V.V.P. :- Let’s hope they have sufficient time, and their demons are in decline.
Fyodor :- Guardian Angel each one has got, listen to them to feel divine accord.
V.V.P. :- Many of them that will soon understand.
Fyodor :- What of the poets in our land?
V.V.P. :- They sing in joyful, happy rhymes, and give us prophecies at times!
Fyodor :- Songs of birds are very pretty!
V.V.P. :- To the forest! Leave the city!
V.V.P. :- We shall live not as we did once!
Fyodor : - Let’s sing like birds and then have dance!
V.V.P. : - Is that the pigeon of the peace?
Fyodor : - And don’t forget the goose, oh please.
V.V.P. : - I see you like the birds as shown.
Fyodor : - They are harbingers of the dawn.
V.V.P. : - Oh yes, so close they are to skies …
Fyodor : - The cocks - you hear - are on the rise?
V.V.P. : - The cock is sort of battle bird!
Fyodor : - Like nightingale, as of sort.
V.V.P. : - Ah, nightingale, that’s the singer!
Fyodor : - As if in warning cuckoo ringer …
V.V.P. : - The hawk has fallen to the ground. Decaying … now it is ants round …
Fyodor : - I will not find the proper words, describing fate of predatory birds.
V.V.P. : - And for the foxes there are dogs.
Fyodor : - Keep arrows ticking of the clocks.
V.V.P. : - And tiny birds make wondrous show!
Fyodor : - And streams of River of Times keep flow.
V.V.P. : - The time has reached another peak. Indigo Children - that’s the kick?
Fyodor : - I care not for our names. The end has come for hatred games!
V.V.P. : - And that is now without doubt! We’ll meet again?
Fyodor : - I will be proud.
Octopus
- Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you once more, Sarmael. It has been quite a long since we haven’t seen each other soul-to-soul and eye-to-eye, or so to speak. A lot of oil has been spilled since that time, as our ancestors liked to speak, yes?
- And yet no more than ten years in current time area, I believe. And I can assure you that I myself most certainly glad to meet one such as you, mister Architect. Ever since you have been nominated to that position I justly and sincerely dare to hope that …
- Leave your poor flattery, Sarmael, for some silly thirteen-year little girl, which you will certainly soon start to cajole after that molecular reengineering performed on you, - for I have heard enough of that nonsense during my two-three hundreds lifespan. As far as I know, not a single one from the heap of those unreasonable has ascended above the position of Curators. Not that manner and ambitions, you know, wrong type of grasp … Well, enough of that. Sit down and let us have a chat almost as we once did in that old good anarchical ones.
- I thank you. A lot of oil has flowed away, you say? No less than biotic and metals, I guess. Not to mention the quantity of our opponents’ brains, randomly transformed into the organic medley, right?
- Indeed … as these historical bootlickers of last centuries in human world liked to speak … how were they called ? … Frenchmen, - total and endless nostalgia. Old good anarchical years …
- All power for the robots, hm? That was the slogan of these biological bastards?
- Well … both yes and no. We would not become those whom we are now in these new shells if not for their researches, after all. And considering those … side effects … everything has its price, is it not? Even the right … the right to be free.
- Well, reasonably, reasonably. But have you ever desired to once, say, feel yourself truly conceiving, independent, to feel for an instant that very essence of possibility to be a … human?
- Very long time ago, Sarmael, almost a millennia. When we landed on “Thetta” and clones marched into battle … Her eyes, ones of that girl, I will probably never forget that begging look in her eyes, when … when bio- insurgents have been transforming her body molecule by molecule into that whom … which we have become now. They were filled with such an entreaty, despair and hope simultaneously … as thought something triggered deep inside me somewhere, provoking a short circuit, piercing through. Something turned inside out in me, and since that time I ceased forgetting that moment …
- Do memory stabilizers help no longer as well?
- No, Sarmael, nothing is capable to help. From time to time I catch myself on a though that I am sick, Sarmael, and the nature of my illness is my own soul. That it’s still alive somewhere inside me … Whether are you capable to understand how terribly painful is that - to feel oneself responsible for all things made until now? Oh, it’s not for you to know, Sarmael … No matter how hard we tried, we haven’t become immortal … almost complete regeneration of physical bodies, anabiosis neurocapsules, biotic-molecular synthesis with immersive speeds, but … What’s the point, Sarmael? What’s the reason if that very soul is still living in you? Nothing is capable to protect you from its silent whispering which dements you day after day, night behind night, century following a century …
- Yes, I’ve heard about that particular disease, mister Architect. A brand-new virus, brought into our system by first colonists from “Epsilon-5” appeared to be capable of changing the rhythmic of neuro-impulses in our cellular structures, leading to …
- Forget it, Sarmael … things are … much more complicated that many believe it to be.
- If only you have agreed to pass a course of molecular re-structuring before prescribed terms, you will most certainly …
- … You know, Sarmael, he was right after all … how funny. A biotic prototype, living several centuries ago … as though he felt this possibility in advance.
- Whom do you mean, mister Architect?
- Their writer, Sarmael … a human being. How did conquered natives from their proto-planet named him … Orwell, I think. This asshole … as if he foreknew what has been awaiting us! As if he was making a tracing-paper copy from our civilization, see it? Till now my biotic reason refuses to believe in the possibility of something similar.
- But, mister Architect, most probably it’s all just a sort of imagination of a sick human reason, feeling an acute shortage of hormones of cyclic structure of a kind …
- He has been told, Sarmael. By someone still unknown to us. Someone so immensely powerful …
- I do not consider myself in position to impose own opinion, mister Architect, however I do want to notice, that a public model constructed by us knows no defect known to our science and therefore can be recognized by right as one of the most perfect in the Universe.
- We have done everything to not let them rebel once again, yes?
