A moment before immortality

Dima extended his hands to the sphere, but then something grabbed his hand. He tried to pull his hand away, but tenacious black paws held him. Then their owner appeared, a huge black ghost, reaching to the ceiling. Dima tried to create a whip in his hand, but the program code crumbled from his fingers.

– Did you really think it was so easy to get into the Centrum? Statues are just decorations; any programmer can pass through them. But we will not give the sphere to anyone.

«Mitka, hit him from behind with something!» I’ll distract him, and you’ll hit him! I can’t press the exit button from virtuality. They blocked me!»

The beauty of virtuality is that you can send messages that no one except the recipient will see. The ghost had no idea yet that there was someone else in the building besides Dima. But Mitya shook his head. A tear ran down his cheek.

«Forgive me, Dim. I can’t»

«Why?»

«If I get caught now and my parents find out. I’m finished!

«Well, you and #%$#*, Dima! I didn’t expect it from you! You’re scum!

Mitya’s image flashed and disappeared into virtuality. He returned to the real world.

The ghost twisted Dima’s limbs, but he did not feel pain. Feelings were obscured by another pain that had no equal: the first betrayal, like the first love, remains forever in the heart. Tears flowed down my cheeks, which even in virtuality made my face wet. Probably, in the real world his avatar is crying.

– Do you know what I will do to you, sucker? – the ghost laughed creakingly.

– Yes to me #$%#$%, do what you want!

– Everyone said that before meeting people like me. But I will do something good with you. I will reeducate you. They say that you can educate for up to ten years. But we have found a way to educate at any age. Juvenile criminals like you are no longer sent to prison. There is little space under the sun, and every year there is less and less. Why spend money on places of detention when you can re-educate them forever and make people Ideal?

A white sphere shone between the ghost’s fingers, shimmering with rows of zeros and ones.

– What is this? – Dima asked scared, although deep down he already knew the answer to this question. He made another attempt to get out, but to no avail. He shouted several obscene phrases, but the ghost did not pay attention to them. He placed a white sphere between Dima’s eyebrows, and it shone blindingly. This light passed through the whole guy. At first it hurt. And then he, looking around. I could appreciate the perfectly even outlines of the hall.

And then there was a flash – and Dima opened his eyes on the wet cold asphalt. He hung his backpack on his back and trudged home.

The thirty-eighth floor, but for some reason the elevator was not working again. This happened often. It smelled like dog urine: many defenders let poor animals in to bask in the entrance, and laid out the bones on a piece of newspaper on the ground floor. The light was blinking while waiting for the wiring to be repaired. Swear words are written on the steel wall with a marker. Usually Dima ran out of breath on the fifth floor, but today he reached his floor without shortness of breath. The young man’s room was in «creative» chaos. The bed is not made. Dima corrected this misunderstanding. Swept and washed the floors. I washed the dishes. I replaced the outlet that I promised to fix more than a month ago. And he sat down to study. Isn’t this logical? Every teenager, when he comes home, should do nothing but study and help his mother around the house. This is the only way to please everyone.

«Well done, Dimka,» said Zinaida, returning home. She had not been so proud of her son for a long time.

– Mom, is there anything else you need help with?

– Take out the trash, son. I forgot to take it with me this morning. And now I’m very tired, I won’t be able to come down from the thirty-seventh floor.

Dima usually snapped after every attempt to force him to do something around the house. But what has changed now?

I packed my backpack in the evening so as not to forget a single textbook. I laid out screwdrivers and other items unnecessary in the educational process. At exactly nine-thirty the young man went to bed. At his age, he needs at least nine hours of sleep to stay healthy. And no games at night – they are harmful to the development of the psyche.

At the entrance to the school, Mitya grabbed Dima’s hand.

– Excuse me if you can. Dim, I don’t know what came over me yesterday. I didn’t do it on purpose. I… – Mitya burst into tears.

– Everything is fine. You did the logical thing. You still couldn’t save me. But he saved himself.

Mitya didn’t think so. The boy must fight to the last drop of blood for his brother.

– What happened to you yesterday? What did he do to you?

– He re-educated me.

– So are you really okay?

«Everything is perfect,» Dima said, and entered the school.

– Maybe it’s… let’s have a smoke before Isolda Viktorovna comes? Around the corner,» Mitya suggested.

– I stopped. Smoking is harmful to health. And I don’t recommend it to you.

Inside, as always, it smelled of cutlets and sweat. Dima greeted the cloakroom attendant warmly and changed his second shoes. Today he did not argue with the duty officers from the ninth «b».

Dima also greeted Marina. I said hello. And he moved on. And not a single word more. Marina almost choked: won’t she get some attention today? She took out her compact to look in the mirror: was there something wrong with her today? Is she not so beautiful now? Or did Dima notice this pimple on his face?

By the way, Marina only now noticed that there was no trace left of Dima’s acne.

– Listen, Dim, I was thinking: let’s meet? – Marina smiled radiantly. It didn’t work out with Vasya, so she looked for alternate ways. How will she look her friends in the face if she is alone, without a boyfriend?

– No, Marina, you don’t suit my genotype. We will not have perfectly healthy offspring. Sorry.

Marina turned green with anger, then burst into tears loudly. But the young man did not turn around at her trick. He had no emotions left.

Dima entered the office five minutes before the bell rang and went to the first desk. There was another Ideal sitting there.

Since today, Dima has not entered Technopolis. More precisely, now he was always in virtuality and never left it. The blond sitting next to him shone with white light in the expanded reality that Dima had always seen.

Dima forgave Mitya, and for some time they communicated with an old friend. But Mitya could not stand Ideal’s company for long.

– You’ve become boring. It’s not interesting with you,» Mitka once said.

Dima graduated from school with a gold medal. Graduated from the university with honors. And he lived an ordinary, ideal life. There is only one «gray» spot in his biography. When his child was born and he was offered a vaccine, Dima shook his head.

– But why? Dim, we are perfect, why don’t you want our son to grow up the same? – Dima’s wife asked.

– Yes, we live ideally. But let our son grow up happy. At least until the first mistake, let’s allow him this.

The years passed, and there were more and more Ideal ones. But among the skyscrapers stood the same school, built in the mid-sixties of the last century, in the corridors of which there was still the same smell of cutlets. And in this school, different people were welcome, even if they were not adults yet, even if they were not ideal.

Soul limit

Every year there are more and more people, but there is less and less humanity in them.

I’m sitting in a stuffy classroom. Humidity – 61% It would be nice to open the window, but Marina Velichko is allergic to the pollen of one of the plants. It seems irrational to me when 25 people suffer because of one. Moreover, one cannot call life full of life with such functional damage. Violetta Semyonovna in a dress that reflects light with a frequency of about 450 THz. People would call it red. The timbre of her voice constantly changes, and her pupils dilate slightly when she looks at the projection of world-famous paintings.

– And this is a landscape by the Russian artist Alexei Savrasov…

And then there are many epithets. No matter how hard I tried, I could not understand what the words «beautiful», «extraordinary skill», «winter splendor», «defenseless branches in their nakedness», «freshness» mean. Of course, I already remembered in what situation it is necessary open your mouth and show your teeth (they call it a smile), and when to lower your eyes to the floor (shame), but I don’t fully understand why they need this.

A signal with a frequency of about 1000 Hz, which means that you can get up from your seat and go to the next lesson. I love mathematics more than cultural studies. Mathematics is useful, but what is the use of looking at pictures drawn a hundred years ago? You won’t live in a painting, a painting won’t feed you. And it takes up a lot of information on the medium, not just numbers.

Vika Aksyonova and Yura Stepunov hold hands and look into each other’s eyes, and so on at every break. I don’t understand their logic: do you really want to touch someone when the room temperature is almost 27 degrees?

– Hey, voidman! What are you staring at? – Yura knitted his eyebrows and stared at me. – Do you have any problems? If you don’t get out of here, you’ll find them.

– Yuri, let him go his own way, where he was going. No need to touch it! – Vika whispers.

– I hate void people. Moral monsters. They have no place in our country. And let them get off the planet. There is a state program for space exploration. Let him fly to Mars. Or to Jupiter. The main thing is further from our school.

Yura thinks that his words should make me angry. Or maybe these people are jealous? We are better than them in many ways. We feel temperature and humidity better, and we can name the frequency of light and sound waves with great accuracy. And we also have no feelings. Although, sometimes I… I guess that’s what people call envy. People most often go in pairs, or find friends, and gather in huge groups. And void people are always alone. We communicate with someone when the interlocutor is useful to us. My mother was a human, and my hollow father communicated with her in order not to pay the tax for childlessness. It was more profitable for him to be with us than for himself.

Yes, I sometimes envy people. But we are a perfect race, and the future belongs to us. People’s ambitions have brought the planet to the brink of an apocalypse. If we had not appeared as a new target for persecution, then they would have continued to destroy their own kind, who simply live behind the fences of borders that the people themselves invented, for the pleasure of those in power.

The Creator gave people a piece of himself, which became their soul. When a person died, this piece passed to the new owner. But murderers, drug addicts and other criminals left behind a rotten substance when they died, which crumbled to dust after their death. One day there were so many people that the limit of souls was reached. This is how the first voidman appeared. At first, people tried to beg their child’s soul so that he would become «just like everyone else.» Ironically, voidites, people without a soul, have become the best proof of the existence of this very soul! Soon a black market for souls emerged. Parents are ready to give up any wealth to make their child humane, while others are ready to even sell their souls to feed their child. By the way, total hunger and poverty are not such rare phenomena in our overpopulated world.

Vika grabbed my hand, snatching me out of the captivity of my thoughts.

– Don’t pay attention to him.

– What? – I asked.

– Well, I’m talking about Yura. And his trick.

– Oh, you mean that. It’s OK. I take no offence. I’m used to it.

– But I’ll never get used to it. But he has a reason. His family suffered from… sorry, I mean, from people like you. I’m trying to re-educate him, but to no avail.

– But I’m telling you, it’s okay…

She looked into my eyes the whole time. And I felt something… It seemed. Void dwellers are devoid of feelings.

«So cold,» said Vika.

– What?

– You have eyes. No emotions at all. You know, sometimes I think I would like you. If only the eyes were kinder.

– What about Yura? Are you, as it were, with him?

Vika lowered her eyes and blushed.

– You are right. I’d better go. Once again, I apologize for his behavior.

After class I decided to walk home. The three-dimensional stream of gravikars spread noise over a huge range of frequencies. It’s not so easy to list all the chemical compounds that they emit. We are evolving, and perhaps my children will already be able to conduct chemical analysis with their senses. The sky is covered with a veil of smog, gray, and behind it is a scarlet sun.

Luminescent sign «Souls for hire» A completely legal office, many of them opened after the era of the birth of the void people. When people realized that there weren’t enough free souls for everyone, and most couldn’t buy one for their child even on the black market, he came to people with an offer «that was impossible to refuse.» Usually the devil bought souls for money, careers and other contracts signed blood. But in an era of scarcity, he had competitors among people who were willing to pay several times more for someone’s soul. When one business failed, he found a new way to make money. Many demons are ready to give everything to leave the underworld. But for this you need a body, and such that you don’t need to share it with someone else. A communal apartment is too much even for a demon. This is how another race appeared – the demos. They are almost indistinguishable from people. But instead of a soul, they were inhabited by a creature from another world: a demon, a demon, a devil.

Tell me, who would voluntarily give up the functional benefits of a voidman in order to become a slave to a demon? But then I remembered Vicki’s words: «I would like you. If only the eyes were kinder» I’m an ordinary voidman. But I have something from my mother: sometimes it seems to me that I know how to feel. This happens to me when I look towards Vicky, and especially when I see her eyes.

I looked at the sign for ten minutes and decided to go in anyway.

The interior is lit with incandescent lamps. How wasteful! Although, what can you take from them – people… The man looks about twenty-five years old. Tattoos from head to toe: skull, Latin inscriptions, incomprehensible abstractions. Wanting to stand out, people sometimes do unflattering things with their bodies.

– Do you want to rent a soul? – the man asked me without even greeting me.

– Yes. I’ll take the risk.

– Do you know the conditions? For ten years you will not be able to give up the demon living inside. And then, by mutual agreement, you can renew the contract every ten years. Although, no one has yet given up almost human life.

– Go ahead. Do what needs to be done there.

He sat me down in a chair and began working with a needle. When the job was over, the skull on my left shoulder grinned. I ran my hand over the rough skin. My shoulder still hurt from the needle. The room smelled sharply… you wouldn’t immediately recognize what exactly it was – my sense of smell was dulled, I could not at all distinguish the chemical composition of the air. If the operation was successful, you should smell sulfur oxide. Apparently he is. I looked at the tattoo artist. How could I not immediately notice the blackness in his eyes and the bestial grin. And his tattoos, like mine, were constantly moving, seemingly trying to cling to me with their bony paws. Dems are not so easy to distinguish from people unless you have one of their kind inside you.

That night I had a dream for the first time in my life. Vika appeared to me naked and caressed me, touching me with her soft breasts. I fell asleep thinking about her, and woke up realizing that I couldn’t live without her. If Yura had met at that moment, he would have broken it off. They’ll put you in prison – but don’t you care? How dare he hold her hand?

I lost track of time. Sometimes an eternity passes, but you look at the clock and a minute has passed. Violetta Semyonovna again chirped about the beauty of the paintings. She doesn’t understand anything, the old hag! Titian didn’t want to show «depth of emotion», he just wanted to draw boobs! Also, apparently, at night I had different dreams, and then I sketched my visions. How I want to shut up this old toad with her «richness of color.» Apparently, menopause has already arrived, and no one is looking at her «sweep of strokes.» What am I doing? Have I become angry, I can’t even control myself? As soon as the bell rang, he blew himself up and ran into the corridor.

This idiot is holding my Vika’s hand. Previously, I would not have come within three steps of him: it was logical that he was stronger than me and went to boxing. But how can you reason logically when some degenerate is holding your beloved’s hand?

– Hey you! Get away from her. She will be with me!

– Void? – Yura’s pupils widened in surprise. Why didn’t I notice the grin of his tattoo before? Is he really a dem too? I wonder how long ago? Although, Vika told me something about him. The father became addicted to heroin until one day he had to pay for a dose with his own soul and almost sold his son’s soul. Now I guessed: I sold it after all! And my son became a dem and arranged an overdose for his miracle dad. Every family has its own secrets.

– Although, I’ll look at you, you’re one of us now! I respect your choice.

– And I hate you. But I love Vika, and she will be with me!

– It’s correct to say not «I love», but «I want.» Dems don’t know how to love, haven’t you realized that yet?

Fury has taken my mind. I pounced on Yura and closed my hands around his neck. If he weren’t stronger than me, especially demo, he would have strangled me! But he knocked me out.

I had completely forgotten how to perceive time: there was simply no time in hell, so my new roommate simply did not know how to distinguish seconds from months and millennia. Half an hour ago we were fighting with Yurka, a moment later there was a conversation in the principal’s office, instructions from my parents, more lessons, fights, paintings by Rubens, and now I’m watching Yura pushing Vika into the car. I had never noticed such rage in him before. When – before? A year ago? Half an hour?

– I decided everything! Jerk! I won’t be with you. You’ve always been so cruel. You…

– Who will ask you! If not with me, then you will not be with anyone! Whore! How could you exchange me, a Candidate of Masters in boxing, for this skinny guy with glasses. Look at him.

– But I love him. Understand? Do you hear me?

We talked for a long time with my void father. He is always as logical as I once was.

«Yes, dad, she loves someone else, so I shouldn’t interfere. Yes, dad, you can find a peaceful solution. Yes, dad, I won’t fix anything with my fists, I’ll only make it worse. Yes, dad, I need to finish school and spend time applying.»

I nodded my head, lowering my eyes to the floor, although everything was boiling inside. But no, dad, she doesn’t love anyone else. All this time she loved me. And if I don’t work with my fists, then we will never be together.

Did we fight for a few seconds, hours or minutes? At this time I even forgot about Vic. Only my opponent remained. But he really is good in a fight. Why, I wonder, did Vika choose me – and not him? He’s stronger than me. When we both sat down on the asphalt, exhausted, covered in drops of blood, Vika put her hand on my shoulder. Yura looked in our direction. And then he silently shook my hand and walked away, forgetting even about his car.

And yet I loved Vika. No, I needed her not only for procreation, as when I was a voidman. I needed not only her body, like when I was a dem. I looked at my right shoulder: there was no characteristic tattoo on it. I was a man.

The next day I eagerly looked at the paintings that Violetta Semyonovna showed. I could hardly restrain the feelings that suddenly surged: how could this genius artist, with a stroke of his brush, pour out his soul, which remained immortal for four hundred years? Why didn’t I notice this before? Seventeen years of life are wasted. But the rest of my life, which I have only now begun to appreciate, I will not spend on trifles.

Matryoshka effect

I entered my room, although this time everything did not seem so familiar and familiar. Where does this smell of sweat come from, mixed with too much deodorant? Socks are scattered on the floor. The bed is unmade, and she is wearing multi-colored clothes, crumpled into a heap. He walked to the window, disgustedly stepping onto the long-unwashed floor. He pulled back the curtain to dispel the prevailing twilight. I saw posters on the walls: rock bands, scantily clad girls. As soon as the handle was pulled up, the room was filled with moist, cold October air, mixed with the choice swear words of the local «gentlemen» who were constantly sitting at the tables, as well as with the endless hum of cars. But it became fresher, at least you can breathe. A corner of a precariously hidden erotic magazine peeked out from under the bed: what can you take from a teenager? And next to it lay an equally unsuccessfully hidden white book. I wanted to leave everything in place, but curiosity got the better of me.

«Diary of Nikita Sivtsov, 8th grade student» Flipped through. «Behavior – 2, interferes with the lesson», «No homework! 2», «Had a fight with a classmate», «Smokes on school grounds. Parents should urgently approach the school principal for a conversation.» Mathematics test – and then a bad mark. Has he even stopped learning his favorite math? By the way, there were more notes in red ink than shades of blue ballpoint pen. Of course, there is almost no diary kept, so teachers even have to write down subjects in red pen.

The door creaked.

«I asked: never come into my room without asking.» This is my personal space, and you are violating it.

The voice has barely begun to become rough, sometimes breaking into falsetto. The first fluff is above the lip. On the black T-shirt is the inscription «Down with the State.» When I go out, I sometimes take a hat with me, but he still wears a T-shirt. But the main distinguishing feature: a black eye on half the face.

He handed the diary forward. Nikita immediately lowered his head.

– Even a D in math? Last year you only got an A. Remember how you idolized Vera Fedorovna!

– I… I just didn’t understand this topic. It seems like he taught. And then all the rules flew out of my head. And Vera Fedorovna was so unhappy – she sobbed, or did it seem to me? – She is good. The only good person in our… school.

He pretended not to pay attention to his obscene expression.

– Nikit, you’re a smart guy. You can become, for example, a programmer or an engineer. Or you can become like me. that’s fair. I would give anything to go back to school and correct all my math grades and achieve what is now out of reach.

The boy shyly wanted to hide his hands in his pocket, but then another trouble awaited him: a pack of cigarettes treacherously fell out onto the floor.

– You’re already smoking! How many times have you been told – it’s harmful! At your age I also became addicted. And I still can’t quit. Although I tried five times. And then again any trouble, and the hand again treacherously reaches for a cigarette.

A challenge flashed in Nikita’s eyes, and the shyness disappeared as if by hand.

«If I want to, I’ll quit at any moment.» I’m strong, I’m a man! And now I decide for myself: I like it, so I smoke. I’m already an adult.

– An adult, yes. I see you’ve decided to give up on studying and you’re smoking. Did you go to the rally again, wearing that T-shirt of yours? If you are caught, your father will be punished.

«And you’re not my father to give me orders,» he clenched his fists. And some kind of irreconcilable rage appeared in the slitted eyes. His mood changes… just like, in fact, any teenager.

Father… I concentrated, trying to remember the features of his face. But at one time I was taken into Krylov’s gang for my good memory. I was especially good at remembering faces. But I can’t remember the face. And the name… Did I even have a father? «The matryoshka effect,» I think Professor Belgorodsky called this phenomenon that way. And also recursion.