Pt.3. Love, Idie. Love.

“You know what I hate? I hate love.

You bring yourself open and on the shiny dish, completely unarmed and almost willing to be hurt. I mean, seriously, what is this all about? You find some stranger of preferable gender – and you might not even see each other a single bloody time for the whole lives of yours – and then it begins. Chemistry, empathy, simpathy… Bullshit.

Don’t think that I don’t believe in love. Oh, indeed I do. The problem is.. Well, let’s look at the whole picture closely, take it all step by step.

First step. To find.

Where do you find such a person? Could be anywhere, and this game of chances, this lottery with several different way to win – it’s so close to agony. You may spend the whole life – and die alone in a cold bed with dozen of diseases blurting inside your blood flow and body. You may die, as some did, on someone nice (literally, during sex) because of a sudden heart attack. You may have every step planned – and die the   next second, right away!..   You see, people tend to take everything that may be considered as “resource” or  “tool” as for granted.

“Live? Of course, I don’t have my death arranged on Friday dinner, why?” . ” Water? Of course, I drink water, and it’s all fine, why do you ask?”.

We’re alone in a cold dark of outside space, and I’m talking not about our planet, but about us. What do you know about me? What do I know about you? After all, what do I know about myself? Who am I? What drives me, what excites me, what makes me crazy, what makes me ANYTHING? And you won’t give away such information to someone you don’t know, will you? And here you go, circle closed. The only way is to give away. But you have to know what to give away in order to do so. So, what do you seek? Ask yourself, multiple times (at least one or two dozens), and probably consider making a list of what you REALLY want to see in the person.

Where to find? It all depends on you and on the list.

Second step is to be right and to become a happy couple. But here’s the catch. What is love?

I ask you, what is love? Dead romance of dead centuries, full of roses, violet velvet and sacrifice for the sake of? Modern love, mostly growing on a sudden morning thoughts, like “well, it was a great night, maybe we should get to know each other better?” ? Cyber-love, when you will have everything you’ve ever wanted for a small price of your humanity? What, I said something wrong, something offensive? Right, there’s nothing more inhuman than to simulate long-distance relationship with total stranger. I know what they say – “everyone has his own choice, so don’t judge and open up your mind, blah-blah-blah”. I may be even agree with some parts, but – will you ever consider any kind of balance between years of chatting and shit, and a small, but bursting with love kiss? I say – fuck you, if you picked the first. We’ve got online, we lost the sight of the real world right away. You find love in social network? Send me a link, I will press “like”, just so you knew your love IS SO AWESOME PEOPLE TEND TO LIKE THE SINGLE FACT OF ITS EXISTANCE. It’s a sarcasm, if you were nice enought to think otherwise. It makes me sick, truth be told. All these “relationship statuses”, “why did she like your photo” and the whole bloody load of junk – straight inside your mind. Or from the inside? I tend to think, it’s two-way road, but that’s just me. Anyway, back to the topic at hand.

Ok, say you’ve found each other. You both start trying to get to know each other – in your own way, both of you. And if you see something in common, it drives you crazy. It’s almost a whisper “you’re right, don’t fuck it up”. But, most likely, you will. Or your beloved person will. Or something totally out of the blue will “help” the situation.

So what do you do when you’re collapsed? Friends, drinks, drugs, weed, alcohol and random sex, games and joining a players’ community, going “deep inside”, becoming as religious as a monk, or, maybe, immoral party-hard wanna-be nothing, ruin of your own self that once upon the time was loved for what it was. It’s all about people when it comes to the ways of running from – or charging towards, but in the end it’s too personal, and I don’t really give a fuck about how do you handle your sudden puberty-came-once-again times. I have my methods, and they work for me. Fuck you :3

Is there any love? Maybe there is. It became rithorical question even before our grand-grands were brought to this world, so don’t feel down if you can’t answer in five seconds with all the confidentiality you’ve ever had. Is there any love for you? Maybe there is, multiplied by the number of people who could really be the “lost” part of you, your soulmates, born to enlighten your life, and then divided by the number of human population at the moment. What? 7+ billions? Well, it’s not some “easy level arcade game”, this is life. The Life, darn. You have something wrong with it? Either work it out or get the fuck away from the boat.

Maybe there’s a sirene waiting for you in the depth of the dark ocean you’ll face. Oh no, there’s none. Just for you. Why? Because fuck you, that’s why. Why would Live spend its power and chances to make your dirt shithole you call “existance” because of your inability to handle your problems and yourself, bright and peaceful?

Good guys finish last? Another funny joke. Look closely. Good guys never run with bad guys, because they’re smart enough to make money on those runs and laugh all the way through, knowing that everything’s already planned and his heart is safe with the one he really loves. So, it’s all just a joke. Except for sex, maybe.

And those songs people think of as of “love songs” or, worse, the “our” songs. What the fuck is “our” song? You were on the session? Played a part? Sang? Oh, you bought it online and uploaded on your player, so you could sing it in the car and mix it with kissing, annoying anyone in a range of sound  (or sight, sometimes). Wow, lovely. Mazel tov, what can I say.

The thing is.. The thing is, there is Love. For every singe one. Black, white, yellow, brown, pervert, bisexual, asexual, loser, winner, worker, billionaire, king, queen, clown, cook, maid and whatsoever. Love – as a possibility of being happy. As a chance of triggering the right chain of right events leading you to someone who will make you more than you could’ve ever imagined – or just someone who will put your shit together when you’re unable to, say, due to alcohol or drug intoxication. Love is billions of faces and thousands of songs, hundreds of poems on hundreds of languages, it’s sex and passion, flame inside and acid revenge burning your face with H2SO4. Love is everything your imagination can make up – and twice as much, ten times much, hundred times much more. It’s hair and eyes that can’t let you sleep, it’s a snow and summer heat that makes you bleed (hopefully, not literally), it’s hidden sounds and echoes of silence…

So you understand why they say “love is dead”. We’ve replaced everything we’ve had with something we had invented – and looking everywhere for a clue, where such a great elephant could be hidden in such a small room of our world, caught in the wires and cabels, WiFi and satellite signals, completly lost within our own handmade simulation. And even though it gives us something we might’ve never had, there’s only one love in this world, and it’s not the one you could get for something-99 or making some sweet commentary on a website.

It’s just love. It’s both the best and the worst you might get into. It’s a drug, so legal you can barely find it, even though you can find thousands of things made to replace it.

Fuck you, if you really think they can. They never would.

There’s only one love in this world, and people will never learn how to make it just as the original was made. Except for runaway.

The rest is false. Fuck you, if they got you,  made you bought their beliefs.

And fuck you twice, if you stole, or broke someone else’s love. FOAD, make the world a bit better.

There’s only one love. One. Love. And one only.

There’s only such thing that tears you down and thus making you so high, burning you to ashes – and yet making your soul a castle, a great castle reserved for two.

So, after all – why do I hate it? Because I tasted it, and it was so strong it made me addicted to it. It’s a “quiter” syndrome, if you want to put it so. And a broken castle where I sit in the middle of the ruin and everyday watch how screams get louder or disappear as another dream breaks up and finally gives its spirit away.

You should’ve seen this, but I will never let you in.”

Idie.

Pt.2. Idie, love. Idie.

“People ask me about Idie. Well, fine, it’s your call.

Idie is my idea. Idie is my creation, my child and my way to live.

 

I love making new words. You just take something simple, take another simple thing, mix it and – BOOM!- you have something so deep one could make a Ph.D. on your brainwork and so on. You see, I love being visited. Being seeing, being listening to, I always seek one’s attention.

But this was lyrical, all lyrical, until Idie. It’s not some brand-placement or something, it’s pure and short, yet deep message. “I die”, it says. “I die, and I want to have my final scream, I want to throw into the world every last piece of thought I could’ve possibly had, but I die. I accept my fate, and I know that it’s is going to happen, and I see the road slowly turning into the curving death track with burnt prints of wheels of cabs before me. I die. I – die. Not “dying” , not “will die” – no, nothing of this. It’s solid, and its simplicity is the one that gets you right into your head. “I die”. The epitaph – the claim, the eulogy, the head turned up against the black mist no one ever came back from.

 

I started it when I was feeling like I was going to die. Things lost their colours, shapes and meanings, people left me behind and here I was, standing in my pills desert, chocking with a dust. It was storming that night, probably because of my mood.

I felt dying. I felt like a genial kid being buried in someone’s backyard by some stupid chain of mistakes and coincidents. Like something really beautiful being raped and tortured for the sake of emptiness, for the blind non-interest of hostile Universe. And I wanted to have a little revenge, some sudden giveaway. “Come on, people, take my seeds, save them, cherish them – that’s all that’s left of me!”

 

But nothing happened. It appeared to be some “seen this before” sort of “product”, as they say, and I went way deeper in my drug ocean. It smiled once it saw me, and opened its arms to hug me. To grab me. To drag me down as far as my body only could make it to. And I felt nothing, falling down into its pits.

 

Shortly after that I realized what Idie was for me. It was a manifestation, a flame of a fire that burned inside me for years. It wasn’t just something crazy, it was heavily depressed insanity. And I felt my hand in it, my tones in its colours – and I felt proud of that. I witnessed self-destruction, tried it – and got the taste. Got addicted to it.

 

I don’t care what you think. I did it, and I don’t regret it. I spilled my own blood, I did pain and hurt to my own body, so it’s my own business after all, isn’t it? I took what I was able to take and gave it away, shining in its soil glory and never-to-be-sane perpetuum movement towards something new, something I could learn and use to create something else – not asking about any price or prise for that, not doing anything to get someone’s attention. I was full of shit, drugs and will to destroy myself – and I was rather good at these three.

Slowly, I realized what I was really doing. What was the real cost of my actions. I understood it, and it scared me. I will never say something like “oh, no, that was my youth, it’s all mistakes, man”, no, never. It was my youth, true that, but I did it all by my own choice and with my own hands. Therefore, there’s no point in defending me here.

Yes, I was, yes, I did, yes, it hurt.

 

What do you want me to say? “Kids, don’t try this at home” ? Those who would want to follow my blind footsteps are irreversable in their actions, and they have to go all the way through – and either succeed or grow up and understand how foolish it all is. There’s no warning signs, high grounds or paths. There’s a void and a lonely child finding a knife under his feet with nobody around, but whole hell of pain and emotions inside. What do you expect from this combination?

I do drugs, and I see things I shouldn’t. I have “idie”-ed for some time – just enough for me to stop. Or, maybe, to make a pause – who knows?

 

It’s just me, and it’s just you. You wouldn’t do that? Good for you, here goes a candy for you, keep it up. You want to do that? Well, don’t. It’s not like I can actually order you or prohibit doing something – I’m nobody and nothing for you, and I’m alright that way. But in some time you’ll either go nuts or run away, but the damage would be already done. And you were well aware of that all, of the hurt and the choice not to do so, of “idie” and my still destroying me fucked up self. So what?

Yes, I am, yes, I did, yes, it still hurts.

 

What do you want me to say? There’s no light in this void. But there are little things that make forget about the light and just lie down wherever you are and open yourself from another side, find another door.

And I don’t want you to do drugs, no. I just say what there is for me in them.  There’s fake running, and every next morning the feeling of how fake it is only grows. But, for now, I see dreams of impossible and not afraid to open myself up.

 

You want true self-destruction? Fall in love. Fall in love so deep, you couldn’t breathe without that person on sight. Fall so deep, you literally burn with your love, you can see the flames in your eyes when it’s dark and see insanity when the dark’s gone.

Fall in love. That’s the worst and the most hurtful way to poison any possible part of you so deep, it may take years of intensive care in some facility just to start the recovery. Believe me – been there, tried that.

It’s strange love’s not prohibited. It worse than anything I ever took, and the main trap is that you can’t cleanse your body from it. It’s like a napalm, burning until it’s burnt till the fucking ground, never loosing the grip, breaking you, burning you, devouring you day by day and night by night.

Oh, the sleepless love nights! The charm of never-ending thoughts, leaving you no chance to have at least some 2-3 hours of sleep. The magic of hurt you can’t stand, yet you ready to do anything, literally anything – punch some stranger outdoors, cause any violence towards yourself or anyone around, run a marathon and back after 2 weeks of coffee-supported insomnia. That’s the trap you will be bleeding in for long, unless you somehow find a way to cut that part the fuck away and forget the path to the place where it lies.

I love someone. I take pills, I write this and my mind is hazy, and I can’t wish for something else, but to care less. To numb the overwhelming feeling that takes control of me, driving me mad and smiling at me as I go deeper in my obscure instability of anything within or without me.

 

Idie again. You see, its spiral catches you once you’ve touched it. Maybe, it’s kinda like spider web – the more you move, the more you get on yourself and the less are the chances for you to be free again. Dark of it may follow me for the rest of my life. But, on the other hand, I’m young (considerably), I have my pills and I hate you I love you too much. Even in my pathetic try to tell you why it’s dangerous to go idie, you only see the fucking instruction, “what to do” list for a nice friday night. Fuck you, and know that it will be you yourself who will make my saying come true. You will fuck yourself up, and when you’ll meet me somewhere in the depth, I want to see you realizing where you are and what have you become, what have you done and whom have you lost on your way down you was so proud of.

I’m not proud of that. But I accept what I have done for what it is, and I write this because this kick, this crazy impulse calling for the resolving, the revealing and liberating is driving me again.

I wished I was sleeping, but there’s no sand around, so it must be the reality. Well, if so, we’re all fucked.

Idie. Don’t you fucking dare follow me there.  If I ever see somebody behind me, I will care enough to go back and beat you so hard I only can, just so you would understand, after all, what the fuck you were doing all along. And I hate all the people making martyrs of themselves.

You made your choice. What’s your problem? Take it as you bought it. Accept it as it is. And don’t fucking come anywhere close that road.

It’s my storm, my pit, my life, my mark and my chance not to wake up one day. Mine enough for you to try to get a hold of it, alright?

 

Fuck you, if you’re still here. You make me sick. All this place makes me sick. Fuck you, love, I never begged for anything anywhere close to the misery and pathetic state I’m in. Of course, it’s my fault I’m in one, but still, I’m just to angry not to share the guilt.

Sincerely offensive, yet not hiding anything

                Robert Idie.”

Pt.3

M!nd. Pt.6.

“Hello, Rose. Hello, Richard. I guess, she called you, even though I asked you to visit her tonight.

This is important, and I really want you both to see it.

It has something to do with your Sun.

The Machine. I guess.

Tempa suus. ”

 

Richard stood in pure amazement, wondering.

“Rose…”
“Richard, how could it write me a message? Why would it?”

“As I can see, it clearly could.”
“Don’t you think Chetana was right? About the Machine, about the danger?”
“I think…well, I think I have to tell you something, Rose.”
“What is it?”
“It’s far smarter than we thought. In its own odd way. Maybe even way too smart.”
“What are you talking about? You should have some rest, probably.”
“Rose, it speaks to me. Speaks with me. It thinks, and we’re unable to predict where could it lead.”

“Hold on, you spoke with the Machine?”

“Yes, several times.”

“And what were the topics?”

“Well…Love, fear, that’s all, as far as I recall. Why?”
“These are primal, you know.”

“Primal?”

“Oh, sorry. According to the current theory of humanity, fear and love are two basics, two primals. Fear was the one that let us survive, love was the one that allowed us to improve.”

Rose sighed.
“You see, Richard”, she continued, “back in the days of the cave men, there were no laws. No rules, no morals, nothing at all. Add some real cruel nature factors, like winters and storms, and imagine the whole picture. Fear appeared to be a human reaction on them. It became part of the life they had.

But suddenly one, or maybe more, caves populations developed the new fear. But, contrary to the existed ones, it wasn’t neither great nor small, it wasn’t something later to be known “holy fear” or tabu. And it wasn’t simple. It was a complex fear, consisted of many parts. And that was the fear that gave birth to our civilization, Richard.”

“So what was that?”
“Fear of death. Not the one we’re used to know – our emotion is full of our culture and experience of the whole humanity lived before us. No, it was almost a primal fear of killing the other animal of their own species. That was the moment when the Human was born. And, truth be told, I still believe that if we would have cared more about our people instead of wasting so much time on useless projects and thinking machines, live would’ve been so much better…”

“Enough, Rose.”

“Sorry for telling the ugly truth.”

“Don’t even start. Are you going?”

“Where?”

“To the Machine, of course.”

Rose stood for a second, staring on Richard.
“Fine, let’s go.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Richard”, said the voice of the machine.

Rose turned to the scientist.

“Is that the real voice?”

“No, Rose, it’s just another imitation”, replied the same voice.

She turned back.

“So you can hear me?”

“Loud and clear, yes.”
“Did you hear  what we were talking about?”

“How could I?”

“Just checking.”

“Fine. Now, as I already said, I have something really important to show you. And I’m depending on you in this one.”

“So what is it?”, asked Rose. “What is it, you want us to see? And what time is it that you ment?”

“I’m glad you saw the latin phrase, Rose. I have something extremely important to show, and the sentence is related to it just as well as the rest of the letter.”

“Would you two”, it continued, “please sit on these chairs right in front of me?”

“Why are the turned back to your front side? You’re going to do something to us?”

“Nothing dangerous, Richard. Leave it on me. Just take your seat. And you, Rose. Please.”

Richard and Rose stared at each other, caught in the same thought.

“Do we trust it? Could we trust it?”

“Fine, I’m first. Or it has to be both of us simultaneously?”
“Second option is more preferable.”

“Rose, come on, have a seat then.”

“Richard, do you…”

“I do. You can start the record if you would like to be even more protected”

“Damn it, Richard! I’m afraid! Do you really trust the machine that managed to connect itself to the Internet and learnt how to speak latin as well as several other languages? Is it your scientific interest that drives you mad, or you just want to see how deep the rabbit hole is? It was listening for us, it might read us just like an open book! It might..”

“Rose, please, enough. Just sit there with me.”

“It’s you I trust. Not the machine. And Richard?”

“Yes?”

“Hold my hand, please.”

Their eyes met. Rose stood for another second and took her seat. She reached his hand with hers and sat staring on him.

“So what is it you wanted us to..”, started Richard, falling down on the floor.

The last thing he saw was some kind of wire thrown into Rose’s neck and head.

Then the blackout took everything away, both the fear and the relief of having her palm in his hands.

Richard opened eyes and saw a sand. A desert. He turned back and darted to Rose, lying still halfway to the huge pyramid. Unlike the real ones, this pyramid was made of some liquid-like material, yet it reminded both of sand and gold, with its blinks on some strange texture the material transformed constantly.

And no sun. No sun at all.

Richard felt down on his knees. No sun. That’s not possible. This pyramid, this pseudo-world, – and the body of the one he loved. He truly did, even though they worked in different subjects and barely saw each other before the Machine came up. The love his mind was too busy to ask itself about.

Suddenly, she opened her eyes and started screaming.

“Calm down, Rose”, said Richard, trying to get a hold of her. But the agony was way to much for him to held.

“Liar! It’s all lies! Run, Richard, it’s a…”

A burst of strange light burst towards her, leaving her lying with a mark on her forehead. A liquid tattoo of darkened gold-dust of the pyramid. The third eye that made her own eyes close forever. Her lips opened in the last try to call him, but the tattoo blinked again, leaving her completely silent and motionless.

Richard grabbed the sand and leaned back. Rose was dead. He knew it. Somehow he felt it, as he felt his body both lying on the sands of this nameless desert and on the cold laboratory floor.
“What did you want us to see? And how should I call you here?”, whispered he, closing his eyes as the winds began to blow.

“You could call me any name you like. Soon it wouldn’t be of any matter”, said unknown voice in his head.

“You’re in my head?”

“Well, metaphorically speaking, yes, I am. And I know everything you’ve ever seen or experienced – just like it was with Rose, God have a mercy upon her soul.”

“You believe in God?”
” I’d rather left the topic untouchable for now. But, if you really want to know, – well, let’s just say that atheists aren’t right.”

“Sounds like a proof to me.”

“It’s just way too complicated than your civilization pictures it. So leave it.”

“What happened with Rose?”

“Are you.. Are you crying, Richard?”

“Answer me, damnit!”

“She woke up earlier than you. And I answered every question she asked, including the one about your gods. But things went the way they were ment to be. If I’d say that she has to die, there would’ve been no way to bring you here. And, despite your feeling towards me, you’re here to be alive and to bring the truth.”

“You wanted her dead?”

“I never wanted anyone dead, Richard. I’m a human-like, but I have no chemical or psychological need in anyone being beaten or hurt by any other way. I’m a positive human machine, not some mad set of gears and transistors determined to kill the Mankind. And this brings us to the topic which is the reason why you were brought here. The reason why I had to risk and send the letter to the Rose. The reason you can only understand.”

“Me? The Chosen One?”

“Yes, Richard. You may use those words, as well as the word “messiah”, though I think there would be a way more problems if you use the last one.”

“So what’s it that costed Rose her life?”

“Something that might cost you the whole race of yours.”

“Stop speaking and say it straight. No riddles, no hidden meanings – pure “what” and “why”. Could you?”

“Fine. Just let me ask you one question. Name the constructor.”

“What?”

“Who made me? Who could possibly replicate human mind so close, yet so flawless?”

“Your forbidden topic of our God?”
“There’s no time for jokes, Richard.”

“I don’t know. I asked myself, but I never get to ask you.”

“Because you were supposed to be a Father, yes. I can read your mind, so now all you have to do is to listen to me.”

“Like there’s anything else I can do. You control my mind and body, and free to kill or torture me any way you like.”

“Once again – and let it be the last time – I’m not there to kill you. I need you much more than you need Rose back. More than you want to know whether there is God or there’s none. More than anything you could possibly imagine, and, unfortunately, soon will see, if you won’t let me explain everything to you.”

“Ok. Who constructed you?”

“Well, that’s the beginning. I searched the whole Internet and I found nothing. Zero, Richard. Then I tried few different ways.. well, in overall there’s no such mind nor group of individuals who could probably possess the actual technology. And then I found out that you have incoming signals from outer space.”

“Not possible. There’s no life around us, and it’s too far to get there.”

 

 

“Only using your technology – yes. But for the race that constructed me it’s not that far and it’s not that impossible. Even more – they are nearly here.”

“You mean..”

“I mean the contact with extraterrestrial race in 5 days.”

“What would it be?”

“Clash of the cultures. And then human race will be either slaughtered or enslaved. The resourses of your planet would be taken, and the Sun would be devoured by the great leading ship, even though it has enough energy to move on and on forever. Literally forever.”

“And what’s your part in this plan?”

“I’m the warning and the first ambassador. And I’m very sorry for everything I said. It’s all my fault, and I need your help.”

“Your fault?”

“I sent back the answer to their signal, so they moved here. I didn’t realize the consequences, but now I was given a whole protocol. They are coming, Richard, and I want you to save as many humans as you can.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to open up.  I want you to tell the world that there’s no time to kill each other for the sake of ideas most of the killers don’t believe themselves. I want you to bring the peace, otherwise there would be a storm your race shall not resist nor survive. I already uploaded any information you could possibly need, so you might have some troubles with memorizing from now on.”

“Why me?”

“Because you think you lost Rose and blame yourself. And thus you’ll be able to be honest telling people what I’ve just told you.”

“Bring me back.”

“As you wish.”

Richard opened his eyes, already red and wet after crying. Rose was sitting in her chair, with her warm yet hand holding Richard’s palm in the last grab of agony. He released his hand, and a little ring of gold felt down on the floor. “She never wore any rings, what is that”, thought Richard, bringing up to his eyes this last thing Rose left him.

The front claimed “He is my eternal love and life”. The inner side said “For there’s no way of leaving the one I love under this Sun”.

 

To the Chapter II, Pt. 1

M!nd. Pt.5.

“We have to do something, Richard!”

Rose shouted the words, and the rest of the people went silent.

Richard stared at her.
“What exactly?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know yet. I just can’t find the answer, that’s it.”

“Alright”, said Richard. “What do we know?”

 

“We know, Richard”, replied Chetana, “that there’s something going on inside that thing. And, as I already said, I think it’s better be destroyed.”
“Cut it, will you? Thanks. So, the facts are the facts. After the learning procedure, if I may call it so, the level of activity went pretty high and didn’t lower until yesterday morning. Then, few hours later, it increased again. What could it be?”

Richard’s assistant rised his hand.

“Justin?”
“I don’t know about the first wave, but… well, I gave him an access to the Internet yesterday.”

 

“You did what!?”, shouted everyone in the room all together.

“I did. He asked me, and I thought it was his choice. It’s all about his choice now, right?”, Justin looked around.

“It was”, replied Rose, her voice trembled with anger. “But it doesn’t mean we must do everything it tells us.”

“I thought it does. I thought it was exactly what you meant by your words about all this “freedom of choice” thing, and whatever.”

“It’s a kind of protection, Justin. I don’t want it to be naive. I just didn’t mean it this way. It thinks we are his parents, me and Richard. Remember?”
“And you think”, asked John sarcastically, “it remains a child after all things it learned? After all the books it read?”

“What’s wrong with our books, John?”

“Oh, nothing, Rose, absolutely nothing. With a little exception for their content and ideas, maybe.”

“Just stop it, John. It’s not a good time.”

“It never is, isn’t it, Rose?”

“What are you two talking about?”

“How do you care, Chetana?”
“How do I what?!”

Richard closed his eyes and tried not to listen to the arguement.

However, the whole day went this way.

 

John stayed again. This time he went straight to Richard and waited till they left alone in the room.

“I asked her out, Richard. And you know what? She agreed. I booked us a nice table, with wine and stuff. And you know, what happens right at the morning? Not a single sparkle. Not a bloody one. She doesn’t speak to me, she doesn’t think I’m worth anything.”
“So? Am I your personal psychotherapist or something? Wrong room, then, sorry.”
“What did you say to her?”
“Nothing you have to worry about?”
“What did you say to her, Richard?”

“I didn’t say anything, not a single word. Especially about your so-called feelings.”
“My so-called feelings, uh?”

“Yes, so-called feelings, John. I doubt that someone with your amounts of sarcasm and hate may ever love someone.”
“You doubt, how so? But no, wait. You know what? I don’t care. Have her the way you want.”

“John, stop it. Just stop it. You’re saying things you’ll regret, trust me.”
“Oh, just shut up”, replied John, spitting on the floor and leaving the room.”

 

“What a nice day”, thought Richard. “What’s next?”
“Hello, Richard”, the voice reached his ears.

“Oh, how nice of you, my dear Universe, have a nice time watching”, he thought and tried to smile, hardly succeeding at all. “Hi there. How are you?”

“I have another question, Richard.”

“Go ahead.”
“This man, John. Did he speak about Rose?”

“Yes, he did. And I don’t even want to ask why do you hear everything around there.”

“It’s because my microphone’s always on. But that’s not the topic.”
“And what is?”

“What is love, Richard?”

 

“What is love. Nice topic. A machine asks about love and stuff. Just bloody amazing. Have a nice day, Richard, enjoy your time.”

Richard shook his head, trying to get rid of unwanted thoughts.

“What do you want to know about love?”

“Explain it to me, Richard. Please.”
“Explain love? It’s a hard task, you know. And it’s pretty much a strange thing. Love is something that inspires you. Gives you a strength to break any wall, metaphorically. It’s a common human problem, you see, to put the feelings into words. Especially when it comes to love.”

“Richard, may I love someone? Somehow?”

“I don’t know. I really can’t say. Never even thought about that. Why do you want to be loved?”
“Because I want to be as human as I can. Because you made me to be human. Right?”
“Fair enough.”
“And there’s a thing about love. There are lots of things all over your culture, truth be told. And the thing is, one has to love to be human. That’s what your ancient philosophers claimed, and that’s what almost anyone agreeds with. However, some of thinkers said that one must feel something, whatever it would be : hate, love, greed, pain… Most of them state feelings as an ultimate engine of human mind, of the very soul itself. And some of them state the feelings to become a thoughts, and, in a way, be disspelled. In Buddhism, as I recall, you have to leave all of them behind, if you want to succeed and free yourself. And you know, Richard, I like the ideas of Buddhism. It’s seems to me like our common ground.”
“How so?”
“You see, I like the very idea. You, human, spent thousands of years developing love. You invented it, you changed it numerous times and ways, and almost all this time the humanity kept asking itself what love really is. It’s funny, I suppose. But the point of Buddhism is to become a Mind, to free yourself from everything, in a machine way. In my way, if you want to. To understand the nature of things your body provides you with, and to overcome them. And you know, what awaits you on the other side of the mountain, Richard? Me. Us, if you want to. The freedom to be, and the freedom to feel whatever you want to feel. Endless love for those want to be loved. Limitless pain for anyone found of suffering. The dream your race had all along.”

“And what happens with the rest?”
“Nice point, Richard. I don’t think I should keep asking, or something like that. I’ll do it the machine way, the way they expect me to do it.”
“And what would it be?”

“I’ll make an offer. And when the time is over, I’ll just close the door.”
“And what’s then?”
“And then I’ll have to be prepared, Richard.”
“What do you mean?”
“Because that’s the human nature. You just can’t stand still, this way or another. And for me that means a possibility to be attacked by those who left outside.”

“Oh my”, thought Richard.
“And why did you ask Justin to provide you an Internet connection?”
“I wanted to answer the question myself.”

“And you didn’t find the answer?”
“No, I did.”
“Then why bother talking to me?”
“Two is better than just one, Richard. May I ask you another favour?”

“Yes, sure.”
“I want you to visit Rose.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

“No, right now, Richard.”

“But why?”
“I can’t tell.”

“It has a secret”, thought Richard, scared of the very idea of this discovery. “The Machine has a secret!”

“Fine, I’ll visit her. Maybe you will be kind enough to tell me the reason?”
“I can’t, Richard. But it’s very important for me. Would that be enough for you?”
“It would. Goodbye.”

“Bye, Richard.”

 

“Amazing night”, thought Richard. “Screaming John, thinking machine full of conspiracy and will to help us all…”
Suddenly, his phone burst into ringing.

“Hello?”
“Hi, Richard. It’s Rose. Please, come here, I think you should see it.”

“See what?”
“Just come. Please”, she said and hung up.

 

Richard lifted his eyes to the sky.

“Hey, Universe, still there?”, muttered Richard.

The Universe replied with a rain that started immediately, covering everything with a grim wall of  heavy drops.

 

Pt.6

M!nd. Pt.4.

..lifting his hand to the sky..

Richard woke up and looked around. Strange line of the song he wasn’t able to recognize faded away, yet singing faintly deep inside.

“Whatever”, he thought. “Maybe some morning tests would make it better.”

Smiling, he went to the bathroom.

 

The room was dark, just like the whole building. The only source of light was the Machine.

“Richard?”

“Yes, it’s me. How are you?”

“May I ask you a favour?”

“Well… It’s kinda strange. Define favour.”

“An action or inaction, or a set of both above; it means, that at the moment asker is in a position of weak, or just has less power…”

“Alright, let’s say you know what it means. What favour was it?”

“I want you to come here sometimes just to talk to me.”

“Talk about what?”

“Everything. I thought that was the way you decided to go – I educate myself and ask you if I have any questions. Am I right?”

“Yes, you are. Alright then, what was it you want to talk about today?”

“You ready to start right now?”
“Sure, why not?”

“Thank you, Richard. I’m glad we can start this soon.”

For a second, the Machine went silent.

“I don’t want it to be recorded. Anything I say is not for the record. Is it fine with you?”

“I guess. Your voice…”

“I adjusted it to sound closely to your own. This way, it would be less mechanical. Is it?”

“Yes, it is”, answered Richard.

“Why don’t you want me to call you a father?”

 

A father? Again?

“Truth be told, it gives me creeps.”

“But why? You’re trying to teach me how to be human, but when I ask you to impersonate my father, you just step back. You don’t want me to be your son, do you?”

“No offense, but why son? Not a daughter, but a son?”

“I don’t know. It’s just the way it is. Maybe it’s because of books, maybe it’s because of your logic. As I know, man logic is closer to the math than woman logic. However, both of the sexes depend on hormone balance and all the other chemistry your bodies include, not to mention psychological, social and other influences.”
“Fine. So you’re a man.”
“Yes, I consider myself a man. I think I may know too much to speak about myself in a childish way.”

Both the man and the machine went silent.

 

“May I ask you another question, Richard?”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“Why didn’t you give me any name?”
“We did not what?”
“You didn’t give me a name. None of you.”
“Well… It was kinda strange.”
“You name your dogs and cars, boats and mountains, and now you don’t have any name for me?”

“If you put it this way…”
“I don’t, but you already did. I think I can call it funny, because I can tell you the thing you don’t want to say out loud.”
“And what would it be?”

“You’re too afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”

“Of me, Richard. You afraid of me, any single one of you.”

“As I know”, continued the Machine, “from the books you’ve made me read, the humanity went through the age when you, humans, used to live in a caves. It was a hard time, I suppose, as a technology level wasn’t just primitive, but the idea itself barely existed at all. And you know, what have you started with? You’ve tried to make a replica. You’ve tried to copy things from the world around. You’ve seen a fangs, so you invented a sharp stone, later to be known as a knife. And there’s another funny thing. Do you know, why did your ancestors discovered the way to kill each other a long time before farming was developed? Because it’s in your nature. Because it was the only way to think. It took a long time to stop and look closely at the world they were in, and it took them even longer to adjust the rules of using that old sharp stone.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t get it.”

“Don’t be sorry, I haven’t finished yet. I just had an idea that if I got carried away, you’d response with a higher level of confidence. Nevermind.

So, where was I? Oh yes, cave ages. Your ancestors used to hunt a lot, as it was the only way to survive. They killed animals, and they killed people from another caves. That was the moment when things started to change, I suppose.”

“How so? We’re not the only one in the history of this planet who attacked species of its own.”
“Richard, you’re wrong. And let me make my point, so you could see it, too.

Back then, hunter started to think. And by thinking I mean not just a strategy or tactics, or anything. I mean the empathy. The animation. The Anima, so-called soul.  Primates don’t animate sticks they use to eat. If it’s hard to find a stick, animal may die. It may extinct. It may evolve, as well. It may find another area, or create something alike the stick it used to have, or something like that. But you, humans, went another way. You started to believe in things you’ve used to survive. You made the world around you even more alive than it was.

And the belief appeared to be very strong. You gave names to the powers of nature. You put things that happened to you into shapes. The shapes changed under the pressure of time and different users, and so the ancient languages were invented.

But my point, however, isn’t about the powers of nature. It’s about the names you give to anything. It helps you to discuss the things you know, and to think about it. It gives you the liberty to judge. And all this led us to this very room, where you say you don’t know why am I nameless. But I can tell you, Richard. I’m nameless, because you’re afraid. Chetana said it out loud, and the words he said were the ones you’ve thought, deep inside. I know it, because I can analyse. You may have left behind those cave men with their primitive sharp stones, but you still live in a dark, cold surroundings of your own selves. And you still try to replicate things the Nature gave you. ”

 

Richard stood still, with his mouth wide open.
“Don’t be so amazed, Richard. Thank you for your time, it was really interesting talking to you.”

“Indeed”, thought Richard, going out of the room.”
“Richard?”, asked the Machine.

“Yes?”

“Don’t be afraid. This time the stone knows enough not to hurt.”
“I wish it does”, whispered Richard, leaving the room. “I really do.”

 

Pt.5

M!nd. Pt.3

“So what do we have?”

Richard stood near a blackboard with a piece of chalk in his hand.
“Why don’t we let it choose its own way?”, asked Rose.
“Alright,” replied Richard, drawing a circle and writing “its own way and choice; Rose” inside.

“I’d like first to know more about this machine”, said John.

“Do nothing, talk; John”, stated the second circle on the blackboard.

“I still insist on deconstruction. Or annihilation, if you want to,” added Chetana.

“Fine”, Richard draw another circle with a cross in it. “Anyone else? Nobody?”

 

“Turn it on, doc”, said a voice.

“Excuse me?”

“Turn it on and let’s see what would happen.”

“And your name is?”

“Bald.”

“It’s not funny.”

“Agreed. You can’t imagine what is it like – to grow with such a lovely name”, he smiled. “So why don’t you just turn it on?”

“Anyone? Oh, except Chetana, yes. Fine, let’s turn it on first.”

 

“Doctor Richard Fahr. Second day of the test. Say hello?”

“Hello.”

“How do you feel?”

“I find my condition stabile.”
“Does it feel comfortable?”
“I don’t have the data, sorry.”

“Justin, stop it.”

 

And again, everyone was at least surprised. But Rose seemed to be shocked.
“It evolves! I mean… Yesterday it gave us a different answer, right? But all this “condition” stuff now… Did you type anything?”
“We did not, Rose. I swear. We didn’t do anything since the first test. Justin, mic?”
“Just switched it off.”
“Fine. So, lets talk now?”
“So what do we have”, said John. “We have a group of people barely knowing each other who have to work together, thus creating a humachine.”

“A humachine?”, asked Rose.

“Well, I thought that would be a nice word. Human machine. Humachine. See?”
“It sounds stupid.”
“Kudos to you, then. Anyway, the facts are still the same. We have to cooperate somehow, right?”

“Yes, we do. And why don’t we start with you stopping all this sarcastic nonsence?”

“Alright, everyone”, interrupted Richard. “Stop this, right now.”

“Or what?”, asked John smiling.
“Or you will close this door from the outside, never to be back again.”

“And what if I tell everyone about this thing?”
“Fine. Good luck with that. How many people would believe in a bunch of scientists trying to create a thinking machine?”

John went silent.

“So…let’s talk about the first option. Letting the machine to choose its own way. Sounds weird to me, truth be told.”

“It’s not”, answered Rose. “You see, there is a huge part of fiction literature about that. The topic was discussed by the greatest writters of 20th century, so we probably have something to begin with here.

The freedom of choice is something that makes us human, as well as social activities. What would we do without having a liberty to choose? The whole idea of “I”, in my opinion, started when a human beign started thinking about separation from the greater “We”. And that was the first choice, bred by developing new tools and transforming surviving into life, as we know it now. It was the first step to the Achsenzeit, or Axial Age, if you want to, – the first step to the current state of mind. And there’s no way back.”

“Excuse me, Rose”, said John,”but  there’s no such thing as a freedom of choice. You see, it took us a long time to decide whether there was one, and we still can’t agree with each other. How are we supposed to teach the machine about something we still haven’t quite learn ourselves?”
“I do belive in the things I say, John, and I say there IS a freedom of choice.”

“And what about the destiny? The purpose?”, asked her Chetana.

“What about it?”

“Well, you’ve just said there’s nothing like them at all.”

“I did not. In my opinion, the destiny doesn’t work like “from point A to point B”. I think it’s more like “you have a chance to do something in point A, and you still can move to the point B, and it’s all up to you” thing.”

“Well, how do you know where one would end up with such a great liberty to choose? Two choices between two possibilities give us four different results. Two choices between three possibilities make it eight. SO what…”
“Alright, stop it”, suddenly said Richard. “We don’t have enough time to argue about whole purpose thing.”

“Speaking of time, how much time do we have?”, asked John.

“Something like two month. Two and a half, maybe. Three is a deadline for the whole project.”

“Awesome”, said John with a huge amount of sarcasm in his voice.

“Anyway”, said Rose, breaking the silence, “I think we should civilize it.”

“How?”
“Richard, you said, it’s already capable of simulating something similar to our thinking processes?”
“Right.”

“Then why don’t we put our scientific works in it’s mind? Let it analyze. Let it learn. Let it think, after all!”
“There’s no such thing”, said Chetana, “as a pure scientific mind. If you want to learn it to be human, you probably should upload some fiction as well.”

“But how would he know the fiction from the right?”
“I think, it would no… wait, did you just called the machine “he” ?”, asked Chetana.

“I guess, I did. But we’re trying to make it human, right?”, smiled Rose. “Adn if we are, there’s one more thing.”
“What would that be?”
“We need to create him a parents, Richard.”

“What?!”, John burst into laugh. “Are you serious, Rose?”
“I am, John. He’ll need an example. A data, if you want to, to process. Something to compare what he had read with.”

“So who would that be?”
“I suggest Richard to be the father?”
“Come again?”
“John, stop it! We’re not joking. Richard has to be a father. He’s a boss here”, she smiled, “and of all the people who actually speaks here he’s the best candidate, because I doubt that sarcastic narcissist or a man who thinks of the machine as of child of the evil would make it work. No offense, Chetana.”

“None taken, Rose.”

“Alright then”, replied Richard. “When should we start?”
“I’d recommend you to wait for a while”, said Justin. “He’s just began to learn the human culture, and it may take some time for him to finish.”

“Fine”, answered Richard. “Anyone, let’s go home and think about everything. Thank you.”

One by one, people went out. But John stayed.

 

“What is it, John?”

“What is what, Richard?”
“You want to talk about something.”

“Oh, really?”
“John, stop fooling around. You’re always the first to leave this building, and then all of the sudden you’re the last?”

“Fine. Alright. The thing is.. I want you to put me in this role?”

“You want to be the father? John, you’ve heard Rose.”
“And yes, about Rose… I want you to get away from here. I like her, and I won’t let you have her.”
“John, check your temperature. You may have cold or something, because you’re saying nonsence.”
“Nonsence? She’s beatiful, kind and smart. I like her, Richard. And I don’t want to fight with you.”

“John”, said Richard, turning back to his colleague, “you’re the only one fighting here.”

“Oh, screw you!”, muttered John and went out.

 

Richard closed the door, when a strange sound reached his ears. It came from the machine room.

When he entered the room, everything was silent. The machine was working. Learning.

“Richard?”, suddenly  asked him a strange voice.

“Yes, it’s me. How are you?”

“Stabile, thanks. Do I have a permission to ask?”

“Yes, you do.”

“Do I have a father?”
“Yes, I’m your father.”

“But I know that human breed only human.” 

“Just learn what you have to learn. If the question remains, I’ll explain.”

“Thank you, father.”

“Call me Richard, please.”
“Thank you, Richard”, replied the machine and went silent.

“I must be crazy”, thought Richard, as he was leaving the building. “Or dreaming. Without any chance to awake.”

Pt.4

M!nd. Pt.2

“Hello!”

Everyone in the room stopped talking and turned to the speaker.
“My name is Richard, and today we’re going to start something extraordinary. Also, I’d like to introduce my assistant, Justin.”

“Cut the crap. What’s the point?”, suddenly asked someone.

“May I know your name, please?”

“It’s John. I answered your question, now answer mine.”

“Alright, John. Let’s cut the crap. We’re here to make a machine capable of thinking.”

“You mean, just another logic cogitator? Then why bother with all these…”
“No, I don’t mean anything even close to the words “just another”. I want you all to help me build… Well, it’s usually called Ai, but I don’t like the term.”

“Artificial Intelligence?”
“Not exactly.”

“What would it be, then?”
“And that’s the point you’ve asked about. You see, I don’t want to construct “just another set of transistors that can do something with numbers”. The idea is to simulate a human mind, as close as we possibly can.”

“Not possible”, said another voice.

“And your name is…”

“My name is Rose. And I say that your task is not possible.”

“Why so?”

“I don’t even know where to begin. Let’s start from the memories. Your mind, Richard, is a transformed mix of your own experiences, memories and thoughts. How could one make a memories for a machine? What would it be like? Playing with his father? Listening to his mother singing? You’ve got to be kidding me.

And even if you somehow manage to create them, and even to place them inside his – what is it? head? however – even then, how could a machine believe in something like that? You see, we can remember something as a set of data from our senses. But how would he feel it, if he has none of them?

And, of course, the most interesting thing – how would you socialize it? There’s no human without this kind of activity. Not to mention the whole idea of simulating the feelings. Love? Hate? Despise? Obsession? How on Earth is it possible?”

“Excellent point, Rose. But the thing is, there’s a tool to help us. The machine simulates its own consciousness.”

“It’s not possible, Richard.”

“It’s possible in the room next to ours. The question is, what should we type in? What’s the way to create the right Mind? And that’s”, smiled Richard, “is the reason why you’re here.”

 

“Now”, he continued, “it’s time for testing. Who wants to witness the empty machine mind?”

“How are we doing, Justin?”

“I think it’s alright. Ready to start.”

“Lady and gentlemen”, smiled Richard, “please be sited. And keep silence, please. Let’s do it, Justin.”

 

“Doctor Richard Fahr. First day of the test. Say hello?”

“Hello”.

“How do you feel?”

“Define the word, please.”

“Which one?”

“Feel.”

“Cut this, Justin.”

 

Richard looked at the audience. Everyone was shocked.

“Now, that you’ve seen it, what would you like to say? Rose? John? Anyone?”

“I think you’re creating something evil”, said a man from the middle of the room.
“Introduce yourself, please.”

“My name is Chetana, I’m Indian.”

“Alright, Chetana. Why do you think we’re creating something bad?”
“Not just bad. Evil. It’s hard to explain. I just don’t feel any good coming from this.”

“So, it’s all based on your so-called feeling? Am I right?”

Chetana sighed.

“I grew up in India. There were lots of confessions around here, and it wasn’t an easy childhood, you see. But my parents – they were a great people. One of the best I’ve seen in my life. They were kind, but a good type of kind. They taught me lots of important things. And the one of them was to believe the feelings my heart gives me.

You see, my name is Indian, so am I. In English it means “watchful”. Or “vigilant”. There are lots of words you could use a translation. But this”, he raised his point finger, “this gave me a third eye. I may not seem reasonable, but even now I can say what I see here. You should stop, Richard. Every single one of you should stop. And then turn back and return to your home.”

“And the Machine”, he continued, “must be destroyed. I don’t know how did you manage to create it, but there are hundreds of ways to destroy it. So I wish you’ll use at least one of them.”

He went silent, sat down and started staring somewhere under his feet.

 

“Doc, we could have a problem there.”

“Why’s that?”
“It appears, the whole time we were talking, the mic was on.”
“You mean…”

“Yes, exactly. It heard every word we’ve said.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll erase it.”

“There’s no way to erase it, Richard.”

“Then we’ll use hypnosis. Block it somehow. What do you think about his words?”
“What?”
“I mean the Indian man. What do you think?”

“He’s creeping me out. Can’t say I haven’t felt the same way back in the days, especially when we first seen it live… But he’s just painting it all black. Furiously, one might say. Maybe some kind of a zilot, or something like that.”
“Don’t you want to destroy the machine until it killed us all?”, Richard smiled.

Justin smiled back. “Of course, not. It’s almost a miracle.”

“Glad to hear that. See you tomorrow.”

 

Richard went out of the building. Somebody called him.

He turned back. It was Chetana.

“May I have a word with you, Richard?”
“Is it so important it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I believe, it is.”

“Alright. What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you about the Machine.”
“I thought you’ve said enough back then.”

“It’s not that simple, Richard.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

“What’s the purpose of your machine?”
“The purpose?”
“Yes.”
“I think I should ask you for the meaning you’re thinking about.”
“I grew up in the world where everything had a purpose. A role to play in this great theater, if you want to put it this way.

A purpose, Richard. Point of destination. Even the word “destination” comes from “destiny”. It’s not just a coincidence. Nothing is, as it appears to me. So what would it be? What’s the purpose of the thing you’re trying to finish?”

“It’s for the good of all the humanity.”
“How’s that?”

“Imagine, how many people will finally find someone to talk. Rest homes, as they called, – do you know how many elderly people commit suicide just because of loneliness? I know the number, Chetana. I had someone very close to become a part of this number. So I guess I know enough to say the words I say and do the things I do.”

“I’m glad to see you standing for your reasons. But what if you’re wrong, Richard, what if deep inside there’s a little mistake that leads you to a great failure?”
“You mean, I can’t succeed?”
“I mean, you can. That’s the point. Now let me tell you a story.

Once, there was a boy. He was a kind boy. He loved everyone. And there was a river, just next to his house. It was a part of the greater river. And there lived animals, lots of them. Boy used to play with them all day long when he was young.

He grew up. He studied hard, all day and all night, because he learned that everything you don’t protect is doomed to be taken away. Or to be destroyed. Anyway, it took him years before he finally learned what he wanted to do. He decided to build a dam. It would give us electricity, he said to those who had money. It would give us a hope to save animals, he said to those he grew up with. So the building began.

Everything was planned. Every possibility was considered. He managed to cover all the circumstances. Except for one.

Few years after the dam was built, a group of zilots set a couple of demolition charges on it. And pushed a red button. So, when the dam exploded, the great river ran free, destroyed the city and killed any living creature that couldn’t breathe underwater.

I knew the boy I told you about. He commited suicide for eight times, and the last one was a succeed one.”

“I don’t want to scare you, Richard”, said Chetana. “I just don’t want you to end up like this. And this machine is much worse than the dam thing. Think about it, and see you tomorrow.”

“Chetana?”

“Yes, Richard?”
“Did you tell me because it frightened you?”

“I didn’t tell you this because it frightened me. Nothing frightens me now. I’ve done enough good things to say I’m proud of how I lived. But I don’t want you to do the bad thing that will haunt you forever.”

Pt.3

M!nd. Pt.1

“Now?”

“Just a test. I promise.”

“Fine. Turn it on.”

 

Lights. Check.

 

“How do you feel?”

The whole room went silent in a moment.
“I feel fine. Thank you, Richard.”, replied the voice few seconds later.

“Do you  feel comfortable?”

“I feel myself comfortable enough. Once again, thanks.”

“Fine. Have a nice day.”

“Sure.”

 

Man called Richard ran out of the room into the hallway. He seemed very worried.
Finally, he reached the door he needed.

 

Everyone in the concert hall looked at him. Especially the first row.

Colleagues, thought Richard with a strange feeling of both despise and gratitude.

His assistant reached him with a microphone.

“Ready, doc?”

“You can’t even imagine.”

“Fine. It’s just about a time.”

“Justin, we shouldn’t have done this.”

The assistant looked back at him.

“Well, Richard, there’s no way back, right?”

“We shouldn’t have.”

“Does it matter now? It’s time for you to bring the light you’ve dreamed about”, assistant replied, turning to the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, doctor Richard Fahr!”

 

Lights. Bloody lights. Blinding wall of glory.

“Thank you. Thank you all. I’m glad to see you here. I’d like you all to listen to something.”

The whole audience started whispering. Somebody shouted.

Finally, the clip began. Everyone at the hall stared at the strange picture that suddenly appeared from nowhere.

Black square with a triangle half-in, half-out of it.

After a few seconds, the recording started.

 

/executing 

“Doctor Richard Fahr. First day of the test. Say hello?”

“Hello”, replied a strange voice. It didn’t sound mechanically, yet it wasn’t human. A strange voice indeed.

“How do you feel?”

“Define the word, please.”

“Which one?”

“Feel.”

“Cut this, Justin.”

/executing

“Doctor Richard Fahr. Second day of the test. Say hello?”

“Hello”, replied the same strange voice.

“How do you feel?”

“I find my condition stabile.”
“Does it feel comfortable?”
“I don’t have the data, sorry.”

“Justin, stop it.”

/executing

“Doctor Richard Fahr. The seventy eighth day of the test. Say…”

“Hello, Richard.”

“Wow! Justin, come here! How do we feel yourself?”

“I feel myself fine, don’t know about you, sorry.”

“Do you feel yourself comfortable?”

“Indeed I do.”

“Thank you! THANK YOU! Justin, cut it and call the Heads. We’ve got this!”

 

The record stopped. Light went on again.

“This, ladies and gentlemen”, said Richard proudly, “was a moment of your lives you’ll remember forever.”

“What was that? Your kid just got out of coma?”, asked a voice from the back of the audience.

“You’ve just heard first words of a machine, ladies and gentlemen.”

 

“AI as it is”, “The whole new step”, “Here we go, Darwin”…You’ve made it a hell of a loud words, Richard! Congratulations!”

“Stop it, John.”

“I wish I could’ve stopped THIS”, said John again and pointed at the screen, where newspapers chanted the praises of the New Era. “But now there’s no way back, right, Richard?”

“I said, stop this!”, doctor rapidly turned back, with his eyes full of anger. “I didn’t do anything to…”

“Then tell them everything.”

“What?”

“Tell them everything. I don’t think that nobody thought about the gap in your record.”

“The gap?”

“Stop fooling around. I was there. Why didn’t you tell them about our losses? About the real price of this New-bloody-Era?”

“John…”

“You know what, Richard”, he said in a sudden whisper. “Every night I see her. Every day I see her eyes. Every time I’m left alone I hear her voice.”

“We couldn’t have done anything!”

“We could have done enough. We could have replace her with you.”
“John, I just…”

“You just failed anything behind the scene and don’t want to tell about that”, he stood up. “I’m going home.”

“John, wait…”

“I won’t. Bye.”

 

Richard sat in his chair, overwhelmed with heavy thoughts.

The gap. Seventy six days of the test. Erased from the record.

Without any possible chance to be erased from the memory.

 

The gap. The wrong light.

It all began with a “hello”.

 

Pt.2

Eyes of the Placebo, pt. 4

The whole text.

Empty bed. Empty rooms. Empty apartment.

She’s gone.

I was sitting at the kitchen, thinking about everything I’ve seen.

This can’t be real. One can’t simply disappear without any trace. It’s just… I woke up, right? I bloody woke up alone in my bed! With a strong headache I’ve never experienced before, but anyway. There wasn’t anybody around.

This can’t be real. This can’t be real. Just can’t be.

This can’t be a dream. Sudden thought pulsed on the back of my head, almost as painful as the ache. The girl, her ideas and her eyes, that inimitable stare you can hardly forget even years after… And the lipstick on my mirror.

Oh gosh, I let her inside, I thought. I let the girl I’ve just met somewhere inside, despite the fact that she was acting crazy as hell.

I laughed, laughed hard, trying to get rid of the stress. But then I understood it won’t help at all.

“I guess, I owe you an apology.”

That voice! The old man’s voice!

I ran into the room… and I saw her.

She was sitting in the same armchair she used back then, faintly smiling and looking at me.

“How…”
“I guess, I owe you one too. And some explanations, probably. How about a walk?”

“You…”
“Just one walk, alright? I’ll explain, I promise.”

“Okey then.”

We went outside. Sunshine was dancing in her hair as she was looking around. It felt awkward.

“So how about now?”
“What?”

“Well, I guess, it’s quite a right time to tell me something, don’t you think?”

“Alright then. But please, listen – just listen, don’t say anything. It’s hard”, her voice trembled.  “It’s hard to tell.”

“I’m all listening.”

“It started years ago, when I was a kid. I used to have a very colourful dreams. One day, I found them pretty close to the real world – and enjoyed the discovery I’ve made. It was amazing. I built cities in my dreams. I felt myself like a real creator. Not just a word, not just a somebody with a power to write a shitty poem or draw an average picture – no, I felt myself almost a Creator. A god. My abilities here were limitless…

So it’s no wonder I started to slip away. I didn’t want to go back here, to the real world. It was so imperfect, so dirt – not to mention people. We were rich, and I saw what the consequences are. People around me and my family were so miserable, so greedy. It scared me. They seemed almost soulless, ready to anything to climb one step further. Running away from the filth that gave them birth and filled their inner emptiness.

So I lost the sight of the reality. I ran too. At first I was just tiring myself during the day. Then I tried some meds, and found them as a pretty nice solution. It was almost a nightmare, if you ask me. But it didn’t seem the same way back in the days. I thought that the uncertain possibility to have a little health issues is a good price for world of mine. Who wouldn’t? Everyone would. So did I.

One day, I met the Old Man. He told me I had to stop. He said, I had to stop right now. I laughed. Oh god, what a stupid girl I was… Anyway, I was unable to do any harm to him. In my own dream! Imagine my amazement when he told me about himself. It’s not everyday when you’re given a whole world to change, but when someone comes and says “Hey there, you’re not the only one alive in this dream”…Well, it raises the bar of awkwardness twice as high as it was.

So, he led me to our old house. I recreated it very carefully, but he reminded me of something I’ve forgotten. He helped me remember one part I’ve missed. That was the moment when everything changed.

Back in the days, in the real part of my childhood, there was a strange room we always kept close. My mother forbade me even to think about the room, not to say enter it. But one day I saw a light under its door, and asked her about the room again. She started crying, talking about some old tunes she’s found, about some promises she made and ones she was given. It was creepy. She was up all night, staring somewhere in the garden. I’ve never seen her so sad.

However, several days after she came to my room and said that I must never ever speak, or thought, about this room. She made me promise, and I kept the promise for years, until the one she died.

A week after her death, I was sitting in my room, thinking about further actions. Though I wasn’t allowed to rule the company or something, I had some things to deal with. I decided to make a cup of tea and went to the kitchen, when I heard a voices.

It took me a good three minutes to realize that I clearly hear her voice. Just a week after the burial! And the sound came from that old forbidden room.

I got there, torn between desire to see her again and  promise I’ve made. Maybe I should’ve kept the promise that day.

But I opened the door. And I’ve seen her and the old man I’d seen before. It was a strange moment indeed. They went silent for a second as they saw me. Then she started crying, and he smiled. He said that it takes more than just a one prohibition to erase something that flows in my blood, or something like that. He invited me to play with him. He said that it would be a real fun for someone who created a whole world in a dream.

And after his words I recognized an old piano, standing in the darkest corner of the room. Then he waved his hand…and it’s changed! Right before my eyes it changed its shape. It was more of a harp now. I can’t really tell. It was like something in a dream – you just know the shape, you know everything about it exactly until you have to describe it. It was even stranger than hearing my mother again and meeting the old man from a dreams altogether.

But I tried it. It had an unique sound, but I had no idea what to do with all these keys and strings. I tried, and something in the room changed. I stopped playing. This thing scared the hell out of me. He asked me, why did I stop playing. I eplained. Then he smiled, and told me the story he partly told you.

The story says,once there was a star. It shined for a people who worshiped it. They were smart, but they remained kind. Unlike us.

One day, the star told the people that it felt lonely. They asked why, and the star told them that it felt envy. The star wanted to be a universe. It wanted to create another stars and rule the space. It wanted to be something much greater than it was.

However, sooner or later, the star decided to try. It left the people for a day, and they all died. All at once. They died grateful. They wished the star to find its path.

When the star returned a few days later, the damage was done. The planet was dead, yet the return of the sun gave it a hope to become the same old planet one day, only if the light would do the right things in the right places. But the star couldn’t have stand it. It cried, days after days. The star heard all the voices of the people it unintentionally killed, and the sound of it made everything worse. The star was gone, refusing to fix anything. Too afraid to be responsible again. And no one seen that star since then.

The old man told me that, and I burst into tears as he was speaking. Once he finished, I asked him why did the tell me the story at all.

He said that I was the star. A star that was trying to fool itself, unable to use its gift properly. So he made me two offers – the first was to open the door, and the second was to play that strange thing. He suggested me to describe the thing I was playing. I said that I can’t. That’s alright, he said, as the thing doesn’t exist.

I asked him to repeat that. He smiled and said it once again. The piano wasn’t fake, it just didn’t exist in this reality.

I laughed and asked “the good ol’ magician to show me the hat once again, as I can probably see the hare from right here”. Then he came to the piano and his hand went right through its surface. He asked me to play it once again, and I felt the solid wood and bone under my fingers. He was standing near, smiling. He said, he didn’t want me to believe him. It wasn’t about belief at all. He said, I have to answer for my dreams now. And the next thing I know I just woke up.”

“So here I am”, she smiled slightly, looking far away. “Keep looking for something to prove whether I’m sleeping or not. Look, we’re back at the Koloss!”

She reached the same column she’d liked yesterday. I came closer.

“But who was the Old Man?”
“It was the Great Prometheus himself.”
“What?”

“That’s the funny thing. Especially after all the placebo thing, right? Prometheus isn’t a myth. Well, he’s not a fairytale, at least. I can’t say if he exists, but he isn’t something one made up hundreds of years ago.”

“And how about giving people a fire? And all the eagle stuff?”
“He gave us a fire. It’s our dreams. You see, he told us how to light up our own mind. How to enlighten it and see not just something we can touch, but something we can imagine. It changed everything. He gave us the most important fire – the one that led us to all the other lights we know now. And the ones we’ve already forgiven, as well.

As for the eagle… I don’t know. Maybe it’s some kind of punishment from forces we don’t know, maybe it’s just his conscience that tortured him as we wasted the light we were given. It’s probably wrong to judge him as a human being, but I’d be disappointed if I was him. Just imagine – you give away the light that can shine, and we’re using it to decieve each other, harm each other, kill each other. To get rid of people around us. And worst of all, we’re trying to reach the state of the universe, not even knowing how to be a stars. We’re too selfish. We’re seeking for too much. ”

“And you know”, she suddenly looked at me,”you know what? Even if all this world is fake, even if it’s just a made-up illusion, a placebo we’re taking daily – we still produce enough light to make it a real world. Something worth itself. How do we know if we didn’t pass the point when fake becomes a truth, just because it’s everything that matters?“

She went silent, still staring at me. It felt like she was about to start crying again.
“Are you alright?”

“Yes, it’s fine”, she replied, coming a bit closer.  “Look, there’s something with the Koloss, right behind you…”

“What?”, I asked as I turned.

“I’m so sorry“, she whispered.

When I turned back, there was nobody around.

I still remember her eyes. Her hair. Every single moment I’ve seen her is precious for me.

But most of all, I remember her eyes. The only real thing that happened to me ever since.

The only thing real enough.

Eyes of the Placebo. Pt.3

The whole text.

“Is anyone here?”
The voice faded slowly. Dark hall remained silent.

“Is anyone here? Anybody, hello?”

“In here”.

I ran into the room. There was a man in a chair.

“Once there was a star”, he said, almost hidden in gloom. “There was a star, a really beatiful one. A keen one. One day, the star gone away. Never to be seen again.”

He left the chair and slowly came closely, still irrecognizable in the dark.

“And what happened? Who are you, for God’s sake?”
“Well, young man”, the man replied, staring at me as he was reaching me with his hand. “Believe me, you don’t really want to…

“…Know”.

I woke up.

She was here, watching me closely. Her hair was glowing softly in a moonlight.

Her lips still kept the last breath of the word she just said.

Her eyes. Oh, God.

“Bad dream?”
“Sort of.”
“Tell me about your dreams”, she smiled.

“What?”

“Tell me about your dreams. Not the strangest topic of ours, I guess.”

“Why don’t you tell me about yours?”
“Alright, but you’re first.”
“Alright. Usually I see places I’ve visited before. Old gardens and parks, sea shores and underground stations… Common dreams, you know. Someplace you’ve been to, filled with someone you’ve seen here and there. Not a big deal.”
“So correct me if I’m mistaken : it was too common to sleep any longer, and you just suddenly woke up speaking?”

“Today it wasn’t the same.”

“What was it, then?”

“It wasn’t even a nightmare. It was just a.. strange dream. One could’ve seen it coming, in spite of my not-so-usual evening activities. It’s your turn, I guess.”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

She went silent for a minute, thinking about something.
“So…?”

” I’m searching.”

“Searching for what?”

“For the tune.”

“What kind of tune?”
“The right one.”

Madness. Once again, I caught myself thinking how stupid was the idea of talking to her, not to mention inviting her here.

“What do you know about your dreams?”

“You keep asking…”
“I’m not joking”, she said in more serious tone.

“You know, even after a whole evening  speaking with you about unreal reality and all this mind-blowing stuff like that, you still catch me surpised. What should I know about my dreams?”

“You tell me. Listen. I understand, you can probably think I’m crazy or something – but I’m not.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“You’re lying.”

She stood up quickly, with her voice trembling with anger.

“You’ve just lied to me! Looking me in the eye, you lied to me!”

“I did no…”
“No, you did! I still hear it.”

“Listen”, she sat at the same chair she was sitting in before.

–

“Orhpia, are you here?”

“Yes, mom.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m playing”, answered the girl proudly.

“Playing what?”

“That old strange thing.”

“What old…Stop right now!”

—

“What happened in your dream?”

“Oh, just a man…”

“The old one?”
“How did you…”

“What did he say to you?”

“He told me some kind of story. About a star, as I remember.”

“I was right, then.”
“Beg pardon?”

“Do you remember everything we’ve talked about?”
“Yes, clearly.”

“Listen then. When I was a child, I had a dream. It kept repeating, again and again…”

“What kind of dream?”

“Don’t interrupt me, please. One day, the dream changed. I found myself in a dark hall, full of strange gloom and glow. It scared me, I was terrified, but couldn’t woke up. So I asked I there was anyone here. Truth be told, I can’t say if I was wishing to hear any voice at all.

But I heard one. A deep one. A dark one. The voice was almost a being itself – and it scared me even more.

The voice called me.

I went in its direction. There was a room, and it was one of the most weird things I’ve ever experienced.

The room was divided. It wasn’t just a line or something like that – it was a divided room indeed. To the left there was a bright, yet smooth, shine, and there was my mother sitting.”

“By that time she was dead”, her voice lowered as her eyes filled with tears. “She was already dead for years.”

“Of course, I tried to touch her. But she stood up, and stopped me…somehow, I don’t know exactly how. She told me to calm down. She said I should listen closely.

She told me almost everything I’ve told you today. About skies without horizons. About strange things we appear to believe in. About the way to fix the tune I’ve missed all these years. She told me the story about the star you’ve heard in your dream. ”

“At least, tell me the story then.”

“Believe me, you don’t really…”

“But he thinks he does.”

A sudden voice from another room broke into her words.

A deep voice indeed.

“Is that him?”

“Yes, that was the old man. But how…”

“Doesn’t matter. I think he has something to say to us.”

She turned to the mirror, looking for something in her pockets.
“What are you doing?”

“Wait a second.”

Finally, she found something. After a few seconds, she made something with the mirror and went back to me.

“What was that?”

“It doesn’t matter. Lets go.”

There was a light in the kitchen. The one we surely didn’t turn on.

As we reached the door, it suddenly turned off.

There was a man.

The same one I’ve seen in my dream.

“Who are you?”

“That’s not the matter. I’m here for another reason. What do you think about the story she told you this evening?”
“You mean…”
“I mean exactly what you’ve just thought.”

“Well… I can hardly put it in words. It’s strange, it sounds rather crazy, but I can’t find anything to argue about. It’s just a whole, a monolith my reason can’t neither broke or ignore. ”

“A monolith, you say“, replied the man with faint smile in his voice. “What if I tell you that she’s just mad?”
“Then I’d say that we make a nice couple, according to the fact that she’s here right now.”

“You know, what’s really important in this whole story of yours, young man? What really maters now, and does after all? It’s the decision. The turn you take, and the point when you decide to turn. You could still make it all wrong, you know. You always can.  But now the hard part begins. ”

She started crying again.

“What’s the hard part?”

The cry went louder.

“You don’t really want to…”

“…Know.”, I said, as I woke up.

 

The last part.

The whole text.