This announcement was made every day but today it sounded something different, unusual it sounded in a new fashion. And «financial mechanisms» were never mentioned before either. They used to speak only about «tribute» and «blood». Probably now that the World Governance was settled aliens didnt want to conceal that we were their slaves anymore, I thought inwardly.
Every system has its own secret, its mystery. You can learn it in two ways either to ask someone who knows it or to find out yourself using your agility, brain, wisdom, cunning or combination of these and other qualities. This way is more difficult but more interesting and the soul gets the most valuable experience for it. The first way is easier but less interesting. If you want to learn the secret from someone who possesses it you should offer them something they lack but it is not that easy; you should not only give it to them but you should first find out what they need. The soul, however, gets less experience for that. Shaitan was the one who knew the secret. I gave him what he wanted. I gave him myself. Not at once, of course. First I offered him my soul but he concluded it was too despicable and refused to take it. He even said he «wouldnt wipe his ass with it». And gave a wild laugh. His laughter could be heard even on the third floor. Our neighbours thought that the Last Judgement had come and called for the police. Then I nodded silently and he occupied my body and nowI dont even know when it is me or it is him, the Legion and the Devil itself, dwelling inside me Besides, when the police arrivedI was already asleep.
In my dreams I tried to understand what I needed this secret for. And I came to the conclusion that the one who learned it would become a very rich person in all senses within that system
Shaitan used to say that the person who had something in large amounts and shared it with others was less great than the one who almost didnt have anything but shared it as well. This is a really great person. And thats what only matters.
Imagine, said Shaitan, that you fetch yourself some tea. Let it be not tea but just a situation. They are having post-flight analysis. More exactly, post-fall analysis. Wait for the tea to cool down. Dont drink it at once. Watch it or havea rest. And then come back and drink it
I did everything according to the rules. Exactly as he had told me. I went for a walk in deserted and dull streets and then I came back and drank my tea. It was already cool.
But their feelings didnt cool down, the other way round, they became even more passionate, went on Shaitan, the feelings between Lucifer and Eve. That is how they were called before. And they didnt have post-fall analysis because everything ran smoothly between them. It was Eve who was having blamestorming with her previous admirer. With Lucifer she had only post-flight analysis. And these are two completely different things, as they say in Odessa. Or rather they dont.
How shall I explain it? We had mutual understanding with her. With She-Wolf It is very difficult to achieve it You should have super luckiness and super miracle. We had both.
Anyway, he stroke Eve on her light (like Sun light) head and said: «You can stay with me. But there is one rule dont bug me. If you are not going to bug me you will make me happy and I will make you happy as well». She-Wolf didnt know whatto say so she kept silent. Who was he, that man?
My friend Shaitan used to explain to me that his real name was Lucifer. But in fact he was MaRiCaBo; the thing is that he formerly possessed Lucifer. God dwells in God, Man dwells in Man, and Angel dwells in Angel. MaRiCaBo was not an exception. But he didnt dwell in Lucifer anymore. It was already his worldly life. The last embodiment before the deserved rest with her.
Some time passed. No matter how much. She was sitting at the table with him. And there was also another man.
So, what are you engaged in?
I live.
Dad, he is a writer, said She-Wolf.
I hate people answering for me. I wanted to kill him but then it occurred to me that if I had killed her fatherI would have probably spoiled relations with her mother. Even Shaitan whispered: «Not now». I started twisting a napkin in my hands.
Really? And what do you write? asked a short man of forty-five, a builder.
Books, snapped I. Are you really such an idiot as people say you are? Something malicious flashed in my eyes. And something benign at the same time.
Darling, stop it. Family table is not a proper place for your sarcasms He writes esoteric and spiritual books.
Oh, does he? asked the man pretending to be very interested in the conversation.
«No, fuck you, Im joking!» I thought inwardly.
He is also a businessman she stared at me. Hey! Are you out of reality again? In your dreams?..
She dragged me hard out of a dust cloud and space curls and returned me back to the conversation.
But why dont you think that we now see each other in our dreams? asked Shaitan. And then he fell silent.
In medical terms it is called «paranoid schizophrenia» which goes along with «split personality», «multiplied personality» (more then one hundred soldiers) and especially «the Oedipus Complex». If Shaitan had had a personal doctor he would have probably set him this diagnosis from the first glance without even consulting various classifications like MKB 10, 9 or MeSH. The other way round, it was Shaitan who in his free time worked in a medical clinic where he set the fallen mankind the diagnosis «death». I could never understand what he needed job for as he had always been very rich. I dont know where he got the money from; either he was a robber or a magician. I personally think its the same. When I used to ask him about that he either laughed loudly or said that medicine was just his hobby. As well as culture, sports, politics, religion, art and education His hobbies made the whole list. Or rather his rats in the attic. They dwelled inside his mind, he knew all their habits and they marched when told to. They kept a low profile when he ordered them to be quiet. The voices He always heard them
Anyway, he was considered mad. But he just decided to drive this world crazy. He was a mad genius and his world was mad, too. The things he created in his imagination were everlasting. They were unfathomable They will live till the new centuries come But lets get back to the point.
All this conversation at the table flew away from him. Shaitan was hardly interested in it from the very beginning. He never liked to get acquainted with relatives Family ties He was never able to understand them. So he assumed a detached look and stared in the mirror even without pretending to be interested in what the others were saying. Fly was beating against it. It was much more absorbing for him than that meaningless conversation, the table, the chairs, her stupid relatives and, strange as it may seem, even her. Dont get me wrong, he was always interested in her. After that theatre trip But now Fly attracted him more. It happened only once that day. But it was enough. Nevertheless, Fly attracted our attention. She was beating hardly against the mirror struggling to find herself. And she succeeded.
Shaitan told me that at first he just thought Fly was showing off trying to show how beautiful she was. In other words, Shaitan concluded that Fly was a female. I thought of it fora moment. Then the next moment came. And I realized that men didnt show off in front of the mirror like that. Then I watched her flying so gracefully that I became convinced that she was not justa female but a real woman. Well, I began to understand not only Shaitans words but his thoughts as well. «How strange», I thought. Or these were Shaitans thoughts? I already got confused. Then I heard his voice again. But that time Shaitan was not articulating. I stopped chewing, too.
Meanwhile, Fly was so gracious. She danced beautifully. We watched her in order to distract ourselves from the dull conversation. She was a Night Fly; she had a beautiful female body but no one could see her except Shaitan and me. Then Fly madea couple of pirouettes and the mirror shrank, then dissolved like a wave and let Fly in.
At first Fly was shocked by what she saw. She realized how little she was in comparison with this great world. Besides, she realized that the mirror vanished which meant that there was no way back left. Before her flight Oracle had told her: «The bridges are burned. There is no escape». Though there was no real fire, something was burning inside Fly. And it was burning so desperately. Fly became insane of the present and then fell asleep. I fell asleep to It was probably the moment when Shaitan possessed me. I lost control over my body completely. Besides, I was used to sleep at day time quite often. Not to be awake. I just had to pull myself together and stay awake as Jesus taught me. I was a bad Jesuss follower. I was a betrayer. I slept with my eyes open.
Very soon I woke up. But this time I woke upin my dreams because we live our real miraculous life only when we are asleep. And when we fall asleep there, we wake up here, in a mosaic of mirrors. I know only that when I used to wake up on the Earth a part of my memory was wiped out. But when I opened my eyes here, in my dreams, and then closed them my memory was all right
When I woke up for the last time in order notto sleep any more and just to stay awake, I was completely unaware that it had been my dream. And the reason is that it hadnt been my dream at all, it was reality instead. Reality! And it never occurred to me to brood on where I had been before I got there. However, I knew the place perfectly well.
In fact I appeared out of thin air in the street on the right side of which there was a small wooden building. I came nearer. In front of me there were plain wooden gates with the words «Café» on it. I entered the building. I just wanted to visit the toilet room but they let me know that I had to order something. To be honest, I found it out myself. They didnt probably visit uncle john at all? Who knows? They do.
An aged woman willing to help me to make up my mind what I wanted to order approached me. There were no menus at all. But there was her and her head which invented everything I wanted. Her head was an excellent dreamer! Eventually we decided ona cutlet with potatoes and something else I had never tasted before. All this resembled an attractor so much. Then I wanted to ask for a bill. I was used to the fact that everything should be paid with money and, as Shaitan used to repeat, money was the easiest thing to pay. And I dont know why but I decided to pay before the meal instead of afterwards. Besides, the surroundings were unfamiliar to me; I had never been there before. And not onlyI had absolutely no idea of where I was but I even didnt know which planet it was. I took out my black wallet which I used to usein the Matrix before I came there, before I plunged into my dreams, that is into reality. And then I said: «Here you are». «We do not accept cash», was the answer. And they didnt take the money. Instead they stuffed 50 reddish hryvnias into my hand. A label was glued to the backsides of the banknotes. Not sewn or nailed down or painted but glued. The labels contained numbers of about 3 cm high and 1 cm wide. The numbers were looking right up to me. I loved money very much, even more than women. Banknotes are more affectionate. Money would never deceive you and never let you down; it wouldnt give you a stab in the back. It is reliable and loyal friend, not mercantile and it is not a whore. And though it is rather difficult to have sex with money, it is your devoted ally; it will always give you a helping hand and advice. «Every bankruptcy will make you stronger, explained Shaitan. So dont be afraid of anything and go ahead». I always followed his advice.
Well, I was told to go to a bank «just across the street» with the banknotes. I replied that if these were their money I needed to exchange it. So I exchanged my 50 blue hryvnias for their reddish ones and I even didnt ask myself which of them was the genuine money. Everything surrounding me seemed genuine. Another woman approached me with the same reddish banknote but it fell on the floor and I didnt pick it up.
The food was ready in no time but instead of eating I went to pay my bill. I already forgot my desire to visit the toilet room as I had been planning initially. The question worried me: «Can they possibly trust each other so much that they dont mind getting the pay afterwards?» Brooding so, I went to find the answers for my questions in their bank.
I came out into the street and saw that the bank was indeed just across the road. But when I attempted to cross the road I appeared in a kind of a portal which moved me far away from the café and the bank. I found myself at the foot of a very wide staircase. It had shelves of real books by real authors for steps. And these were not rubbish but good books. I began to climb the stairs and with every step to the top I placed my feet on new books. These step-like shelves were organized so that the lateral sides of the books looked upwards. So, while climbing the stairs, I managed to read a lot of names and headlines. As for the books, they were pressed tight to each other like herrings in a can. The shelves represented best-sellers which had never been published and which remained just unrealized ideas. They could have become real best-sellers if their authors had been not only dreamers but ambitious people as well capable of finding the time and the moneyto publish them There were the books by all the most famous writers of their world on this staircase (I could call it «magical» if only I didnt consider magic to be sheer rubbish). Or they were rather the writers of our world I got confused again. But there were mostly the names and he headlines I didnt recognize. But that was no surprise like Shaitan I was not a reader, I was a writer. And that is why I had read rather few books. I was mostly writing them. But maybe our world was the same thing as their world. It was probably the organic whole, the two parts of the same thing. Who knows? I know only that I was climbing up the stairs. I was quite sure that I had to go ahead. And with every pace I stepped on somebodys best-seller, on the back of somebodys beautiful book. They all were of different colour, thickness and design. Some of them were even pearly. And they had only one thing in common they formed the stairs I was climbing. Strange as it may seem, I was not at al surprised that the books remained in a perfect state despite climatic conditions and the fact that so many people steeped on them. But probably, in that place there were no climatic conditions and the travellers shoes couldnt harm this great work. Either there were different laws of nature there or that wonderful momentI was the first to climb that newly-built staircase Anyway, I kept going and that was for sure. The staircase was so high and steep that the way up happened to be very difficult. I leaned on to the banisters and paused to have a rest for several times. It was very hard to go upstairs, to the Heavens. And the journey was very long. How come it hadnt occurred to me to take a book with me so that I could read it while having a rest? The staircase was so wide. But maybe it was for the better that such an idea had never come to me because if that staircase had been magical indeed, the book would have probably carried me to an absolutely different world, away from that staircase and the bank and the café and even from the idea to visit the toilet room which I had dropped long ago. Maybe I had started to read a book while sitting in the café but I just didnt notice that And it had probably carried me to the place where I was at the moment?! But why didnt I want to do my doings anymore?! Had I already done it?!