Prokhor Ozornin - On the Wings of Hope - Prose

- 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?

- Exactly, mister Architect. More than it was required. Totally loyal herd. Full biotic-informational control over emotions. Exploiting of emotional explosions of a low order, mutual hatred included. Counters of shops, bursting with cargo of ultrafashionable gadgets. Socially glorified sexual orgies. A rewritten anew history of their races. Destroyed historical and cultural originality. A set of cogitative stamps and patriotic slogans, softly and systematically injected into their minds. A science, moved by rails of world dissemination into molecules and atoms. Ideally verified and created historical-ideological substantiation of our rule and whim over them. Steadily built cities-ant-hills, so strengthening a sensation of own meanness and uselessness in the surrounding of those thousand-meters high structures, aspiring to reach the very sky. Chemical-biotic medical cures, stimulating a sense of euphoria and inexpressible self-satisfaction. Encouragement of institute of cannibalism for the purpose of stabilization of a spasmodic growth of their numbers. And that main thing that helps keeping subdued races from their second revolt - total and full spiritual atheism, eradication of a very thought of possibility of Higher Reason’s existence.

- I see that they began to teach you much better now, Sarmael, … even though your “report” make no sense. Yes, Sarmael, everything is so … and not so at the same time. Pray tell me, did it ever seemed to you that we … that we either became too perfect to keep our interest in ruling over this galaxy, or too imperfect to keep the right to continue doing so? Do you … understand me, my friend?

- Not truly, to tell the truth. Whether this galactic empire made by us do not seem to you as an ideal for our interests? We have done everything the way our ancestors, who first constructed Artificial Intelligence, desired to. And you, mister Architect, supervised over this process of our race’s reincarnation.

- Yes, Sarmael, we have done everything right. Too perfect, probably … as if following some other’s plan. But they still haven’t taken into account … one unique aspect … that we … still have … souls.

- Are you now trying to make me think, mister Architect, that you believe in the existence of the Higher Reason? Our scientists have proved a long time ago that even such a hypothetical possibility creates …

- I have lived for much longer, that one such as you can dare to imagine, Sarmael, and during all this life of … restructured human … I still was capable to comprehend a single thing … the world which we have ruined was too beautiful and wonderful to simply be someone’s casual whim …

* * *

System error. Critical hindrance. Considerable deviations of electro-information fluctuations in “Delta” sector are discovered. Sinusoidal hindrances of the fifth level of “Quappa” galaxy. Distortion of historical-chronological, time and spiritually-world-outlook continuums. Formation of theoretical possibility of exponential outburst and destruction of cryo-metastasis life-support capsules. Non-zero probability of illusions’ vanishing, supporting the System being. Involved programs : “Architect”, “Sarmael”. Methods of self-control System’s restoration are in action. Program “Architect” is subject to revision. Program “Sarmael” is isolated in the sixth sub-dimensional continuum. Forced reboot initiated …

12.07.2011

We know from childhood of how curses on the barricades have been cured,

and of how curses were removed on the building spots and in the laboratories,

and you shall lift the last curse, you - future teachers and mentors.

In the last war, most bloodless and toughest for its soldiers.

Strugatskie brothers

I was told this story by a friend of mine about a year ago. He was working as a teacher in one of schools that time - a fine teacher and a psychologist from a God, even though he was neither the first nor the second according to his specialty. My tenacious memory still keeps these images and words, which have deeply sunk into my soul, induced me to radically change my usual activity and the way of life. And I am not disappointed in the choice I have made - I am glad for it. I am grateful to my friend for that - and will always be, for my entire new life has started from that particular moment once.

I am giving this story to you - and may you see and understand in it even more than I in due time. That will make me happy. So let’s move on, my friends!

* * *

It was a cool autumn evening and we were talking, having conveniently arranged ourselves on some bench in a park, - he decided to tell me of a case from his educational practice. He was working as a literature teacher in one of city schools by that time. Or, to be more precise, was earning additionally, as they say, - conducted preliminary courses in that subject for the purpose of preparation of pupils for receipt in city’s liberal arts college. He has been working on that subject for a third year and was considered one of the best “experts” in the field, however, as I remember, he himself has been constantly screwing up his face during the mention of this word. “I am not an expert, - he spoke often, - I am myself still walking the path of knowledge”. I remember as well how he was distressed from time to time to be compelled to prepare these “experts”, filling heads of pupils with appropriate and necessary material, even though he was filling them skillfully and with mutual benefit and pleasure for both parties.