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Enclaves - 3
two years before the events described
enclave: Singapore
territory: Central Business District
territory: Mutabor Hall
. Inconspicuous waiters served drinks, the general manager of Pan Pacific spun around like a fishing junk, personally greeting the dear guests, and the ears of the guests were delighted by a soft melody, its echoes even reached the open terrace into which the salon smoothly transitioned.
It was rare windless weather for a seaside city, and even at the height of the thirtieth floor the air remained surprisingly calm.
Will you allow it?
All the chairs on the terrace were occupied, and only in the farthest corner, at a small table at which sat an old man with a shaved head in an old-fashioned black suit, was there a free place. It was he who was approached by a tall, red-haired woman who appeared in the salon without companions and had already managed to get rid of the Pan Pacific manager. She held a glass of cocktail in her hand.
I want to get some fresh air.
How can I object, madam? - The old man rose to his feet and politely bowed his head: - Hasim Banum, madam, at your service.
Lina Thompson. - The woman sank into a chair.
Very nice. - Banum sat down again. - Are you from America?
The question was asked with politeness appropriate to the occasion: the old man clearly did not feel the need to communicate, but his upbringing did not allow him to ignore the appearance of his neighbor.
Came here on business from the Seattle Enclave. And you?
From Europe,” Hasim answered briefly. - I am traveling.
There is a certain goal,” Banum did not hide. - I lead a solitary life, but once every few years I leave home, studying the changes that have taken place in the world.
Which ones exactly?
The most interesting.
Very vague. - The American raised a glass to her lips.
“I am a man of broad views,” the old man smiled.
Are you a scientist?
To some extent - yes. But an academic career does not appeal to me; I conduct research to satisfy my own curiosity. I am interested in observing the processes taking place in the world and wondering where they will lead us.
For what?
“I satisfy my curiosity,” the old man repeated.
“I’m jealous,” Thompson sighed.
Vadim Panov
Bonfires on altars
Two years before the events described
Enclave: Singapore
Territory: Central Business District
Territory: Mutabor Hall
The search for truth requires patience and care
The evening in the "European" salon of one of the best hotels in Singapore - "Pan Pacific" - proceeded according to the traditional, long-established scenario, pleasant for the guests, convenient for the hosts. About forty people gathered in the vast, high-ceilinged room, decorated with originals by Florentine masters. Men - mostly in tuxedos, women - mostly in dresses. Not necessarily in evening dresses, but dresses nonetheless. Unwritten rules did not recommend that hotel guests wear business suits to go to the salon. On the sofas and in the armchairs there were leisurely conversations, somewhere about business, somewhere about politics, somewhere about sensational theatrical productions. Inconspicuous waiters served drinks, the general manager of Pan Pacific spun around like a fishing junk, personally greeting the dear guests, and the ears of the guests were delighted by a soft melody, its echoes even reached the open terrace into which the salon smoothly transitioned.
. Inconspicuous waiters served drinks, the general manager of Pan Pacific spun around like a fishing junk, personally greeting the dear guests, and the ears of the guests were delighted by a soft melody, its echoes even reached the open terrace into which the salon smoothly transitioned.
It was rare windless weather for a seaside city, and even at the height of the thirtieth floor the air remained surprisingly calm.
Will you allow it?
All the chairs on the terrace were occupied, and only in the farthest corner, at a small table at which sat an old man with a shaved head in an old-fashioned black suit, was there a free place. It was he who was approached by a tall, red-haired woman who appeared in the salon without companions and had already managed to get rid of the Pan Pacific manager. She held a glass of cocktail in her hand.
I want to get some fresh air.
How can I object, madam? - The old man rose to his feet and politely bowed his head: - Hasim Banum, madam, at your service.
Lina Thompson. - The woman sank into a chair.
Very nice. - Banum sat down again. - Are you from America?
The question was asked with politeness appropriate to the occasion: the old man clearly did not feel the need to communicate, but his upbringing did not allow him to ignore the appearance of his neighbor.
Came here on business from the Seattle Enclave. And you?
From Europe,” Hasim answered briefly. - I am traveling.
There is a certain goal,” Banum did not hide. - I lead a solitary life, but once every few years I leave home, studying the changes that have taken place in the world.
Which ones exactly?
The most interesting.
Very vague. - The American raised a glass to her lips.
“I am a man of broad views,” the old man smiled.
Are you a scientist?
To some extent - yes. But an academic career does not appeal to me; I conduct research to satisfy my own curiosity. I am interested in observing the processes taking place in the world and wondering where they will lead us.
For what?
“I satisfy my curiosity,” the old man repeated.
“I’m jealous,” Thompson sighed. - Nowadays, few people can afford to live the way they want. Most have things to do and obligations.
I don’t agree about a few,” Banum immediately responded. - As far as I understand, you belong to the upper strata of society?
Ordinary people do not appear in this salon.
The phrase sounded with slight arrogance: the American expressed surprise at her interlocutor’s doubts.
In this case, you have seen many people who can afford to live the way they want. Unfortunately, they don’t want so much: luxury, entertainment, drugs...
Has this never happened in your life?
Once upon a time I did not deny myself pleasures,” the old man admitted.
Then why do you blame others?
In no case! - Banum put his hands in front of him, palms forward, and Lina, for the first time since the beginning of the conversation, noticed that his hands were hidden by thin black gloves. - Youth is given only once, it must be lived widely, especially when there is an opportunity. But the question arises: what next? I have seen forty-year-old and even fifty-year-old “boys” who continue to thoughtlessly squander their inherited fortunes.
“It happens,” Thompson confirmed.
But for the most part, the “golden youth” who have had a day off cheerfully follow in the footsteps of their parents, occupying their offices and armchairs.
What's bad about it? - The American woman put the empty glass on the table - it was immediately picked up by the waiter - and looked at the old man in surprise. - I inherited my father’s business and am now the chairman of the board of directors of the corporation. Albeit a small corporation, but...
Who did you want to be in your youth? Chairman of the board of directors?
Another cocktail, madam?
Banum, who prefers dry red wine, took a small sip of wine, continuing to look questioningly at his interlocutor.
This is exactly what I meant when I spoke about the obligations that life imposes on us,” Lina answered firmly. - I had to become the head of the corporation.
Who do they owe it to?
Father, children... - Thompson drawled. - In the end, those people who work for us... work for me.
Why do you think they are doing well under your leadership?
Because I know how to do business!
So what did you dream of becoming in your youth?
None of your business!
Lina turned away, accepted the glass of cocktail from the waiter’s hands and took a long sip.
The wind gradually grew stronger, made its way under her clothes, the guests left the terrace, and she wanted to move to the vacant chair, away from the obnoxious old man. But education, education...
Life in China is different from the way of life accepted in the Islamic Union or the Emirate of Omar,” Banum said quietly. - In India or the countries of Catholic Voodoo it flows completely differently than in the Enclaves. But everywhere, I emphasize - everywhere, a system close to a caste is gradually being formed. Stories about how an ambitious young man managed to rise to the highest levels of society look true only in television series. Receive a good education- long and expensive, as a result the vast majority of people remain below, at the level determined by their primitive knowledge.
Would you like every person on Earth to own a personal multinational corporation? - Thompson asked sarcastically.
“I’m an observer,” Banum shrugged. - I don’t want anything: neither peace for everyone, nor war. Don't be offended, Lina, but I don't care about climbers or hard workers. I shared my observations in the belief that you might find them interesting. I made a mistake?
No,” the American muttered. - I admit honestly: when I went out onto the terrace, I wanted to relax after a busy day, but... the conversation carried me away.
Thank you. - The old man looked thoughtfully at the rapidly creeping clouds. - Don’t consider me a retrograde, but compared to the current state of affairs, the classical noble system gave society much more advantages. The eldest son inherited the title, and the other children had to achieve everything on their own. Some got married successfully, some joined the army, some looked for themselves in other areas. I have a theory that the scientific flowering that occurred in the nineteenth century was born of precisely this circumstance: many young, educated and ambitious people sought themselves outside their circles. They did not have the opportunity to sit in their parents' chair, and therefore had to work. Including fulfilling youthful dreams.
One of your observations?
One of my conclusions, Lina, one of my conclusions. The son of a scientist will not necessarily become a genius; the daughter of a businessman is not always good at business. A society divided into castes, deprived of an influx of fresh blood, necessarily stops in its movement. The son of a steeplejack becomes a steeplejack, the son of a shopkeeper becomes a shopkeeper, the son of a scavenger becomes a scavenger. People do what they should, not realizing that they should do what they feel like doing.
He didn't tell her one bad word, but Thompson felt insulted.
“I don’t understand business?!”
However, her upbringing did not allow the American to flare up. She finished her cocktail and asked coldly:
What are you looking for in Singapore?
“As far as I know, interesting events will soon happen in this Enclave,” Banum answered kindly.
The wind had not yet had time to carry away his words when the sky over night Singapore was illuminated by the glow of a powerful explosion. It sounded far beyond the Central Business District, the sound did not reach the terrace, but the flash reminded the dear guests of Pan Pacific about some aspects Everyday life Enclaves.
“Everyone knows there will be a riot here,” Thompson sighed.
Are you here because you're worried about your investment?
Are you ready to watch?
Yes,” the old man smiled.
So which of us is worse?
Banum shook his head.
Lina, did I accuse you of something? We both are who we are. Let me treat you to a cocktail and let's take a look at the city together. Something tells me that the explosion we just witnessed is not the last.
Subsequently, analyzing the events that led to the unprecedented event - the capture of the Singapore branch of Mutabor, military experts especially emphasized two circumstances. Firstly, the large-scale clashes that broke out between the Malays and the Chinese and attracted significant SBA forces. Usually the templars themselves defended their territories, but Mutabor had the status of a transnational corporation. The Service was obliged to provide assistance, but due to the unrest, SBA units arrived significantly late, when the building was already burning. Secondly, the military nodded at the extremely unfortunate location of the branch. Mutabor always kept to himself, controlling quite large areas in each Enclave, but in Singapore, acutely suffering from a shortage of land, he limited himself to just one quarter, located just at the southern border of the Malay and Chinese territories. And the fact that he was affected by the riots did not surprise anyone.
However, none of the experts, at least officially, admitted that the seizure of the temple complex was planned and carried out on high level. Mutabor Hall was attacked not by crowds of rioters - hide and seek would have dealt with the rioters without much difficulty - but by professionals. The Mutabor house-quarter was a single structure - they were attacked from four sides simultaneously. The walls were broken through by heavy bulldozers, then the soldiers burst in, followed by a crowd of rioters. The few hide-and-seek tactics, whose fighting qualities had received only rave reviews around the world, turned out to be powerless against the massive invasion. They managed to detain the attackers, allowing the templars to launch a mechanism of self-destruction of the most important objects, and then organized a breakthrough, took people to corporate territory, leaving the burning branch at the mercy of the rioters.
Like in Ali Baba's cave, right?
Ty was short, thin and... experienced. Very experienced. He grew up on the streets of Bangkok, became a bandit, served in a special army unit, and again returned to dangerous neighborhoods, managing to go from a street killer to the leader of a fairly large organization. He saw a lot of blood, knew his strength - considerable strength, but he was scared to death of the old man. He was clearly afraid, unconsciously demonstrating this with gestures, facial expressions, and the timbre of his voice. And his joke sounded forced.
“It’s an unfortunate comparison,” Banum replied, carefully examining the treasures laid out around him. - If you believe the fairy tales, the robbers’ collection consisted of whole things, but you are offering the remains... more precisely, the remains.
Several broken computers (Ty assured that the hard drives were not damaged), five or six tissue samples in plastic containers with incomprehensible markings, several laboratory journals that Banum leafed through without much interest, several flasks with liquids that the old man did not fail to sniff - here , in fact, everything that we managed to take out from the Mutabor branch.
The templars had a plan in case of invasion,” Tai muttered. - They burned and blew up most premises. My guys carried these items out, risking their lives.
This is what you get paid for.
“Not you,” Ty wanted to say, but bit his tongue.
Yes, it was not the old man who paid him, but the corporation. The cunning people from Pharma 1 decided to take advantage of the brewing rebellion in Singapore to get to the secrets of Mutabor - a common case of industrial espionage for the Enclaves. The privateers hired Ty's gang, paid generously for their services, but... Banum was the first to study the collected trophies. The gloomy old man found Tai two days ago and made an offer that he could not refuse. Ty still could not understand how Banum found out about his role in the case, how he was able to find him, who had taken refuge in a safe place before the operation, and how he was alone! - managed to kill five bodyguards. But Ty wasn't looking for answers. He was experienced and knew when to give in. He accepted the old man’s offer, laid out the loot for him, and representatives of “Pharma 1”... representatives of “Pharma 1” will arrive at “Ali Baba’s cave” in an hour. They will take what is left.
What it is? - Banum picked up two burnt sheets of paper and slowly read the text printed in Latin: “Abba marda Avva. Kuar..."
“We found it in one of the premises,” the bandit hastily explained. “Everything was burning there, but a grenade flew through the window, and the blast wave carried the leaves into the corridor. I noticed and took it.
Well done, Ty.
Thank you.
The bandit was so polite only in his distant youth.
I'll take them. - Banum carefully placed the leaves in a hard plastic folder. - And I will pay you... twenty thousand yuan.
“Thank you,” Tai bowed again, not counting on any reward – he would have stayed alive. And he clarified: - Will you take only them?
After all, you need to show the privateers something...
Anyone who is even superficially familiar with the principles of Mutabor knows that the templars do not store important information in ordinary computers,” Banum chuckled. - Laboratory samples don’t interest me either; unlike Pharma 1, I’m not attracted to industrial secrets. I want to know what Mutabor is, not what he can do.
Ty shouldn't have asked this question, but he couldn't help himself. The old man’s words sounded painfully unexpectedly.
“Aren’t you interested in industrial secrets?”
Banum paused, either choosing his words, or considering whether to send the bandit who asked the question away, and then, smiling, with the air of a man who had found the original answer, he said:
I'm writing a book, my friend, I'm writing a book...
...A person must believe.
Not to be confident in the evidence collected in the treatises of learned men, but to believe.
Knowledge is rational, its element is the material world, subject to complex but explainable laws, which anyone who has shown some diligence can master. Knowledge is a proven sequence of actions and cold calculation. And faith gives hope. Including the unrealizable. Knowledge will indicate your place on the round Earth, and faith will allow you to merge with the entire Universe. Knowledge clicks off time with indifferent clock hands, and faith opens the way to eternity. Knowledge is based on irrefutable facts, flowing from the pages of textbooks and scientific journals. Faith hides in the soul, and the only proof of its strength is your strength.
Perspective and hope, a grain of sand and the Universe, a second and eternity, facts and conviction, mind and soul. Give up hope - and gray everyday life will swallow you up, turn you into a gear, into a stupid golem, whose whole life is work and play. Forget about reason - and you will lose your foundation, the world will fade, narrowing to the size of dogmas.
A person must know.
A person cannot help but believe.
A man splits an atom, builds kilometer-long skyscrapers, flies to the moon and... And reads the lines written thousands of years before his birth, the lines that contain the key to his soul. Lines in which the wisdom of his Tradition is concentrated.
The path of any teaching that has captured the souls of millions is the same. First is the Word, book or tradition that can reach people's hearts. Ideas that are destined to become petrified dogmas, but are still seething with vitality and strength. Then - a long formation. Not necessarily only with a sword, not always only with words. Man is a predator, and a predator can be convinced only by demonstrating strength. Strength of spirit and strength of steel. Any Tradition must pass the test of strength, otherwise it will wither, die, like a vine deprived of water, disappear, leaving nothing behind, not even a memory. After all, words, even those that touched the heart, are just words...
But now the difficulties are overcome, the enemies are defeated, and a period of prosperity begins, an era of greatness and laurel wreaths. Millions of adherents do not question the fundamental postulates; they believe sincerely, with all their souls, and are ready to die for the sake of the words that have merged with their hearts. The Guardians jealously guard the peace of the Tradition, trampling down weeds without hesitation, defending their right to be the ultimate Truth. How long the heyday will last depends on many factors. Instead of heroes, cunning people come, greatness and pride are replaced by narcissism, rituals become routine, habits, their deep meaning is lost, and when something new appears - daring, seething and strong, it seems attractive. After all, the new has not yet petrified, it is still alive...
People are mistaken in believing that the test of Tradition's strength is only passed during its formation. People are weak, and the shiny toys of modern times will always seem more attractive to them than the ancient, “limiting personality” rules.
That is why I study with such interest the phenomenon of naikism - a doctrine generated by the “brilliant toys of our time.” A word that came from the material world. An attempt to create a religion based on facts and evidence.
Can the teaching of the machinists be regarded as a Tradition or, given the short time that has passed since the appearance of the Numbers of Righteousness, as an emerging Tradition?
A detailed analysis of the “Numbers of Righteousness” shows that Emmanuel Maria Neik has well studied the experience of the formation of existing Traditions and created a book capable of laying the foundations of a full-fledged teaching, very, very interesting to modern man. A teaching that has become a product of the material world, and therefore understandable to everyone. People know what a computer, network, software is, they easily link it all into the global concept of “Digital”, look around, see how deeply it has penetrated into the familiar world, and ask the question: “Where is the place of Man?” Nake gives the answer: in a merger. Nake gives the answer: we have changed the world and should not be afraid to rule it. Shiny toys acquire sacred power and reach out to souls. It is not the Word that underlies Naikism, but cold iron, the creation of human hands, a tool.
The material world offers to believe in what can only be used. Deify a shovel or a microscope. Does this seem strange to you? In fact, this is natural, because the material world is unable to offer anything else.
The entire history of mankind is viewed by Neikists as a necessary, but dark, terrifying period. The millennia during which people were approaching the creation of the first computer, in the interpretation of the Poetess, represent a time of unconditional barbarism. Homo sapiens in the full sense of the word, according to the Neukists, he appeared only in the Age of Digital. But his fate will also be short; very soon he will have to give way to a new person, who, apparently, will be called Homo arifmeticus. Naikists agree that it was man who created the Digital Age, but there is a grain of guile in the respect they show to the people of the past. It reveals the condescension of infantile youths who sincerely hope to do without parental advice. By deifying means of communication, Naikists refuse to use the experience of the intangible world accumulated over millennia, refuse the Word, and declare obscurantists and liars everyone whose actions cannot be calculated on a computer. And this is not a flaw, as critics of “Numbers” hastened to say, it is a systemic error.
This is the difference between the material world of Numbers and the world of Words.
For Naikists, the past is a collection of reliable and not so reliable facts, supported by archaeological research. This is a mass of information. Past for normal person- these are feelings. He may forget what day of the week he first fell in love, but he will never forget his emotions. He will not say who exactly planned the Battle of Kursk, but he remembers it and is proud of his ancestors. Denial of the past - not denigration, not selective use in one's own interests, but denial - has not helped anyone yet.
Undoubtedly, the main postulate of the “Numbers of Righteousness” will seem attractive to modern people: the opportunity to rise thanks to intelligence and abilities. The poetess assures that any neikist is capable of achieving the status of God.
Is he deceiving? Not really. Just uses strong words to mean simple things.
Having carefully studied the history of computer wars, I discovered examples of strange, inexplicable from a rational point of view, successful attacks on the most secure networks of our time. I heard stories about breakers who were able to insert “floats” into balalaikas and accelerate them to maximum speeds. About scrappers who know how to transfer their consciousness to the network.
God status?
But then what does “sindin” have to do with it, the injection of which is a prerequisite for the “transfer of consciousness”? Why do we need the famous drug of the hackers? And why did Emmanuelle Maria Neik write her book after the appearance of “sindin”, and not before? Is it because the real Digital Age began not with the first computer, but with the “Sindin”? By the way, it is still unknown whether Mutabor really developed it. As we know, the templars stubbornly deny these laurels.
By declaring that any person is capable of reaching the level of God and presenting as evidence a group of scrappers hacked by “Sindin”, the Naikists are not only exposing themselves to ridicule, but are also making another systemic mistake.
If God can be created, if his level can be reached, then this is no longer a religion. This is a computer game.
Naikism is a product of the material world, overflowing with systemic errors. Any self-respecting machinist has read Numbers of Righteousness, but it has not become the Bible for everyone. The Poetess's book pleasantly tickles the pride of machinists, assuring them of their own importance, if not chosenness, but nothing more. People feel the Word, the real Word, with their souls, and do not feel anything sacred in the cold iron, and therefore many machinists who honor the “Numbers of Righteousness” go to church on Sundays or lay out a prayer rug five times a day. Nevertheless, the Poetess’s ideas have an attractive force, they are in demand modern world, and I will be surprised if sooner or later people don’t come who want to form a full-fledged organization on their basis. Perhaps someone will appear who will try to rid Naikism of systemic errors, and then it will be possible to talk about the beginning of the formation of a new Tradition.
And that's when I'll have to rewrite this chapter.
Urzak's book
Panov Vadim
Bonfires on altars
two years before the events described
enclave: Singapore
territory: Central Business District
territory: Mutabor Hall
the search for truth requires patience and care
The evening in the "European" salon of one of the best hotels in Singapore - "Pan Pacific" - proceeded according to the traditional, long-established scenario, pleasant for the guests, convenient for the hosts. About forty people gathered in the vast, high-ceilinged room, decorated with originals by Florentine masters. Men are mostly in tuxedos, women are mostly in dresses. Not necessarily in evening dresses, but dresses nonetheless. Unwritten rules did not recommend that hotel guests wear business suits to go to the salon. On the sofas and in the armchairs there were leisurely conversations, somewhere about business, somewhere about politics, somewhere about sensational theatrical productions. Inconspicuous waiters served drinks, the general manager of Pan Pacific spun around like a fishing junk, personally greeting the dear guests, and the ears of the guests were delighted by a soft melody, its echoes even reached the open terrace into which the salon smoothly transitioned.
. Inconspicuous waiters served drinks, the general manager of Pan Pacific spun around like a fishing junk, personally greeting the dear guests, and the ears of the guests were delighted by a soft melody, its echoes even reached the open terrace into which the salon smoothly transitioned.
-Will you allow it?
Will you allow it?
- I want to get some fresh air.
- How can I object, madam? “The old man rose to his feet and politely bowed his head: “Hasim Banum, madam, at your service.”
– Lina Thompson. – The woman sank into a chair.
- Very nice. – Banum sat down again. - Are you from America?
Very nice. - Banum sat down again. - Are you from America?
– Came on business from the Seattle Enclave. And you?
“From Europe,” Hasim answered briefly. - I am traveling.
- Just?
“There is a definite goal,” Banum did not hide. – I lead a solitary life, but once every few years I leave home, studying the changes that have taken place in the world.
– Which ones exactly?
– The most interesting.
-Very vague. – The American raised a glass to her lips.
“I am a broad-minded man,” the old man smiled.
-Are you a scientist?
– To some extent, yes. But an academic career does not appeal to me; I conduct research to satisfy my own curiosity. I am interested in observing the processes taking place in the world and wondering where they will lead us.
- For what?
“I’m satisfying my curiosity,” the old man repeated.
“I’m jealous,” Thompson sighed. – Nowadays, few people can afford to live the way they want. Most have things to do and obligations.
“I don’t agree about a few,” Banum responded immediately. – As far as I understand, you belong to the upper strata of society?
– Ordinary people don’t appear in this salon.
The phrase sounded with slight arrogance: the American expressed surprise at her interlocutor’s doubts.
– In this case, you have seen a lot of people who can afford to live the way they want. Unfortunately, they don’t want so much: luxury, entertainment, drugs...
– Didn’t this happen in your life?
“Once upon a time I did not deny myself pleasures,” the old man admitted.
-Then why do you blame others?
- In no case! “Banum put his hands in front of him, palms forward, and Lina, for the first time since the beginning of the conversation, noticed that his hands were hidden by thin black gloves. – Youth is given only once, it must be lived widely, especially when there is an opportunity. But the question arises: what next? I have seen forty-year-old and even fifty-year-old “boys” who continue to thoughtlessly squander their inherited fortunes.
“It happens,” Thompson confirmed.
“But for the most part, the “golden youth” who have had a day off cheerfully follow in the footsteps of their parents, occupying their offices and armchairs.
- What's bad about it? “The American woman put the empty glass on the table—it was immediately picked up by the waiter—and looked at the old man in surprise. – I inherited my father’s business and am now the chairman of the board of directors of the corporation. Albeit a small corporation, but...
Bonfires on altars Vadim Panov
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Title: Bonfires on the altars
About the book “Fires on Altars” Vadim Panov
The world of the Enclaves is rational to the core: computers and information Technology permeated all spheres of life, the successes of genetic engineering reached unprecedented and even frightening heights, and ultra-high-speed transport systems radically changed the concept of distance. However, it was in this world that a battle broke out for the possession of the manuscript of one of the last representatives of the ancient Tradition, whose very existence completely refuted all the laws of materialism. The templars of Mutabor and the highest hierarchs of Catholic Voodoo, the Chinese and Europeans, the most experienced network breakers and simply bandits came together in a fierce battle. Possession of a mysterious book promised victory in the eternal battle for numbers that were not digitized even in the era of omnipotence. human souls. And in a world saturated with virtuality, real blood began to flow again.
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