ll grow up.

       Eivan set his daughter on her feet and walked over to the table with large computer map laid out on it.

       — What did you study in history today, Andy?

       — The history of the world before the Second Coming of Christ.

       — Do you understand everything?

       — Not quite. Look here, — Andy typed a few keys on the keyboard. Immediately, a live image appeared on the computer map that took up the entire table. It was a large clothing market, crowds of people was swarming through shopping  rows hung with variety of goods — from coats and fur coats to jewelry — food sellers were loudly calling and shouting, and customers were reaching into their wallets and paying.

       — What are they handing to each other? What are these pieces of paper?

       — The pieces of paper are money, Andy.

       — Oh! What is it money?

       — Didn't anyone explain it to you?

       — Not yet. I just decided to look up some of the material we haven't covered yet, out of curiosity.

       Eivan was once again happy for his daughter: she was growing up smart beyond her years; usually, at five years old, children are not yet fully computer literacy and cannot yet independently create “live images.”

       — You see, Andy, the era you modeled was era of the consumer society. In order to live, eat, dress, build their own houses... and so on, people needed a certain amount of this very money. So, you see: in exchange for money, they receive the goods they needs.

       — And how can they exchange something, like clothes, for a small piece of paper? Look, they're trying tracksuits on...
 
       — You see, there was a limited supply of these papers; they were issued only as many as were backed by state values, called the state's gold reserve. To earn a living, people were forced to sell their labor. In exchange, they received a certain number of money, equivalent to a certain amount of gold. Some people received more of these pieces of paper and grew richer, while others received fewer and became poorer. This led to social conflicts, the poor rebelled against the rich; wars was broking out because wars brought even greater profits to the rich persons. In particular, in the year 1917 from the Nativity of Christ, the poor seized power and decided to divide all the wealth of one of the countries equally among themselves, but nothing came of it, just as it did not work out every other time, since the new rulers who seized power from among the poor, while engaged in distribution of property, was starting to enrich themselves. People stubbornly were looking for riches on the Earth, despite Christ's teachings. People stubbornly were exchanging their true treasure — love — for money. This continued until Humanity nearly destroyed itself. Do you understand , little one?

       — It’s understand, Einy. What happened next?

       — And then it had happened, as described in the Apocalypse.

       — Where does it described? — Andy narrowed her eyes, as she always did when she didn't understand something or was dissatisfied with something.

       — It happened on the island of Patmos where the Creator appeared to Saint John and conveyed message to humanity — the Apocalypse, that is Revelation — in which He figuratively described what awaits those who have violated Christ's commandments. This message states that "one hundred and forty-four thousand" who are "blameless before the throne of God" will be saved from the ignorance and sins of past civilization. It also says: "And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for the foretime have passed away.

       — Einy, what is death?

       — It's a state in which person was using to cease to exist, therefore people were using to be so afraid of death. No one knew when it would come, and yet everyone hoped it would pass him by. Thus, by deceiving and killing each other, Humanity approached its deadly trait. Fourteen point four percent of Earth's civilization remained — demoralized citizens horrified by what their ancestors had done. Then Creator came to their aid again and established the new world order for humanity, one in which He would "live among them." He decided to help the Humanity and eliminated most odious contradictions that had hindered their lives. He abolished all measures except moral ones, including money — that very same pieces of paper I told you about. He preserved all scientific and technological achievements of the previous Civilization. He gave men the opportunity to be women and women the opportunity to be men at their own will. He extended human’s life to infinity, replacing death with deep meditation. He made it possible for people to dissolve into nature, receiving ample energy from light and sun, without damaging to nature with their greed. Finally, he made the feeling of love for brethren and for everything around them the dominant one in their lives... This is the world you and I are live now. Okay, Andy, I think it's time we had some fun. What's our grandfather doing?

       — He's playing music upstairs.

       — Let's go invite him out for a walk? Shall we?

       — Can I take my computer with me?

       — For what?

       — I want to show you the fireworks.

       — Well, go ahead and try...




                V


       They staged on the lake veritable celebration in style of royal celebrations of the eighteenth century from the Nativity of Christ, with miracles of the twentieth century.

       Andy showed the pre-modeled program.

       Great golden palace suddenly rose above the still lake in the sudden twilight. Its brightly lit windows were instantly reflected in the water, along with thousands of multicolored lights that flared in lush greenery of the surrounding park. Golden statues of naked figures appeared on the rocks of left bank, their arms outstretched toward artificial waterfall that cascaded sparkling stream into the deep gorge.

       They walked along wide avenue among marble statues to the broad pier and boarded the spacious white raft, decorated with golden garlands and glowing candelabra. It easily cast off from the shore and headed toward center of the lake.

       — The show begins! —  Andy exclaimed.

       Ahead, in front of the palace's facade, fountains appeared, their powerful jets shimmering with all colors of rainbow rushed upwards towards the sky. At the foot of this palace multitude of beautifully and diversely dressed persons appeared, among them were ladies and gentlemen in costumes of all times, kings and queens in royal mantles with ribbons thrown over their shoulders, sultans in turbans strewn with diamonds, presidents in formal jackets, actresses in evening dresses, pages in white wigs, Japanese women in kimonos, dark-skinned leaders in white robes, astronauts in pearl spacesuits, Papuans with spears, and even knights in iron armor. Jesters in checkered tights darted among this glittering, colorful crowd, beating tambourines with all their might. The entire crowd enthusiastically greeted the three persons standed on the white raft — cute little girl and two athletically built men.

       — Nikk! I've included your music to the program! — Andy cried delightedly. — Can I?

       — Why play the recording? I will play it myself! — the thirty-year-old man smiled broadly. He pulled flute out of his boot and began playing main theme from his new sonata.

       Andy typed few commands in her notebook computer, and all entire space above the lake was filled with Nikk's music. Gradually, tempo increased, and as they approached the palace embankment, where brilliant adagio transitioned into the solemn polonaise, to the sounds of which they landed.

       The crowd greeted them enthusiastically at the foot of Golden Palace. One by one, everyone who was present at the celebration rushed to pay their respects. Ladies in hoop-skirts curtsied and smiled coquettishly, queens extended their hands graciously to little Andy  and her friends to kiss, kings, in turn, tried to peck the little princess on cheek, presidents vigorously shook Evan's and Nikk's hands, and jesters made breathtaking antics that made everyone fall over laughing.
 
       — Why did you include jesters to the performance? — Evan asked his daughter. — They don't fit in with such distinguished audience.

       — On the contrary, —  Andy countered, — let them entertain everyone!

       Surrounded by glittering crowd, they entered the palace and climbed the wide marble staircase, decorated with gold and stucco, to the second floor.

       Very wide doors into the vast ballroom opened before the guests. Decorated with mirrors and sculptures, it’s walls seemed so high they stretched into infinity, and polished parquet floor was looking boundless. Hussars in red suits and scarlet-tipped shakos were lined up around perimeter of the hall.

       The ball bursted. Participants entered the hall in pairs to the sounds of polonaise.  Andy, Evan, and Nikk settled into comfortable chairs on the special platform prepared for them, under the gold-embroidered canopy. The brilliant audience began to waltz. Ladies were twirling past, hems of their luxurious clothes almost touching the platform, queens danced with pages, and ladies-in-wait — with kings. Presidents carried on their hands actresses in low-cut evening dresses, and sultans carried concubines in diamond-studded limpid bloomers.

       — Don't you think, Andy, that we should have dressed appropriately? —  Nikk asked, watching each couple with admiring eyes.

       Andy stopped the action to hear her over roar of waltz.

       — It seems to me we should have to put on some costumes, too, — Nikk repeated, pointing to the king, standing two steps away from him in the gold frock coat and lace trousers, and his partner, lady-in-wait in pearl-studded blue gown.

       — That's right! —  the girl exclaimed. — What costume do you want?

       — It's up to you.
 
       — Einy, what costume do you want?

       — I think since you've already taken us for a walk, Nikk is right — it's up to you, — said Evan.

       — Okay. You, Nikk, will be the conductor of the orchestra in tailcoat, and you, Einy, will be the human robot. And I will be the fairy!

       She entered the main menu on her minicomputer and made the appropriate changes. And right away the outfits became incredibly fitting for all three: the black tailcoat and white shirt accentuated Nikk's noble and refined features, the silver jumpsuit —  Einy's slender figure, and Andy herself, in fluffy fairy dress, with diamond crown on her head and elegant, emerald-studded scepter in her hand, looked like a true little beauty!

       Waltz burst into life with renewed vigor. Couples flew freely once more, and happy smiles lit up the dancers' faces. Andi herself twirled around the hall  sometimes in Nikk's arms, sometimes on Eivan's shoulder, illuminating everyone with the kind light of her emerald scepter. And it seemed that there were no people in Universe more kindly disposed to one another than these three and diverse and brilliant audience gathered for the great ball that surrounded them.

       — Now there will be tricks! — Andy exclaimed when Eivan put her on the floor again.

       She waved her scepter, and circus arena appeared in the middle of  hall.
The magician, fairly young but completely bald man in red checkered vest and yellow trousers, introduced himself by the strange name of Gooper, began to demonstrate his art.

       — Ladies and gentlemen! The first number of our program will be a flight over the hall!

       With these words, he assumed horizontal position in the air. The audience gasped in delight and began applauding. To further emphasize the effect, two assistants threaded silver hoops through Hooper's hovered body. Then the magician rose above the public and, arms outstretched, flew around hall’s perimeter. The audience, heads raised, watched his flight in admiration, and when he landed, they gave him a thunderous ovation.

       Gooper bowed, picked up some actress and, pushing off from the stage, flew with her. The actress squealed in amazement and kicked her bare legs in patent leather shoes until they landed.

       The delighted audience began chanting:

       — Gooper! Gooper! Bravo! Bravo!

       A villain dressed all in black appeared on the stage, twisted Gooper's arms, bound them tightly with ropes, and laid him on the special platform moving on small wheels. From somewhere above, the circular saw with enormous teeth began descending upon the performer like an inescapable, eternal evil. Bound at the feet and hands, Gooper began to free himself from his bonds, but before he could, the saw had divided his body in two!

       Concubines screamed wildly. Ladies-in-waiting fainted from emotion. Sultans and presidents fussed around them with bottles and handkerchiefs. Everyone was terribly worried, and only the Papuans laughed at something.

       Meanwhile, two parts of Gooper were displaying unusual activity: his shaved head and hands were constantly throwing kisses to the public, while independently, his legs were bending at the knees and doing bicycle moves. To illustrate this, assistants flipped the actor's torso over so that his shoes became in front of his nose.

       — Super! Delightly! —  exclaimed some king, raising his hat in admiration to the Gooper's body parts.

       — So what, it's just a trick! Big deal! — Andy suddenly shouted. — I can do even better!

       She grabbed one of presidents standing next to her by arm and pulled him upward. Leaving His Excellency tumbling freely about ten meters above the arena, she swooped down and, in the same manner, snatched one of the hussars from the crowd. She did the same with pair of the concubines, one of the many queens, two sultans, and even with the heavy knight in iron armor. She left them all floating freely above the arena.

       All audience applauded little fairy with admiration.

       — And now everyone will be children! — Andy announced, waving her scepter.

       Instantly, enormous hall transformed into the gigantic kindergarten, where thousands of happy children began to potter and squeal with delight on the floor, among the now-oversized, too big clothes. Only Eivan and Nikk were here the grown respectable men in this crowd, trying to calm overly playful girls and boys.
 
       Delightful performance continued for several minutes, and then Andy waved her emerald scepter again, and everything fell into place. Having assumed adult appearance, all audience was beside themselves with admiration and clapped their hands vigorously, and then Gooper presented Andy large bouquet of flowers. Sitting on Evan's shoulder, she was bowing repeatedly, laughing sincerely, and pointing her scepter toward the park.

       Fireworks thundered outside palace’s windows — the highlight of Andy's virtual reality program. High powerful sheaf of flame rose from the depths of the lake and soared toward the sky like a vast, sparkling fountain, there among numerous seething jets of water. It became as bright as day. Some barely discernible bright dots appeared in the distance on the surface of water. As they approached, they transformed into fiery swans swimming in two orderly rows. The flaming birds filling the entire of lake gracefully moved toward enthusiastic public pouring out on the palace square.

       Nikka's music thundered across entire sky, and to the sound of its rising chords, flapping their torch-wings, graceful birds rose in two spirals around  fiery fountain upwards, into the bottomless cosmos, involving into their flight all the glitter of this magic  festival, and boiling lake, and embankments filled with a jubilant public, and the Golden Palace itself, along with park, waterfalls, alleys, and statues of ancient gods.

       — Y-ye-s-s! How was it? — Andy asked her companions when the landscape had returned to its usual appearance.

       — I really liked it, — Nikk responded first, clearly delighted with the premiere of his music.

       — It was all very beautiful, but not entirely believable, my baby, — Eivan smiled in turn. — Where did you get so many kings and queens at once? And presidents are from the completely different time... Concubines never appeared in public with sultans, and hussars couldn't dance with film actresses.
 
       — Why? — Andy asked, surprised. — But they were all from the same millennium?

       — Because back then, people were typically sixty or seventy years old, and a century —  hundred years — was divided into three or even four generations. History was measured in centuries, not millenniums. That is why the sovereigns of European countries, in say, of the eighteenth century couldn't attend a ball with presidents from the twentieth. Furthermore, due to national differences, varying cultural levels and long distances, European kings and queens couldn't possibly invite Papuans from New Guinea to their balls.

       — But it's a fairy tale! Everything can happen in fairy tale, — Nikk objected.

       — Yes! It's a fairy tale, a fairy tale! — Andy was delighted at her grandfather's support. — You'd better explain something else to me: why they were all so surprised by simple magic tricks? When I was writing my program, I simply introduced the magic tricks to see what is it. But I didn't think it was so simple.

       — In those ancient times, Andy, people didn't yet possess the mental powers we have today, — Eivan said. — They couldn't dissolve into expanse, couldn't fully utilize their bodies' capabilities, even more – to influence the objects around them.

       — Moreover they haven't the relevant technologies we have today, — Nikk added. — Persons like this Gupper were few and far; they were considered exceptionally outstanding, that is why they amazed everyone with their art.

       — Nickk, are they all real?

       — Who are 'they' ?

       — Well, those ball participants.

       — No, they are not real. It is materialized image.

       — So why are they happy, laughing and treating each other with sympathy?

       — But you programmed it, that's why they are laughing!

       — And next time, can I invite my friend Oil for a walk together, and we'll show him this program, only with some adjustments?

       — Certainly we can...

       With this conversation, they returned home.





                VI


       Time seemed strange to Lityagin: it seemed before he had time to watch all sorts of nasty things on TV, get a little sleep after sipping cognac from bottle, a new morning had arrived, with the same bright sun and blue sky as yesterday.

       After breakfast, prudently left right there on the movable table next to sofa, he stepped out into the fresh air. He was feeling a little dizzy from yesterday's drinking, but for some reason he had no desire to "get better", and overall it was boring. He walked around the dew-drenched grass near his shelter, gazing longingly at the surroundings. The weather was perfect: warm since early morning — about twenty degrees. True, a breeze had picked up, and somewhere in  distance, near mountain range, cumulus clouds began to form in the sky. But, it seems, that didn't stop him from going down to the river right now and taking a swim, lying on the sand, exposing his body to the sky and sun, and dreaming of something eternal and useful. However, Vyacheslav Ivanovich didn't want this; he was busy pondering ways to satisfy the insult Tolkushin had inflicted on him.

       Eivana appeared as suddenly as she had vanished the day before. This time, she emerged from some kind of aircraft, resembling a soft-lined circular disk of  about three meters in diameter, covered by glass dome. Inside the disk were two swivel chairs, upholstered in the same gray velvety material as floor. The dome somehow was lifting and hung above the disk at about height of man. Eivana herself looked even more beautiful than yesterday. Her graceful, light figure this time dressed in the light blue jumpsuit, exuded such youthful spontaneity and effortless charm that, despite his heavy thoughts, Lityagin smiled warmly.

       — Good morning! — she greeted the general director cheerfully. — How did you sleep?

       — Thank you, fine. Tell me, what is it that always makes you so happy?

       — I enjoy every new day, Vyacheslav Ivanovich. Every of them! How did you recharge yourself with information about the past yesterday? Today I want to show you the present.
 
       Despite his obvious reluctance to go anywhere, Lityagin pulled out a well-worn phrase from his vocabulary:

       — With you, I will go to the ends of the earth... —  and then stumbled, having forgotten the woman's name.

       — My name is Eivana, —  she prompted.
 
       — Well, let's go, let's go, Eivana, — the general director agreed mockingly. He quickly climbed into the flying machine and settled into the seat. Eini settled into the one next to him.

       The aircraft rose above the ground so easily and fulminantly that Vyacheslav Ivanovich couldn't utter a word or catch his breath until his entrails, which had been displaced to his lower abdomen, returned to the original position. He noted to himself that the sensation was perhaps even sharper than what he'd once experienced in the high-speed elevator of skyscraper.

       — What kind of engine is this? — he asked, had coming to his senses. — Magnetic levitation, or not?

       Eivana looked at him with sympathy: how much more information would have to be enter into the brain of this fossil creature before he could begin to perceive the existing world order normally!

       — The time of engines, Vyacheslav Ivanovich, passed almost two hundred thousand years ago, —  she said.

       — How is that? And what do you think we fly on?

       — I created this flying machine myself, with the sole purpose of making it more familiar and convenient for you.

       — Are you a sorceress?

       — Well, if you think so, then maybe.

       — To listen to you, you seem to have a ton of talents. You know this, and capable in that! —  Lityagin said enviously.

       — Envy isn't the best quality in  person, Vyacheslav Ivanovich.

       — I don't envy you. I just feel like you are fooling me.

       — I'm not deceiving you at all, Mr. Lityagin. If you'd like, I'll gather all the necessary materials for you, and you will see that about two hundred thousand years ago, the Council of Society declared the need for any kind of engines obsolete, because by that time, adults had begun to move around Earth by dematerializing in space, and, they used their imaginations to create something similar to what you and I are flying in now, for transportation children. To create this flying apparatus, I had to think through its construction in great detail this morning, then materialize it, and then approach Creator for help in movement, as it would be difficult for me alone to carry your body weight (Eivana smiled), after all, I am woman...

       — Uh-huh, — the general director drawled thoughtfully, staring blankly at his mentor. He found all this hard to believe, but nevertheless, he decided to pretend to understand this crazy brunette.

       — And who is the Creator? —  he asked in the tone of psychiatrist.

       — It is gigantic cosmic information stream, reflecting everything that has ever happened or been conceived. He has inexhaustible energy. He is our Father and Savior. However, Vyacheslav Ivanovich, it will be easier for you to understand at first if you imagine Him as a comprehensive natural computer, to which every inhabitant of the Earth, ever born, is invisibly connected. In fact, you've already had the opportunity to verify not only your death, but also certain actions taken by persons known and unknown to you, who, so to speak, have already left their mark in the magnetic space... To make it easier for you to observe, I've transferred several interesting stories to your familiar television screen... Gradually, I think, you will finally adapt to the new conditions, and will be no different from my contemporaries.

       — It’s hard to get used to conditions where you’re constantly  being watched, — Vyacheslav Ivanovich retorted sarcastically.

       Meanwhile, they was flying slowly, about five hundred meters above the ground, along riverbed, and foothills gradually gave the way to forested, green plain. Rays of morning sun shimmered sincerely on the surface of water, caressing gaze of amateurs of romance. The aircraft gradually were turning right, where beyond the steep bank, the breathtaking expanse of light and freedom, landscape of unprecedented beauty were opening up. It seemed there was no end, no edge to this green sea, dotted with bizarre pattern of many small lakes and thin rivers winding among them — majestic River with branches flowed into the giant expanse of water visible on the horizon, sparking with all colors of rainbow. Nothing had touched the pristine natural landscape: not smoking chimneys of industrial giants, not the enormous dams damming rivers, not main gas pipelines, not railway lines, not stench, smoke, and imprudence of large cities, not even wretched charms of small settlements. The grandeur of this unadulterated beauty seemed unreal.

       Lityagin burst out:

       — Listen, where is everybody and everything here? Show me at least some traces of civilization!

       — And this is the civilization, Vyacheslav Ivanovich, —  Eivana responded. — We are now above one of the territories of the of New Phenomena’s Center,  where the Vo river flows into ocean. This Center has seventy-two territories—three in each of twenty-four time zones. The other centers of Society have approximately the same number of territories — it is Center of Mind, then  Center of Feelings, Center of Freedom, Center of Progress, and Center of Ethics. I should note that strict territorial divisions apply only to the Center of New Phenomena (to protect the world from possible dangers), as well as to the Valley of Geysers, where we live. Territories of other Centers of Society are quite conditional, and their activity is not limited in any way.

       About the presence of people, I can assure you: they are here, among us, but  you cannot see them, as most of them are dematerialized. It is very convenient, believe me: firstly, dematerialization provides unlimited possibilities for movement in expanse; secondly, the constant spiritual connection between people in such  state allows them to understand each other better; thirdly, a dematerialized person can always communicate with Creator, can draw strength from Him for life and work; as well as converse with their relatives, friends, and others in deep meditation. You have already experienced such communication yourself. In particular, when you, Vyacheslav Ivanovich, were walking yesterday, employees  of our Center actively sought to help you adapt.

       Lityagin remembered how yesterday he couldn't get rid of feeling that someone was watching him, and that someone was clearly prompted him, "Live. Think. Love." For the first time in his entire adventure, he suddenly began to truly grasp the reality of what was happening. Only now did he realize there might be no turning back, and that Eivana was perhaps the only woman capable of opening for him  the way to a new world.
 
       — Where are we flying to? —  he asked, almost resignedly.

       — I want to introduce you to my friends from Center of New Phenomena, and we'll be back at your residence by lunchtime.

       The aircraft soared above land and with incredible speed raced over sparkling ocean toward the sun. Lityagin felt ill again; he closed his eyes and, to avoid the nausea, tried to remain still in his anatomical chair. In a matter of minutes, they crossed ocean and began descending toward some island near the vast continent. Here, as if emerging from sea foam, a white town appeared, with numerous oval and circular buildings connected by winding passages and arches. The entire lacy configuration of this town, spread along the coast statuesque amid lush gardens, was remarkably resembled a crest of the giant sea wave.

       — It is the Center for New Phenomena, — Eivana explained. — Our laboratories, conference rooms, work and rest areas are located here.

       The aircraft landed silently on one of the flat oval roofs.

       — Please, come in, — Einy said as the glass dome rose overhead.

       — Tell me, should I perhaps register as new arrival somewhere? No? —  asked Lityagin, jumping from the aircraft's steps.

       Einy glanced at Vyacheslav Ivanovich's fleshy, plum-like nose and his little closely setting brown eyes. "If he asks like that, it means he considers his new status temporary. Weirdo! How to open his eyes? If he doesn't adapt, he'll remain at the level of his twentieth century. It'll be difficult for him. What to do with him then — I have no idea! — she thought sympathetically. However, what worried her most that this regression would be passed on to his descendants, and ultimately, it could affect the progress of Civilization.

       — We have not any registrations, —  she answered Lityagin curtly.

       — What if someone ask me for my passport or identity card? Who knows what could happen! Don't you have a police force? — the general director  persisted.

       — Your passport, Vyacheslav Ivanovich, was destroyed by civil registration department after your death.

       — And now you begin again... But, I'm seriously...

       Meanwhile, having descended the white stone staircase, they were already entering the Center of New Phenomena. Einy decided to bring him up to date:

       — Now I'll introduce you to my colleagues. We've decided to hold a meeting in the Small Science Hall, something like a press conference. First, you will tell us a little about yourself, and then answer questions. Don't worry, please, my colleagues are very friendly towards you. Besides, you're a celebrity to us, the  witness of the past!

       About forty persons had gathered in small, light-green, circular hall. Vyacheslav Ivanovich was quite surprised that all these men and women weren't fussing to take seats or jostling in aisles, but appeared by themselves, right in their chairs. A slight revival reigned in the hall, and subdued excited conversation in unknown language could be heard. Everyone without exception were attractive in appearance;  they wore tight overalls of various shades, however they all were not embarrassed by their  almost naked appearance. Women, predominantly blondes, had neat, simple hairstyles, and none of them used cosmetics. Men, mostly dark-haired, had neatly trimmed hair, some of them sported beards and mustaches.

       The assembled group members seemed overjoyed to see each other in reality, and even tried to demonstrate their slender bodies by standing up from their seats and walking between armchairs to shake hands and even hug.

       Introducing her ward, Einy spoke Russian, and the entire audience apparently perceived this language as their native, so that no translation was required.

       — This esteemed man, Vyacheslav Ivanovich Lityagin, came to us from the distant past. We have grew fertilized human eggs in the laboratory where Krug, Timi, and Zhur works. It was routine practical work, in strict accordance with the plans of Creator. About a hundred babies a year born there, and for now, it was quite sufficient to increase the intelligence of Civilization. In particular, my work on the prospects for the development of society in era of resolving fundamental contradictions requires no more than ten new minds. However, the case of this esteemed man is special. The fact is that he was born not as a baby, but as a fully formed, spiritually and physically mature twenty-five-year-old man. This circumstance is of exceptional interest: will Vyacheslav Ivanovich's brain be able to adapt to the new conditions and absorb the information flow of nine hundred thousand years, or not? Furthermore, we will be interested in whether it is an isolated case, and if not, what should be done if something similar will happen again. For our part, we will do everything to help esteemed Vyacheslav Ivanovich adapt to his new surroundings.

       When Einy gave the floor to her prot;g;, Lityagin suddenly became nervous: of course, it would have been nice to wear suit and tie for such an occasion, and more if they'd set up a tribune... But there was no other choice: he rose from his chair, straightened his already well-fitting sports jacket, and, unsure where to place his hands, rested his fingers on the edge of the low, polished table. In this half-bent position, painfully recalling all his public appearances, he addressed the assembled group, despite the early morning:

       — Good evening, gentlemen!

       A ripple of excitement swept through the hall, and restrained laughter was heard.

       — Sorry... morning. Of course, morning, — he smiled stupidly. — I'm very glad to greet you here at this Center... I think your charming colleague is right in saying that I'm very lucky to be here with you... I was very impressed by such a reception and hope for a fruitful collaboration. Of course, your life here is completely different from ours...  But ours life certainly more interesting...  we too have always strived, are striving, and — I have no doubt —  will continue to strive to work tireless without... putting our hands (he misspoke again), in order to change our lives for the better...

       He paused briefly to understand the audience's reaction to his speech, but couldn't hear anything. Devouring by eyes bodies of every woman present at once, he continued:

       — The same thing … I'd be very interested in communicating with you. I'd like you to show the same interest in me. Now a few words about myself. I was born in nineteen forty seven into a working-class family... We had difficult childhood, post-war... you see... there wasn't enough food, clothes, or shoes... you see... But we really believed that our lives would get better and strived to improve our lives... you see... The government did everything for us: we studied and received medical treatment for free, without payment, my father and mother worked in the factory... And this is how we grew up... as you can see. What we have is what we're happy with, as they say... You see... After school, I went to college, majoring in chemistry... but I worked primarily in the social... well, public path... and that's where I went, as they say. Last time I've been working... as the general director of the company "Component," where, in fact, my father brought me as a boy. I'm married, have two daughters and... wife... respectively. If you have any questions for me, I'm ready to answer them.

       Tense silence in the hall was broken by one of those present:

       — Tell me, please, what was your life's purpose?

       Accustomed to slapping together answers to the most bizarre questions in public, Lityagin didn't even hesitate:

       — What do you mean, 'what was my life's purpose'? It was most straightforward one: to provide for my children's future.

       — Do you mean, you desired to make life better only for your daughters?

       — Of course!

       — But how can your children live happier than you in miserable society where money and prices reign? —  a female voice rang out from the other end of the hall.

       General director gassed that audience was left-leaning and quickly adjusted tone of his speech.

       — A-a! That's exactly what we wanted to socia... sociallize all production and distribute it to everyone according to needs. We, dear comrades, have achieved considerable success in this. I already said, that we had free education and free healthcare, but our state also provided us with housing... so we achieved a lot. We always put the public over the personal. So... we can even share our experiences...

       The audience buzzed again. The same male voice was heard:

       — If you wanted to distribute — as you say — to everyone according to his  needs, then this very distribution implies inequality in the society, since someone must determine needs and distribute, and someone else must receive according to the needs. Do you consider such society is quite happy?

       Lityagin tensed, suspecting a trick in the question.

       — Of course... but not quite, — he said vaguely. — But... what can you do about it... —  and then fell silent, equally indefinitely.

       — So, you wanted to be among sorting persons and be luckier than the others? —  the male voice persisted.

       — Well... back then, at that times, of course... someone had to make people happy.

       — But it was possible to make people happy without being as wealthy as you, right?

       — What wealth do you mean? I filed out declaration. Everything was legal, so...
      
      — However, using your position, you were able to provide for yourself better than others, and almost always at the expense of others. And you still assure us that you strove to create a happy society. How can we trust you?

      — Just like that, to believe blindly! And they trusted us blindly! — the general director declared, becoming irritated and angrily. — And don't interrogate me, young man, — he added didactically, peering into the audience. — We're having a meeting here, but not an interrogation.

       Eivana was forced to intervene, making mental remark to employee: "Don't anger him, Krug. Otherwise, this meeting will leave bad impression. We still have to work with him". "You will see: this scoundrel will give us some more heat!" —  Krug responded. — "Especially, don't irritate him!" — "Of course, Einy. You're probably right.

       Meanwhile, Timy — she hadn't joined the conversation before — asked:

       — Tell us, please, dear Vyacheslav Ivanovich, you strove to make your daughters happy, right? However, as we learned during our research of your family's life, they weren't happy after your death. Tatyana addicted to drugs and died of an overdose two and a half years later, while Nina led a dissolute life, squandered all your inheritance, and died in 2020, along with her husband and sons, in their own apartment in fire after another drinking bout. Your wife, Elena, was so overwhelmed by her experiences that she was committed to the madhouse, where she soon made suicide at an advanced age. Have you ever considered the possible consequences of your inattention to your own family?

       "Timy, you're crazy! How can you give him such information without any preparation!" — Eivana exclaimed mentally. "It's okay, it's okay. I'll still have to fill him in on the situation. He will take it better in public," — Timy responded decisively. "You will ruin everything, Timy! He'll only get more embittered."

       Indeed, Lityagin's reaction to the question was extremely harsh.

       — You know, — he declared, — don't tell me things you don't know. My daughter... my wife, you know... And you'll also bringing my grandfather into this. He worked for the  National Commissariat of internal Affairs, and was executed  there... So what? So what? Can't I live or work now? What is your last name? I'm going to sue you for invasion of privacy. That's all. I don't think any further meeting between us would be advisable...





                VII

       All the following week, Einy, along with her comrades Krug, Timi, and Jur, discussed how best and faster to bring Lityagin's brain out of its primitive state.

      The general director's level of intelligence was comparable only to the Neanderthal's in the space age, moreover his perceptiveness was an order of magnitude lower than child's.  It was felt as if, aware of his unusual situation, he was constantly waiting for another similar one will occur, and his life would resume its normal course, just as it had at the end of the twentieth century after the Nativity of Jesus Crist, and everything would become familiar and understandable — the sritiving for  power, money, and profit would once again become his credo, his guiding star; and dividing people into allies and rivals would become an indispensable condition of psychological comfort.

       Realizing her mistake, Timy became more cautious and now suggested temporarily isolating Lityagin from all contacts, while Jur, on the contrary, opposed isolating the pupil. Krug suggested simulating the virtual environment familiar to Vyacheslav Ivanovich, but after discussion, they decided against this for the time do not do this, as such measure would certainly not facilitate the adaptation of this man's consciousness and could only be used as an extreme measure, in the event of real danger.

       Vyacheslav Ivanovich seemed was satisfied when they returned him soon to the created for him residence, consisting of the familiar office and adjoining apartments. He felt more confident and secure here. A special study area had been allocated in the study, housing a powerful computer with information of the history of the planet, it's culture and customs of peoples, the gradual merging of nations, and all the scientific discoveries of humanity since general director's sudden death — he could now get all necessary information without leaving his favorite armchair.

       Eivana worked with him every day for eight hours, with a short break for meals. Lityagin had to be forced to physical activity morning and afternoon to prevent him from gaining weight and maintain his human appearance. Einy and her friends tried, to ensure that any training was not burden for their pupil, presented  the material in interesting and simple manner, and behaved in friendly, non-confrontational manner.

       General director gradually became immersed in such lifestyle, meekly absorbing information from the computer, listening to Einy's comments, answering Jur's questions, participating in situational exercises with Timy and Krug, and playing tennis and football with employees of the Center for New Phenomena. It was seemed he absorbing the material well at his level, but researches showed that his brain was adapting very poorly and was unable to reach the next stage of its development — readiness for meditation and independent modeling.

       One of the most difficult barriers on the way to Lityagin's new life was his ingrained ideas about sex. He never left a single female employee of the Center without his male attention and uncontrollably harassed each of them. However, all his efforts were in vain, as the female employees (regardless of whether they were  in female's or male's guise), following Einy's advice, prudently erected a psychological barrier when interacting with the Center's pupil. This made the general director increasingly irritable, embittered, and stubborn. He behaved foolishly, often getting drunk alone in the evenings and muttering horrible curses as he went to bed. Eventually, this psychological discomfort began to negatively impact his training classes.

       Einy understood: of course, not everyone of his time could control themselves so much that their physiological needs wouldn't influence their mind. Vyacheslav Ivanovich certainly wasn't a strong-willed person; he was an ordinary, average citizen, indulging his weaknesses, and demanding from him to refuse sex would be unreasonable. Therefore, it was decided to make it so that he wasn't deprived of the pleasure to communicate with women very month. And he was given the opportunity to have fun with some virtual girlfriend, whom he couldn't distinguish from a real one.

       It was more difficult to explain to Lityagin the new way of life of Earth's inhabitants, linked to their ability to change their sex and regulate their age. He categorically refused to accept that there are no women or men, but only persons; and that there is no death, but only life. This was beyond the general director's comprehension. 

       — But how? You are a woman! —  he said, staring at Einy. — You're a woman, so you can't be a man. — Just like I can't be a woman because I am a man.

       — As for you, it is indisputable, — Einy retorted, regaining her masculine form. — As for me — you can see for yourself.

       — I think you, too, will be able to change your gender in time, — he added in his now very masculine baritone. — I know, in your times, surgical operation was required, and even then, the results were imperfect, and generally looked like ugliness. Now, such transformation depends solely on mood and expediency...

       Lityagin, as they say, fell away. That is, of course, for a while he tried to pretend nothing had actually happened — no big deal, he'd seen worse in his nomenclature-experienced days! But the general director fell away. As if squeezed into his armchair, he sat there, staring at Einy, unable to utter a word. After a long pause, he finally coughed and said:

       — Well, you know! I didn't expect this from you!

       — I can imagine! — Einy laughed.

       The general director stood up and, to his surprise, was able to approach Eivan and even touch his strong shoulder — Einy  had deliberately removed his psychological defenses. What the researcher had done seemed stupid and unfunny to Lityagin; he had never expected to find himself in the realm of transvestites who wanted to make him like them.

       — You know, —  he said, taking convulsively breath, — I've never wanted to be a woman in my life.

       — Really? And even if you will be born a second time?

       — Yes, even a tenth. Never!

       — It's a big pity. A great pity. After all, a man who has never been a woman and a woman who has never been a man are incapable of fully understanding each other. This hinders human relationships, not to mention the fact that true love between such persons is impossible.

       — So, are you going to... what do you call... to castrate me? — Lityagin asked doomedly.
 
       Einy laughed as he hadn't in a long time.

       — Listen to me, Vyacheslav Ivanovich, —  he said, calming down, — we won't, of course, use any physical force to you. But believe me: until you yourself are willing to rise above your own established worldviews, it will be very difficult for you. The Creator doesn't force anyone to be a man or woman; it depends on each person's personal desire. But you must become more perfect than you are. At last you must become equal to us all. You must serve to Creator, to society, ultimately! Every mind is counts, and we cherish each one! And if you don't gather your willpower into a fist, you won't be able to be independent, choose your own life purpose, beget and raise children, have friends and companions, or simply live a full life in modern society!

       After pacing aimlessly around the room, moving the glass ashtray on the polished desk for some reason, the general director fell into his armchair again.

       — Tell me... what is your name now...

       — The same as before. Einy.

       — Tell me, Einy, how long will I have to live… like this?

       — It depends primarily on you. If you find a purpose, you won't even ask yourself this question, and you'll live as long as you deem necessary.

       — And is it possible to go back to the past and finish what I've left unfinished? I heard there's some place where... how to say ... where time and space change their places. Is that possible?

       — Hardly. And why would you need that? You yourself, as a representative of the Communist Party, strived for a society of social justice, in which the principle of  "from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs" would be realized." And here it is, that society you desired! You have achieved this goal, and you are the part of it. There are no social or even biological contradictions here, no capables or unables, no rich and poor, no products and prices! And at the same time, here is everything you could wish for the benefit of overall development, for the benefit of Civilization! All you have to do — is to raise your abilities to the necessary level. You must only tell yourself: "I can do that!"

       Lityagin couldn't answer. He was sitting on the armchair in front of Einy, avoiding his gaze.

       — Good, — the researcher seemed to decide something. — Put on your helmet, while you are still incapable of meditation. I'll try to lift you toward the Creator. I hope He won't reject you, even in this, virtual form.

       The space, where the researcher was leading Lityagin boggled even the general director's meager imagination. He wasn't breathing. It felt as if his body remained pinned to the armchair along with all the absurdity and evil that had accumulated within him since childhood. Meanwhile, all that was best, immaculately pure, that still faintly smoldered in his corrupted and coarsened soul, persistently led by the researcher, unstoppably shot upward, towards the bright stream descending upon him from the seven dazzling pyramids.  Woven from countless crosses sparkling in all colors of rainbow, this pyramids multiplied, surrounded, filled, suppressed and attracted with the power of an infinitely alive  and acute feeling, incomparable to any ever experienced. He was completely dissolved in this glaring stream: there was parts from the childish love, and spiritual harmony, and sweet freedom, and immeasurable happiness, and from sincere joy, noble aspirations and genuine repentance; and in this sensual chorus, pouring from all sides, one could clearly hear the thunderous: “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end... the first and the last... Who exists and fare and is coming. Almighty.” And suddenly he realized what is the Eternity, and that the meagerness of his trembling soul cannot merge into Its merciless step, no matter how much he wanted to do so.

       It was beyond his strength. The general director was overwhelmed by the excess of long-forgotten sensations, became tired, he wanted instantly to go back.

       — Be strong, —  the researcher's voice was heard. — I understand it's difficult for you. There are over seven hundred trillions energy fields influencing you from the end and the beginning of the world, from every living here. You must withstand it all.

       However, Lityagin's consciousness left him.

       After this failed meditation, the general director had to be resuscitated for two days, as he nearly suffered a stroke. During this time, Einy, feeling guilty, never left his pupil's bedside, trying to bring him out of his crisis quickly. Moreover, due to the incompatibility with the old biological structures, new treatments did not work. It had to dig up the ancient structures in the Development Center and lose several extra hours, the lab staff even began to fear for Vyacheslav Ivanovich's life.

       However, it seems like everything worked out fine.

       Eivan's hope that the psychological shock the general director received would speed up his adaptation process ultimately didn't pan out, even so outwardly the pupil became more reserved, reduced his ambitions, became more restrained, and seemed, he realized the need of constant self-improvement. Einy began inviting him to his home in Valley of Geysers, where Vyacheslav Ivanovich became friends with Andina, spending time with her at the computer, went for walks, and he even began to make progress, managing without his helmet. At first, Andi was wary of her new acquaintance, but gradually they became friends. More accurately, the girl became selflessly attached to him, as children usually attached to cats or dogs, at the same time they teach them what they know or even don't know themselves. Meanwhile, Lityagin had his own plan: he thought that, having gained the child’s trust, he could find out something from Andy that would help him achieve his cherished goal — to return to his past life, where so many urgent matters remained.

       Andy was very interested in Lityagin's life, after all he was not some kind of virtual toy to her, but the real, genuine person from the past, she valued this fact  very much, and she was even proud in front of her peers that her new friend was a living witness of history. Several times, Eivana took her to visit the general director's residence at the Center of New Phenomena, where Andy questioned him in great detail about his life, how the company operated, who his wife and daughters, neighbors and coworkers were. She dug up many materials from the Creator's Archive about the general director's friends past life and was showing them to him, Einy, and Nikk in the "home theater."

       Lityagin watched all this with pleasure, indulging in nostalgic memories. Vyacheslav Ivanovich had no idea the girl was preparing surprise for him.

              One day, while they were relaxing on the lake shore after the virtual crocodile hunt in ancient Amazon River, Andy asked him:

       — Listen, Slav, do you always get tired so quickly?

       Indeed, the game was hard. Accompanied by the group of local guides, black aborigines, they made their way through the jungle to the water. They had to work hard with their hands by knives, cutting their way through the undergrowth, jumping from cliffs, crossing gorges, running from wild animals, escaping from midges, and lugging heavy equipment. However, the physical strain was incomparably lighter than the mental one. Lityagin was literally exhausted by the constant sense of danger lurking at every step. Of course, he knew that falling into the chasm or falling into the clutches of tiger would mean nothing more than the end of game; but the critical situations seemed so real, the reptiles' jaws so monstrous, and real possibility of injury so terrifying that the game began to resemble a nightmare.

       — I'm not tired at all, Andy, — he replied, trying to be cheerful.

       — No, I think you're tired, but not from the difficulty of walking or jumping, but from something else, —  the girl insisted.

       — I'm tired of fear, —  Lityagin admitted.

       — From what?"

       — From fear. I'm afraid of being eaten by your crocodiles, —  he tried to joke.

       Andy's eyes, filled with childish curiosity, stared fixedly at the general director.

       — Are you afraid for your life?! But it is a game!

       — Who knows, it's just a game... a game... It is still scary.

       — But Jesus Christ presented you eternal life! Why do you afraid?

       — How can I explain it to you, Andy?.. I am afraid. That's all...

       Andy hugged him around the neck, and from the unexpected contact with this direct childish affection, Lityagin almost bursted into tears: that was just like Tanya hugged him when she was child and they played together, and Nina was terribly jealous and sulked at her sister.  It had thought to him: what wonderful little girls they were, and how did it happen that in the hustle of insignificant, everyday affairs, supposedly aimed at the well-being of the family, he couldn't repay them for this pure love in the most simple way — without cars, apartments or gold trinkets — by reciprocating! Perhaps then Tanya and Nina would have lived their remaining years less comfortably, but more happily...

       Sensing pain and remorse in her new friend's eyes, Andy hastened to reassure him:

       — It's okay, Slav, you'll see – everything will be fine!






                VIII

       Lityagin couldn't understand where he was or what had happened to him.His wife had probably gone to work. And, indeed, there was a note on the nightstand. He propped himself up on his elbows, brought the paper closer to his eyes, and read: "I'm at work. Tolkushin called. Breakfast is in the fridge. Nina is in class. Tanya is sleeping, don't wake her!" His brain, soaked drenched in alcohol fumes, required some effort to recall who is Tolkushin, and then — everything he had dreamed of that night. Among all this nonsense, it became clear that his own deputy for economic affairs occupied some kind of leading position in criminal world, and that Mansur, at his instigation,   had slipped three suitcases of counterfeit dollars yesterday, which Lityagin had personally hidden in the railway station storage lockers that evening, and, so as not to forget, he had written down codes on the scrap of paper. But, he couldn't remember where he had put this scrap.

       Concerned by this circumstance, the general director scrambled out of bed, went to the wardrobe, and began searching through his clothes. However, the search brought no results. His head was buzzing, and he desperately wanted to "get better." Wrapping himself in a robe, he went to the kitchen, took a shot of Smirnoff vodka and ate some lemon. He felt himself better and could think further.

       He had to find a way out. First, it needs to check whether the suitcases really contained counterfeit dollars, or if he'd dreamed it all. Judging by the size of the sum, Lityagin had little doubt, that they were counterfeits. Therefore, it would be best not to touch them at all; let them be in the suitcases until they will hauled out of the storage locker in the presence of witnesses. Secondly, it needs report to the relevant authorities about Tolkushn’s scams, to blame him for the explosion in the apartment building. Thirdly, it would be best to pack up and head abroad till a better time, otherwise, during the upcoming elections, his competitors will not give him life and will surely start digging into this case — and without fail they will find something!

       Tanya entered. She looked pale and haggard, with dark circles under eyes, her housedress hanging like on a hanger. She sat down at the table and poured a glass of coffee.

       " Maybe she really is a drug addict?"

       — Are you ill? — Lityagin asked.

       — Yes... I don't feel well. Will you give me fifty today?
 
       Vyacheslav Ivanovich even whistled.

       — Isn't that too much? Maybe twenty? As usual?

       Then he thought: "May be give her a counterfeit hundred to try? Well, if they confiscate it, they will confiscate it, if not — not big deal." However, he decided not to take risks: what if, out of ignorance, she will say that had taken it from her father?  It is better to send the driver to scout out.

       The daughter turned on TV: "The rubble clearing at the place of the apartment building explosion on Pesochnaya Street is coming to an end. As of this hour, rescuers have recovered eighty bodies from the rubble... Security Service has opened criminal case in connection with the explosion. It has already been established that the terrorists used some substance several times more powerful than TNT for their criminal plot."

       The general director's chest tightened with fear — any minute now they will come, arrest him and inventory his property. Some time he already heard this report before, or it was a dream? Or perhaps, on the contrary, no one had fed him any counterfeit bucks, and Tolkushin is not mafioso, but an ordinary, honest employee? For a moment, he suddenly lost the reference point between reality and fiction, of what he'd dreamed and what was in reality.

       Having finished his breakfast, washed, and shaved, Lityagin went into the bedroom to get dressed, and there he discovered on the floor, right in the middle of the carpet, the very same scrap of paper with cipher to the storage locker. How had he missed it, after searching literally every nook and cranny? "So it is all true, and not a dream", — he decided regretfully, because if it had been a dream, the mess he'd gotten himself into would have resolved itself, but as it had happened, he had to find a way out.
      
       With a heart sank he approached his company, thinking that all city quarter had already been cordoned off and that they were conducting investigative actions, waiting only for him to be detained and interrogated as a terrorist accomplice. However, nothing like this did not happen. Everything was familiar as always. The security guard, for the sake of order, peered into the interior of general director’s own BMW, smiled welcomingly, and opened the gate. A company service car Mercedes was parked near the entrance. His driver Kostya was busy with car and greeted Vyacheslav Ivanovich as if they had just parted ways yesterday.

       The general director handed him counterfeit hundred:

       — Go and buy me a card for all this money. We're not going anywhere until lunch.

       Vera Nikitichna, as always, stood up when he arrived in the reception room.

       — Hello, — he said cheerfully. — What do we have today?

       — At eleven o'clock —  the meeting on  technical re-equipment, at twelve-thirty  —  Mr. Finikov will arrive  from the Ministry, at fifteen —  we will gather the tenants; at seventeen — we must receive delegation from the district administration.

       — We will hold the technical re-equipment meeting on foot and walk around the entire territory. Call everyone and have them gather in my reception room, —  the general director ordered. He was eager to see  areas, which cleared of rubbish, and think of someone else he could rent it to. — And one more thing. Call, please…  what's his name... Krivitsky at the bank. Will he be able to see me today evening?

       The secretary followed him into the study.

       — Oh, Vyacheslav Ivanovich, what a horror! Did you hear?

       Lityagin tensed up.

       — What's happened?

       — That explosion on Pesochnaya Street? Did you hear that? My friend's  relatives had all died. Can you imagine? What a times... You never know if you'll wake up in the morning, or not..

       — Ah-ah-ah... this is..., — the general director sighed with relief, — Well, it is a fate, Vera, fate... If somebody knew where would fall, he could have lay down some straw. So they say, is that true? Well, okay. Bring me some tea, it's still eleven... I will read newspapers, —  he really wanted to nock back another glass of of vodka.

       Lityagin did not know that at the very moment he and his retinue were walking around the company's grounds, glancing furtively at his deputy, Igor Vasilyevich Tolkushin, who was present too as if nothing had happened, obsequiously jotting down his boss's instructions in the notebook — at that very moment, in the office where the famous photo hangs above the desk, a remarkable conversation was taking place between the office's inhabitant, Nikolai Petrovich, and main manager of the Commercial Credit Bank, Vladimir Iliodorovich Krivitsky.

       — Hi, Volodya! How many years, how many winters!

       — Hello, Nikolai Petrovich. I never thought you'd remember me! What do I owe you?

      — Okay! 'What do I owe you' straight away! Tell me about yourself. How's your wife? How are kids? How's your business?
 
        — You know, Kolya, it's kind of awkward to talk within these walls... Let us meet somewhere on neutral territory, and then we can talk enough.
 
       — Okay, okay. Since what year have you been one of us? Since eighty-fifth, I think... I have an interesting little matter. Do you mind?

       — Okay, let us try. Only keep in mind: I don't really have time to go on any business trips.

       — No need to go anywhere. Moreover, you don't even have to leave your office. This case is about banking.

       —  Oh, really? It is really becoming interesting.

       — So, one of your clients is a company called "Component". The general director is a certain Vyacheslav Ivanovich Lityagin. His deputy is Igor Vasilyevich Tolkushin, known in the criminal world by the nickname "Tolkun". I'll let you a little secret: both of them are suspected of involvement in yesterday's explosion on Pesochnaya Street.

       — Really?

       — This Tolkun was involved in counterfeiting. Moreover, he was the only one who knew for certain that the money coming from abroad through some Mansur was counterfeit and intended to pay for terrorist attacks in Russia. Although it was done in such a way that you can't find fault with that money. Therefore, he offered Mansur to urgently get this money to Lityagin, to pay cash for a shipment of this A-mixture from the "Component's" warehouse under the guise of recycling industrial  waste. We need to find out exactly how Tolkun knew that this money was counterfeit, and simultaneously stop the circulation of fake banknotes without scaring anyone from the above-mentioned company.
 
       — So what? How can I help you? Besides, I don't even know this Lityagin of yours, Kolya... and I can't even remember what he looks like...

       — I suspect, Volodya, that Lityagin himself will seek a meeting with you to somehow invest the money he has.

       — I don't need his waste paper at all!

       — Don't worry, it won't come to that. We'll simply track Lityagin down to where he hides his counterfeits, catch him red-handed, and that's all...

       — A-ah... Well, that is a different matter... And what if he doesn't look for me?

       — Don't force yourself on him, of course. But I have almost no doubt he'll contact you in a few days... Agree to all his proposals... say it's difficult, that you need to explain the origin of this money... be a little reluctant, you might even agree to a bribe. We'll catch him red-handed when he will handing over the money to the bank. Deal?

       — Deal... And what will happen to me for this? Another tax audit is coming... I have every right to expect...

       — Don't worry. We'll try to make sure you don't have any tax audit.

       For several days, it was impossible to get through to Krivitsky; he was either holding conference, negotiating, or simply busy. Lityagin was already despairing. Besides, his driver had calmly bought a phone card with counterfeit money, and Vyacheslav Ivanovich himself had paid twice with those hundred dollar bills in restaurants, and he was beginning to think if Tolkushin had made a mistake—confusing the counterfeit bills with the real ones. Perhaps they would all be spent on petty expenses?

       Meanwhile, storing such quantities of banknotes in storage lockers was dangerous, and every time he visited the railway station, he opened his locker with shudder, afraid of not finding his suitcases there.

       But finally, Vera Nikitichna connected him with Krivitsky. To Lityagin's surprise, Vladimir Iliodorovich quickly agreed to see him. They agreed to meet on Wednesday, the very day of another explosion, which destroyed another apartment building and claimed the lives of another hundred innocent people.

       This circumstance so excited the general director that instead of riding to the office, he rushed to the railway station right from early morning. He wanted immediately to grab his suitcases, buy a train ticket, and run, run as far as possible, where he could hide from justice for a while and be forgotten. However, when he flew into the familiar corridor, opened his locker with bated breath and safely found his money there, his sanity returned. "It's okay, it's okay. Everything will be fine, — he reassured himself, glancing around cautiously, as if anyone notice him removing a wad of bills from his suitcase and pocketing it. "Krivitsky must agree, he must definitely agree! No one has ever refused such a big money. They are not counterfeit, it's the real money!"




                IX

       — Einy, why can't he just take his money and abandon this corridor?

       — My baby, I explained you once that these bills aren't real money; it is counterfeits, because they weren't printed in the state printing house, but in an underground one, and they are not backed by the gold reserves of the issuing country. Besides, it's impossible to transport so much money, and even real money, to another country; the authorities strictly limit the amount. So they will pick him up right there at the airport, arrest him, and send him to prison.

       — What a hassle! — Andy sighed, pronouncing like adult. — What to do with him – I don't know!
 
       — I think you shouldn't have started it.  This virtual world could be damaging to your Slava's mind.

       — On the contrary. I think he feels more at home here. He has a job, a family. Of course, he's taking a risk, but it is justified because he wants to become richer and happier. And here, with us, he can't even sell the skin of the virtual crocodile...

       — Well, you make it so he can sell it, — Eivan laughed.

       — Don't you understand? This isn't his element. He wasn't born some Papuan, but more developed human.

       —  Right. But if you continue down this path, he will end up in jail anyway.

       — Really? But I wanted to make it so he could buy his way out...

       — Andy, there's a limit to everything, even in the virtual world. You want to create more or less realistic picture of events, right? It is factual material before you,  not a fantastic ball in the fairytale palace, or some... crocodile hunt.

       The girl was upset, her eyes moistened.

       — I want to make him feel better. He is so confused, look how worried he is!

       Indeed, Lityagin was squatting next to the open storage locker, tails of his leather coat scattered across the floor. He was drumming his fingers on the lid of his briefcase, and looked confused and sad.

       — I hope you disconnected him from us? — Evan asked.
 
       — Certainly. A week ago, and not only him. This entire virtual world is disconnected from us. They can't see or hear us, they are acting independently. I wanted to invite Nikk, but I decided to consult with you first: is everything right... Take a look. What do you think?

       Leaving Lityagin behind - being unnoticed by anyone - they took the escalator up to the passenger lounge. People carrying bales, suitcases, and other luggage were hurrying toward the departing train. Suspicious characters milled about in the crowd, and police officers strolled sedately, keeping order. Beggars begged on every corner. "Train to Adler is departing from the track two. Departure time is eight hours and fifteen minutes"— the loudspeaker was announcing. It was drizzling in the square in front of the railway station. Taxis were pulling up. Drivers were discharging passengers and helping them unload luggage from the trunks.  Others, approaching customers, were asking in low voices, "Where are we riding?"  A threshing machine, screeching loudly, was pounding the wet asphalt on the right. Visitors, hiding under umbrellas, raincoats, and whatever else they could find, were splashing through the puddles toward metro. The newly completed, enormous and luxurious Commercial Credit building roused opposite.

       — What's your viewing radius? — Einy asked.

       — Fifty kilometers. Let's take a ride around the town? — Andy suggested with a hope, immediately pulling Eivan toward the trolleybus stop.

       All that day she dragged him through every nook of her virtual metropolis, where gray sky merged with gray asphalt, gray river water, and faded building facades.  They were both tired as never before from the noise and smoke. By evening, when they sat down on a bench somewhere on the boulevard, Einy admitted:

       — You know, baby, I would never want to live in this nightmare. But, actually, you've done a great job. It's very authentically. It will be a very good museum.

       The girl lowered her eyes modestly.

       — So, what should we do with Slav?

       — Try getting him robbed.

       — How is that?

       — Well, if someone completely unrelated, not from the security services, some thieves, would break into his storage locker and take his suitcases with the counterfeits... Thus, he'll get rid of the evidence... It’s time to go back. Cut us out of the game.

       — Let us bring Slav back too?

       — Here you go! We've been thinking, wondering... judging, arranging... Let’s do it, really.  After all, we have to make this poor guy a human.



                07 June 2026    Moscow