The ascent felt magical. It was as if some kind of force was taking her to the very heavens, dissolving in their unearthly radiance, dissolving so much that she ceased to feel like herself, to share her own thoughts with the breath of the universe surrounding her. Even these thoughts gradually faded away, disappearing into the distant distance, leaving behind only a pitiful echo of the former essence, a quiet echo of the personality that once inhabited it, which for simplicity it called itself.But no, only here, at the very top, a belated understanding came to her of how illusory and vain human auto-perception is. No matter how much you peer into the mirror of being, you will see there not yourself, but only your own reflection, dim, distorted, far from the truth. The long monologue in your head is also not you, but only a meaningless echo of external signals migrating through Broca's zone, only through an oversight, taken by you for your own thoughts, insistently sounding between yo

Like every tiny agricultural town, Abanton was wide awake by six in the morning. Robocouriers scurried along the front gardens, delivering fresh pastries to the yards or rattling milk glass containers, the housewives drove the bird to the dance with loud voices, the children ran from the dog with a squeal, she answered them with joyful barking, somewhere mumbled, calling the unit, a milked cow, the usual reigned for a summer morning, a farce, under which it is so pleasant to get out of bed.Bernard managed to look at the forecast before leaving, so he first opened the side shutters of the greenhouse, and then hurried to the station. It's only about ten minutes to go here, but I had to hurry every time. Yes, it’s understandable, it’s stupid to go out in advance, but if you hesitate, then grab the unicycle and go until they start without you.For once, this time there was still plenty of time, so Bernard walked on foot. So it’s nice for health, and with which of the neighbors along the

Supply disruption was Roger Moore's main headache from the very beginning of the contract, and every single day he began with endless reconciliation checks.In the bowels of some "Eriksson" or "Ar-Rajha" in terms of such issues, he would have sat a whole department of "yellow tokens", arguing to move big data, while an adviser of his level would not even be interested in what and how they reduce there, I looked through the next report out of the corner of my eye, if they screwed up, heads will roll, and the whole tale.But this position was unlike any other. Where thousands of clerks would work on any petty issue in every normal corporation, hundreds of overseers and overseers over overseers, here Roger Moore had only himself and petaflops of calculated capacities, executive and soulless, at the disposal of Roger Moore. They were not mistaken, but they did not show any initiative, they always had to make any decisions themselves.And now, when the monitoring system threw out a banner

The radius of Guangzhou-Zhanjiang, for my taste, was the most inhospitable place on this planet. Two hundred million people, a complex patchwork of zones controlled by Yanguang and Tri-Trade, a wild amount of industrial abandonment from the time of the Great Experiment, the terrible ecology associated with this, and yes, orderly rows of towers of the first wave of development, twined to the waist with a communication network.The Slinkers called these two hundred kilometers along the coast "glade", so freely any representative of our respected profession felt here. Corporate freemen on the ruins of the former autonomous regions, the rampant level of corruption and banal slovenliness on the ground, the overall density of buildings plus the abundance of "gray", no-man's objects turned the "glade" into the Asian branch of Central Africa during the post-war Black Boom.For a slinker, there was always work here, and it wasn’t about money at all - perhaps only the magical Bohai or the Islan

The chirper chirped somewhere at the very edge of hearing, teasing with its inaccessibility. Like a mosquito in the night - it flutters its wings, squeaks disgustingly, and go and see it, a bloodsucker.Whoever was that kind person that glided over the crowns, and even in our remote places, he preferred to zealously protect his incognito. He flew his flight in lowlands and at low speed, as if suspecting the surrounding farms of the bad intention of catching the flyer and giving it publicity.And don't say it's wrong. Pozat spring arrived on the regiment of armored motorized hussars, the gentleman from the capital with a special order. Well, how, capital, not from the city of Moscow itself, but closer, from the regimental district that guards the Pipe. He arrived and arrived, only he has since been searched by city-towners. No like no. Yes, and motorized hussars have since worn out in appearance - who drank himself, who went without permission. They are not expected to return without t