Chapter Three
…And I opened my eyes. The table
clock showed a quarter to seven. I got out of bed and went to the kitchen to
make breakfast. As soon as I cracked the first egg over the frying pan, a small
virtual fragment of that large panoramic futuristic “canvas” that my father,
mother, and I had observed during the night flight fluttered out of its shell.
It was about Scotland, a country
that had left the United Kingdom. Before me, floating the rocky shores of the
islandы, washed by the cold waters of the North Sea. I saw fishing schooners
with holds full of herring shining silver; countless flocks of fine-wool sheep
on mountain pastures; and finally, large oak barrels in which malt whiskey
matures. And I even fancied I could smell its tart aroma.
The shrill sounds of bagpipes and
drums reached my ears. Scottish archers in traditional kilts marched along the
streets of Edinburgh, stamping their feet. A crowd of festively dressed people
greeted them: men, putting their right hands to their temple in a military
manner, women and girls throwing red and white roses at the archers' feet.
The proud, obstinate ancestors of
malt whisky made their choice. In a national referendum, they declared that
pan-European democratic values were more precious to them than the ossified,
mossy traditions of the British monarchy. London refused to recognize
Edinburgh's independence. After a series of ultimatums, the English threatened
to return the Scots to the flock of the metropolis, like lost sheep, by force.
But it was too late. By that
time, Scotland had been recognized by Argentina, Bolivia, Ghana, Guatemala,
Honduras, Qatar, Iraq and other democratic states. The Scots were supported by
the European Bureaucratic International. Brussels warned London that if force was
used, it would receive the toughest economic sanctions in response. And a NATO
rapid response military contingent, reinforced by two divisions of Ukrainian
marines, would land on the British Isles to protect the free democratic
expression of the will of the Scots.
After that, in the offices of
Buckingham Palace, in the House of Lords and on Downing Street, they came to a
unanimous opinion: it would be cheaper for the United Kingdom to lose one, even
the most delicious of its constituent parts, than to feed a foreign army. And,
having cried into each other's shoulders, the proud English swallowed the
"Scottish pill", no matter how bitter it tasted. Thus, in my
futuristic dream, "Brexit", that is, its exit from the European
Union, came back to haunt proud Albion.
"This can't be! And anyway,
what do you have against Great Britain?" So my awakened Brain reacted to
this not-yet-happened geopolitical event of the distant future. Which I
immediately guessed from the electrical impulses that flashed between the temporal
parts of my head.
"This can't be! And anyway,
what do you have against Great Britain?" So, Brain reacted to a
geopolitical event of the distant future. Which I guessed from the electrical
impulses that flashed between the temporal parts of my head.
"Who narrowed it? What
narrowed it? Why narrowed it?" Brain, who had woken up, started asking me
questions.
“Don't worry, it was just a
dream!” I said. "However, dreams can sometimes be prophetic. Just imagine
the situation: while the politicians and military of the United States of
America are sorting out the Californian separatists, who have decided to
formalize a civilized divorce from the federal government, Russia and Turkey
will be strengthening their positions in the Middle East.
Yes, after a long military
confrontation, they will collude and divide the territory of Syria into parts,
creating two sovereign puppet democratic states: Southern and Northern Syria.
Thus, they will present not only the world community, but also the main
conductor of anti-terrorist activities in the Near and Middle East – the United
States of America – with a fait accompli…
“Nothing, absolutely, nothing! I
just dreamed it. And after watching TV news programs, as you know, you can
dream about anything,” I answered peacefully, like an unshakable pacifist.
Taking the second egg in my hand,
I hesitated: should I need to break it? It was not a fact that another fragment
from that very futuristic panorama would not “hatch” from its shell, which can
turn out to be no less controversial than the previous one. After hesitating
for a minute, I nevertheless broke the egg - I was really hungry! And as soon
as the contents of the egg spread over the surface of the frying pan like a
sunny chamomile, I felt a smell of burning, in my face a hit of dry hot sand.
“The Middle East!” I guessed. And I thought, what a tight geopolitical knot
will be tied there soon!”
"Who narrowed it? What
narrowed it? Why narrowed it?" Brain, who had woken up, started asking me
questions.
“Don't worry, it was just a
dream!” I said. "However, dreams can sometimes be prophetic. Just imagine
the situation: while the politicians and military of the United States of
America are sorting out the Californian separatists, who have decided to
formalize a civilized divorce from the federal government, Russia and Turkey
will be strengthening their positions in the Middle East.
Yes, after a long military
confrontation, they will collude and divide the territory of Syria into parts,
creating two sovereign puppet democratic states: Southern and Northern Syria.
Thus, they will present not only the world community, but also the main
conductor of anti-terrorist activities in the Near and Middle East – the United
States of America – with a fait accompli…
"Who narrowed it? What
narrowed it? Why narrowed it?" Brain, who had woken up, started asking me
questions.
“Don't worry, it was just a
dream!” I said. “While the politicians and military of the United States of
America are sorting out the Californian separatists in Sacramento who have decided
to formalize a civilized divorce from the federal government, Russia and Turkey
wanted will strengthen their positions in the Middle East.
After a long military
confrontation, they will collude and divide the territory of Syria into parts,
creating two sovereign puppet democratic states: Southern and Northern Syria.
And thus they will present not only the world community, but also the main
conductor of anti-terrorist activities in the Near and Middle East – the United
States of America – with a fait accompli…
"And what about Israel? Will
it remain silent? Or will it appeal to the United Nations again?" my Brain
was indignant, twisting the chain of neurons into a tight serpentine spiral.
Yes, about Israel? It will be put
in an awkward position,” I continued cautiously, knowing with what reverence my
Brain treats the descendants of Kings Solomon and David. "Nevertheless,
the Jews will soon come to their senses and respond to the geopolitical
conundrum that has arisen adequately. They will take and annex the Palestinian
Authority under the cover of noise, thereby wiping Iran's nose. In addition,
Jerusalem will annex the Jordan Valley, Jewish settlements in Judea and
Samaria, as was done in its time with the Golan Heights, which, with the
consent of the United States, became an integral part of the Jewish state...”
“Nonsense, this is all sheer
nonsense!” Brain gave a crisp answer. “Nonsense, this is all sheer
nonsense!” Brain gave a crisp answer on my prognosis politic.
“And the divorce of Sacramento
and Washington, in your opinion, is also nonsense?” I persisted.
"I don't know, I don't know,
in recent years American public opinion has become more radical. In particular,
in the state of California itself. As a result of the aggravated disagreements
on this issue, several initiatives were submitted for public discussion: one of
them concerned the division of California into smaller states, others - about
its secession from the United States," Brain summed up.
“In other words, you don’t rule
out the possibility of such a scenario developing in the future?” I asked with
the caution of a diplomat well-versed in international negotiations, especially
during meetings with the red-headed Dodi.
"It's not my business to go
that far," Brain avoided a direct answer. "I'd rather refer to the
authoritative opinion of professionals. For example, political scientist and
professor at Carleton University Steve Sideman believes, that California's
departure for 'independent sailing" largely depends on who will be in
power by that time. "If it's the Republicans, they'll most likely say:
"good riddance," while the Democrats will argue with them: "We
must keep California in the United States, otherwise we'll find ourselves on
the sidelines forever," the professor believes...
“Today, yes! And tomorrow?” I
asked cautiously, afraid to upset the balance that had been established between
us.
“Everything you say comes across
as biased, I would even say far-fetched!” Brain responded with a slight strain
of his brain.
“This is not for me personally,
but in my futuristic dream.”
"Is it really? But it seems
to me that there was no dream," he objected. "You made it all up
yourself, only to fool me."
“Do you think I'm capable of
that?”
"I doubt. But you never
know!" Brain admitted frankly. And, as it seemed to me, he dozed off
again.
"Finally!" I thought. "Let him rest a little!
"But before breaking the third egg, I prepared myself for another
surprise. And I was right.
"I didn't have time to throw
the third eggshell into the trash can, a stereoscopic self-moving picture
appeared above the sizzling frying pan. The main characters of this short film
were a young man and a pretty black woman. They were walking along Avenue des
Champs-Élysées towards the Arc de Triomphe, and kissing under the shade of
chestnut trees.
Lovers are a must-see feature of
this Parisian landscape; as is the endless stream of people and cars, and, of
course, the famous old tower, sticking out in the background like the raised
middle finger of the right hand of its creator, engineer Eiffel.
“Is it really you, Lenya! How
come I didn't recognize you right away?” Said Mom, hugging and pressing me to
herself. “And who is this sweet Black girl? You know, I've already fallen in
love with her as my daughter-in-law...”
Dad patted me on the shoulder and
said:
“Well done, boy, I knew that you
wouldn’t let me down and would make me happy by finally learning the nature of
happiness!”
My parents were happy. They had
long dreamed of grandchildren and believed that their expectations had finally
been fulfilled. I, standing nearby, nervously bit my lips. I felt awkward
watching, as if through a keyhole, these two neophytes who were walking the
streets of Paris and kissing passionately.
At the same time, I could not
understand or explain to myself where this unknown episode of my biography came
from. Yes, I had a dark-skinned gypsy girl from the Sambar, yes, I had an
affair with a nice local Jewish woman - a poetess, short, with an olive-colored
face and stiff, wire-like, black curly hair. But I don’t remember that kissing
a black woman, even if you kill me! And I told my father about it. However, he
brushed aside my explanations and stated, “If it didn’t happen to you yet, it
will definitely happen in the future! You only have to wait, to believe, and to
hope…”
I don't know if he was in his
right mind when he said that. But here I am again, in a delicate position: from
my bachelor's kitchen, watching myself. Yes, watching myself, watching myself,
watching myself, kissing a black girl on a famous Parisian street. Not only
that, I'm not only watching them, I'm listening to their conversation.
Here they are walking along the
Champs Elysees and discussing a Parisian woman who just left Tiffany's in shoes
on her bare feet.
"Here, the shabby bitch, and
she too!" said the girl. "What do you mean?" asked the guy.
"Legs," she said. "What legs, I don't understand?" he said.
"Bare feet of French women are a brand! It showed that their owner belongs
to the so-called "bobo", that is, to the bourgeois bohemia," said
the girl…
I could have watched this pair of
lovers for a long time, and listened to everything they said. Having forgotten
myself, I was about to use that method of moving in time and space that Alberta
had invented, and step out of my kitchen straight to them, on the Avenue des
Champs-Élysées. Yes, exactly as he had done in his time: moving in the blink of
an eye to the Arabian Desert and back.
However, the noxious smell of
smoke filling the kitchen brought me back to reality. I suddenly turned off the
gas, but it was too late: my fried eggs were pretty burnt. And I had to eat my
breakfast of sandwiches alone. While I was eating, I watched the news program
on the World News channel. In the morning hours, they broadcast yesterday's
latest news.
“Syrian troops, with the support
of Russian aviation, have resumed their offensive in Idlib province,” the
announcer reported. “Due to intense shelling, hundreds of thousands of
residents of this province have left their homes… Western countries are afraid
that a further advance by government troops could cause a humanitarian crisis
in Syria and a new influx of refugees into EU countries…”
The events that were discussed in
the news program were not a surprise to me. I had learned about them much
earlier, when I was in a temporary “formlessness” with my mom and dad. “But if
the scenario of these events changed for some reason, it is no longer my
fault,” I thought and switched to the local TV channel.
Harry Violet immediately appeared
on the screen, as always, in a fashionable baggy jacket. Harry is a local
celebrity, a TV star. He was informing the population of the region about the
rise in utility prices. While reporting this banal news, Harry behaved like a
provincial clown: he puffed out his cheeks, stuck out his lips and bulged his
eyes so much that they almost popped out of their sockets.
At the same time, he manipulated
his voice, sometimes lowering its timbre to a tragic sound, sometimes raising
it to a screech. It was obvious to the naked eye that Harry wanted to appear
smarter in the eyes of TV viewers than he actually was. However, no matter how
hard he tried, he was far from the level of Larry King or Tucker Carlson, or
even our Matvey Gonapolsky. And I, pressing a button on the remote control,
returned this local clown back to the other side of the plasma TV screen from
where he had just appeared.
“You’re jealous, huh?” Brain
responded to my actions after waking up.
“Why ‘envy’?” I was indignant.
"Because you wanted to
become a famous journalist yourself, but you were kicked out of there like a
mangy dog. That's why you're angry..." Brain teleported to me.
“What do you mean: "Kicked
out?" I wanted to become an international journalist, but they immediately
offered me to join the ruling party. Without it, they said, you won't make a
career. So I had to leave. For ethical reasons, as you remember...”
"Yes, yes, I remember,"
Brain took note of my explanations. "But don't be upset, soon artificial
intelligence will take over mass media affairs. It will compose texts itself,
voice them, control them and broadcast them. Only dry facts, only balanced
commentary and no emotions, eroticism or pornography. Because all this
negatively affects the digestion process of millions of decent law-abiding
citizens..."
“And what will happen to these
already active journalists?”
"No big deal! They've been
broadcasting and will continue to broadcast banal truths, unsuccessfully trying
to manipulate the consciousness of gullible viewers. But this will happen on
other channels, in another spatial and temporal dimension. As I believe, they
will be specially opened for losers like you!" Brain sneered once again.
Yes, I remember that in the
twentieth century, scientists from economically developed countries worked on
creating new types of weapons so that they could destroy an enemy or outcast
country with one blow. But how drastically the vector of their searches has
changed! Now these "eggheads" have taken up the creation of
artificial intelligence. Humanity, if it survives, will never forgive them for
such a dirty trick.
You're right! Artificial
intelligence is a weapon of the highest order. Our solar system hasn't seen
anything like it since its inception..." Brain agreed with me.
“My biggest fear is that with the
help of artificial intelligence, governments and corporations will know more
about us than we know about ourselves. Using this knowledge, they will be able
to manipulate not only our consciousness, but also our feelings. Though they
have been doing this for a long time, turning us all into digital
autists," thought I.
“Alas, the plans of artificial
intelligence and the petty interests of ordinary people are incompatible!”
clarified Brain.
