Kitabı oku: «The World of Multicellular»

Oleg Seriy

Yazı tipi:

Translator Anna Belokonova

Editor Liudmila Seraya

Proofreader Avrora

Cover designer MaRiCaBo

ISBN 978-5-4493-3022-2

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

THE WORLD OF MULTICELLULAR
by MaRiCaBo without Oleg Seriy

published by PROEKT – EDEM with the help of Ridero

Translated by: Anna Belokonova

* * * * *

PROEKT – EDEM & Ridero Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Ridero and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard workof this author.

* * * * *

Content

Start!

Sphere 1. Cuckoo! I’m here!

Sphere 2. Space apple

Sphere 3. Bloody hell!

Sphere 4. In searchof the lost happiness

Sphere 5. I’m goingto get you

Sphere 6. Lucifer’s adventures

Start!

This is a brutal fairytale created by Brute who dwells in one of the ghettoes of the Universe. But you will not meet him in this incredible book. The place where he lives is unavailable for common people. Only gods can find him. A lot of unicellular pass Brute every day without even noticing him. To find him and to get to know him better – that is what Multicellular Gods can do. And they do it.

«When everyone start talking about peace and safety, that will be their end».

Michel Nostradamus

«What are you talking about, mate? On the UN website the words «Peace and Safety’ are written right on the home page, under the logo! (See www.un.org/en) Their days are numbered».

Oleg Seriy

«I wrote two and a half million symbols of reasonable or rather unreasonable text in order to create this book, this fairytale… There is one big advantage of fairytales —they present all the characters in their real appearance, without any masks and pretences. Our splendid world is also a fairytale».

Written by MaRiCaBo (not featuring Oleg Seriy).

The creatures die but the stories live forever. And this is one of those everlasting stories…

It commenced the day we were in session, though without mandates, in the Diamond Restaurant&Casino. By the way, they still haven’t paid me for advertising. In fact, everything was a bit different as one of us yet had a mandate, but let’s forget about it. My name was the Devil but the friends called me Lucifer. Very often they even didn’t have to invite me – I usedto come of my own accord. The idea is that I am an Angel of Light who has become a Satan. The idea is that I am already here, down on the Earth.

And there was her, sitting opposite me. They called her She-Wolf. That wasn’t her real name, actually; she just didn’t want me to mention it in this book. But deep inside she is a Lonely She-Wolf. And as this is a fairytale, she will also be presented in her real appearance. Like all the others. Without masks, without any farce and showing off. She made a very beautiful flower of napkins for me. Can you imagine? Of napkins. Lovely red and white napkins… But still it was so beautiful… That flower made me lose my head completely though the others thought that it was perfectly safe on its usual place. It was a new papier-mâché illusion. Everybody said that it was the most beautiful flower she had ever made before. Panther who was sitting next to us sprayed it with her perfume. What a lovely scent it was! She-Wolf just appeared from under the table. She had stopped doing her dirty business. I stopped trembling with orgasm too.

That evening and that night are now far backin the past but the flower still exists in my present. It hasn’t learned to travel through time. And it stayed here… And along with it stayed all those wonderful recollections. In the present. Here and now… Its maddening scent… The flower is lying now in front of me on the table… That day I told She-Wolf she would find herself in the World of Multicellular. And it happened so. It is much betterto be here and now than in the World of Unicellular that existed before. By the way, have I mentioned how I called the flower? Niversace! And it doesn’t matter that you will not find about it anymore in this foolish book. Did I say «foolish»? Well, in a good sense of the word, providing of course that «the good sense» is an appropriate expression here.

Sphere 1. Cuckoo! I’m here!

I am a dreamer and this world has been createdby my imagination. This world is mine… Its technical name is «The World – 2» but its real name is «The World of Multicellular». It is not exactly the world my readers expected to see after having read about the World of Unicellular. Or rather, it is completely different. It is the World of Multicellular in the World of Unicellular, that’s what it is!

«If you reckon that I close the window to prevent the chill, you are mistaken. I do it because I don’t want a Leprechaun to fly into… What? Leprechauns don’t fly? Are you sure?»

MaRiCaBo

This is the kindest book in the Universe. And my kindness is not easy to deserve. I congratulate you on this holiday – the Eternal Kingdom of Eden.

Yours sincerely, MaRiCaBo.

But let us continue. Usually people use a hairdryer for drying their hair. But I instead use my hair to dry a hairdryer. And indeed, I don’t have a hairdryer anymore. I even don’t exist anymore. I am a hairdryer myself. And I’m hair myself. Moreover, I’m a hologram, like you.

With such a thought, I leaned back on the God’s chair in order to settle myself more comfortably in front of the hall full of TV sets, to backwind the reality like a tape andto watch my life once again. First of all I pressed rewind button and went to have sex which is not at all worse than the usual one when you use a virtual mask. Anyway, I tried to convince myself in it. It was my last resort.

The fact is that the brain is utterly indifferent to whether it happens in real life or in virtual one. It doesn’t matter. All these things just happen and that’s enough. Naturally, if I had a girlfriend I would have slept with her, but she was not there. She left me and went for vacations. I wrote about her in another book…

And then I returned to my chair and pressed the «play» button. Play… As if it was a sort of game… Some people lose it and they don’t even notice their defeat… And I – I want to win this game!

So, let us go on.

«Shit, what can prevent the Doomsday? Maybe only Chip n’ Dale…»

Dasha Pavliuchenko

«By the way, Chip and Dale are great rescue rangers! If only people were kinder. If only they were like Chip and Dale, and that girl, Gadget, then people would stand a chance. Their world would be much better. I think they just didn’t have enough time. But we had».

Oleg Seriy

«Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital».

Oscar Wilde

«There are few people like me», – he said. As he told me, his name was Shaitan. Sometimes he appeared and sometimes he vanished. Nobody believed that he really existed but he was my friend. It is just that I didn’t believe it was his true name.

And she, who was standing in front of me with her mouth full of water, didn’t believe in him, too. She had slim arms and I had her. Now she was standing twisting her finger at her temple and muttering without opening her mouth that he was insane. She meant Shaitan, of course. I personally was completely all right. So why was she looking at me like that?..

Anyway, it was true. He had lost his grip long ago.

He was fed up with his life and he was planning to leave this world, or rather to fly away on the Hercolubus. That is what he used to tell me. Sometimes I felt thatI shared his dreams. But then Shaitan met her and everything changed. A very strong emotion developed inside him and he couldn’t keep it out of his mind. He also couldn’t forget her curly hair and her beautiful eyes, her slim shape, the shine of her lips and her clear voice which touched so deeply the chords of his pure soul. They went to the theatre together. Just once. And that was enough for him to stop being able to sleep, to eat, to drink without thinking of her. That night he wasn’t asleep either. He just couldn’t fall asleep. He got up, sat at the table and began to write. Those lines of him. He wasn’t eager to die anymore. He wanted to live. She was his Muse. It was her who gave him the desire to live again and he turned his back to Death. It would be wrong though to say that he didn’t like death anymore or ceased thinking about it. He just decided to accept it but to live without Death. And for living with the one he loved he had to turn his backto Death and then just to go ahead – into Life…

She picked up the phone at midnight because she didn’t master telepathy. She heard his merry voice.

Today is your Birthday as the day you were born has just begun and I wish you to celebrate it happily.

Well, it’s up to you…

And I also wish you to eat every day like you eat on your Birthday, during all this year and your whole life and even during your life after death…

But if I eat every day like I eat on my Birthday, I wouldn’t be able to force myself through the door.

But I didn’t say you should spend every single day like this. I just wish you could afford it…

And what are you going to give me as a Birthday present?

I promised not to tell you.

Tell me, please.

I’ll give you invisible balloons and inaudible crackers. Here you are… I have to go now…

I realized long ago that you and I are just holograms or systems. I tried to find the place where holograms didn’t exist anymore… Illusions – that was everything she had. And even that place, her Birthday and all the guests were mere projections. Only my present for her – invisible balloons and inaudible crackers – were not projections on her Birthday. And that is because my present was imaginary. Only imagination is not a hologram. I managed to find the place I was looking for so long. This place is my Imagination. It dwells inside my mind.

Then her Birthday was over and nobody seemedto understand what I had given her for a present. She was not very glad either, so I took my invisible presents and shuffled home listening to the chink of the sands and the rustle of the wind. Or rather, it was not me walking home but the one who calls himself Shaitan. That day he was in the limelight.

He walked home holding out his hand with imaginary balloons. They were three meters in diameter, round and so beautiful! How can people fail to notice them? «They are absolutely deprived of imagination», said Shaitan. He launched inaudible crackers. They didn’t let him get into a taxi with the balloons so we had to take an imaginary taxi to get home. Shaitan called it somehow in an odd manner… Let me remember… Ah yes, phaeton, that’s it. Indeed, his home was also imaginary. In fact, he was imagination himself. And imagination was him.

That day I dissolved, I vanished, I died. I didn’t exist anymore in the form I used to have. It had been inhabited by someone else. Someone so different from the one who used to occupy my body before. And the problem is that I had a suspicion I would make neither head nor tail of this…

But it was exciting! When I came home I realized that it was the best Birthday I had ever been to. And it turned out that I was just a bead. At first I wasn’t a bead but then one of the holograms was called so; I liked the word and everyone began to call me so. And I became a bead. When it happenedI got the opportunity to contemplate this world from another angle. And then I understood that all of you present here were not people. You are those who just dwell under these biophysiological covers, these dress-like bodies… You are just projections and that is the point. Get to know, wake up – that is the main idea. And the centreof all this is you. And at the same time you are not the most important thing. Both important and minor.

I wanted to cover myself with a blanket with ducklings making those quack-quack noises but I didn’t happen to have such a blanket, you see? It was my mere imagination. In fact, I didn’t want to sleep; I was able to penetrate the dreams when I fell asleep in reality. That is why I inclined my head and glanced down, on the pavement on the dark surface of which I discerned enormous flashing letters highlighted from beneath. It was a huge inscription articulated in a sinister voice: «Everyone, old and young, should make a script of an animal or the number of its name. And now the same message for the obtuse Unicellular! Everybody of you appreciate only those symbols which lie in your wallets or on your account. You should transfer your money and your non-cash funds to your personal accounts or to point-of-sale terminals, paying only for our goods and services marked with EAN-13 bar code». I saw real Hell… Don’t get me wrong, I saw a Beast. And the main place it inhabited was my own mind.

Then I lifted my head up to the sky and I saw Heavens. And when I glanced in front of me I found myself back on the Earth. And I saw the light…

I was waddling down the street when I heard an announcement. It resounded in the air: «Everyone who breathes and also everyone who is born and who lives, that is exists, should pay Tribute every day at 13.13 p.m. sharp. Approach the nearest cash dispenser, join the queue and put your hand to a horizontal slit in the cash dispenser; there you should deliver your blood sample. We give you blood for your well-being and happiness and you should pay back in your own coin. The interest for blood use will be charged and washed off you automatically. You just need to put your hand toa slit. These are our financial mechanisms».

This announcement was made every day but today it sounded something different, unusual… it sounded in a new fashion. And «financial mechanisms» were never mentioned before either. They used to speak only about «tribute» and «blood». Probably now that the World Governance was settled aliens didn’t want to conceal that we were their slaves anymore, I thought inwardly.

Every system has its own secret, its mystery. You can learn it in two ways – either to ask someone who knows it or to find out yourself using your agility, brain, wisdom, cunning or combination of these and other qualities. This way is more difficult but more interesting and the soul gets the most valuable experience for it. The first way is easier but less interesting. If you want to learn the secret from someone who possesses it you should offer them something they lack but it is not that easy; you should not only give it to them but you should first find out what they need. The soul, however, gets less experience for that. Shaitan was the one who knew the secret. I gave him what he wanted. I gave him myself. Not at once, of course. First I offered him my soul but he concluded it was too despicable and refused to take it. He even said he «wouldn’t wipe his ass with it». And gave a wild laugh. His laughter could be heard even on the third floor. Our neighbours thought that the Last Judgement had come and called for the police. Then I nodded silently and he occupied my body and nowI don’t even know when it is me or it is him, the Legion and the Devil itself, dwelling inside me… Besides, when the police arrivedI was already asleep.

In my dreams I tried to understand what I needed this secret for. And I came to the conclusion that the one who learned it would become a very rich person in all senses within that system…

Shaitan used to say that the person who had something in large amounts and shared it with others was less great than the one who almost didn’t have anything but shared it as well. This is a really great person. And that’s what only matters.

Imagine, – said Shaitan, – that you fetch yourself some tea. Let it be not tea but just a situation. They are having post-flight analysis. More exactly, post-fall analysis. Wait for the tea to cool down. Don’t drink it at once. Watch it or havea rest. And then come back and drink it…

I did everything according to the rules. Exactly as he had told me. I went for a walk in deserted and dull streets and then I came back and drank my tea. It was already cool.

– But their feelings didn’t cool down, the other way round, they became even more passionate, – went on Shaitan, – the feelings between Lucifer and Eve. That is how they were called before. And they didn’t have post-fall analysis because everything ran smoothly between them. It was Eve who was having blamestorming with her previous admirer. With Lucifer she had only post-flight analysis. And these are two completely different things, as they say in Odessa. Or rather they don’t.

How shall I explain it? We had mutual understanding with her. With She-Wolf… It is very difficult to achieve it… You should have super luckiness and super miracle. We had both.

Anyway, he stroke Eve on her light (like Sun light) head and said: «You can stay with me. But there is one rule – don’t bug me. If you are not going to bug me you will make me happy and I will make you happy as well». She-Wolf didn’t know whatto say so she kept silent. Who was he, that man?

My friend Shaitan used to explain to me that his real name was Lucifer. But in fact he was MaRiCaBo; the thing is that he formerly possessed Lucifer. God dwells in God, Man dwells in Man, and Angel dwells in Angel. MaRiCaBo was not an exception. But he didn’t dwell in Lucifer anymore. It was already his worldly life. The last embodiment before the deserved rest with her.

…Some time passed. No matter how much. She was sitting at the table with him. And there was also another man.

So, what are you engaged in?

I live.

Dad, he is a writer, – said She-Wolf.

I hate people answering for me. I wanted to kill him but then it occurred to me that if I had killed her fatherI would have probably spoiled relations with her mother. Even Shaitan whispered: «Not now». I started twisting a napkin in my hands.

– Really? And what do you write? – asked a short man of forty-five, a builder.

– Books, – snapped I. – Are you really such an idiot as people say you are? – Something malicious flashed in my eyes. And something benign at the same time.

– Darling, stop it. Family table is not a proper place for your sarcasms… He writes esoteric and spiritual books.

– Oh, does he? – asked the man pretending to be very interested in the conversation.

«No, fuck you, I’m joking!» – I thought inwardly.

He is also a businessman… – she stared at me. – Hey! Are you out of reality again? In your dreams?..

She dragged me hard out of a dust cloud and space curls and returned me back to the conversation.

But why don’t you think that we now see each other in our dreams? – asked Shaitan. And then he fell silent.

In medical terms it is called «paranoid schizophrenia» which goes along with «split personality», «multiplied personality» (more then one hundred soldiers) and especially «the Oedipus Complex». If Shaitan had had a personal doctor he would have probably set him this diagnosis from the first glance without even consulting various classifications like MKB —10, 9 or MeSH. The other way round, it was Shaitan who in his free time worked in a medical clinic where he set the fallen mankind the diagnosis «death». I could never understand what he needed job for as he had always been very rich. I don’t know where he got the money from; either he was a robber or a magician. I personally think it’s the same. When I used to ask him about that he either laughed loudly or said that medicine was just his hobby. As well as culture, sports, politics, religion, art and education… His hobbies made the whole list. Or rather his rats in the attic. They dwelled inside his mind, he knew all their habits and they marched when told to. They kept a low profile when he ordered them to be quiet. The voices… He always heard them…

Anyway, he was considered mad. But he just decided to drive this world crazy. He was a mad genius and his world was mad, too. The things he created in his imagination were everlasting. They were unfathomable… They will live till the new centuries come… But let’s get back to the point.

All this conversation at the table flew away from him. Shaitan was hardly interested in it from the very beginning. He never liked to get acquainted with relatives… Family ties… He was never able to understand them. So he assumed a detached look and stared in the mirror even without pretending to be interested in what the others were saying. Fly was beating against it. It was much more absorbing for him than that meaningless conversation, the table, the chairs, her stupid relatives and, strange as it may seem, even her. Don’t get me wrong, he was always interested in her. After that theatre trip… But now Fly attracted him more. It happened only once – that day. But it was enough. Nevertheless, Fly attracted our attention. She was beating hardly against the mirror struggling to find herself. And she succeeded.

Shaitan told me that at first he just thought Fly was showing off trying to show how beautiful she was. In other words, Shaitan concluded that Fly was a female. I thought of it fora moment. Then the next moment came. And I realized that men didn’t show off in front of the mirror like that. Then I watched her flying so gracefully that I became convinced that she was not justa female but a real woman. Well, I began to understand not only Shaitan’s words but his thoughts as well. «How strange», – I thought. Or these were Shaitan’s thoughts? I already got confused. Then I heard his voice again. But that time Shaitan was not articulating. I stopped chewing, too.

Meanwhile, Fly was so gracious. She danced beautifully. We watched her in order to distract ourselves from the dull conversation. She was a Night Fly; she had a beautiful female body but no one could see her except Shaitan and me. Then Fly madea couple of pirouettes and the mirror shrank, then dissolved like a wave and let Fly in.

At first Fly was shocked by what she saw. She realized how little she was in comparison with this great world. Besides, she realized that the mirror vanished which meant that there was no way back left. Before her flight Oracle had told her: «The bridges are burned. There is no escape». Though there was no real fire, something was burning inside Fly. And it was burning so desperately. Fly became insane of the present and then fell asleep. I fell asleep to… It was probably the moment when Shaitan possessed me. I lost control over my body completely. Besides, I was used to sleep at day time quite often. Not to be awake. I just had to pull myself together and stay awake as Jesus taught me. I was a bad Jesus’s follower. I was a betrayer. I slept with my eyes open.

Very soon I woke up. But this time I woke upin my dreams because we live our real miraculous life only when we are asleep. And when we fall asleep there, we wake up here, in a mosaic of mirrors. I know only that when I used to wake up on the Earth a part of my memory was wiped out. But when I opened my eyes here, in my dreams, and then closed them – my memory was all right…

When I woke up for the last time in order notto sleep any more and just to stay awake, I was completely unaware that it had been my dream. And the reason is that it hadn’t been my dream at all, it was reality instead. Reality! And it never occurred to me to brood on where I had been before I got there. However, I knew the place perfectly well.

In fact I appeared out of thin air in the street on the right side of which there was a small wooden building. I came nearer. In front of me there were plain wooden gates with the words «Café» on it. I entered the building. I just wanted to visit the toilet room but they let me know that I had to order something. To be honest, I found it out myself. They didn’t probably visit uncle john at all? Who knows? They do.

An aged woman willing to help me to make up my mind what I wanted to order approached me. There were no menus at all. But there was her and her head which invented everything I wanted. Her head was an excellent dreamer! Eventually we decided ona cutlet with potatoes and something else I had never tasted before. All this resembled an attractor so much. Then I wanted to ask for a bill. I was used to the fact that everything should be paid with money and, as Shaitan used to repeat, money was the easiest thing to pay. And I don’t know why but I decided to pay before the meal instead of afterwards. Besides, the surroundings were unfamiliar to me; I had never been there before. And not onlyI had absolutely no idea of where I was but I even didn’t know which planet it was. I took out my black wallet which I used to usein the Matrix before I came there, before I plunged into my dreams, that is into reality. And then I said: «Here you are». «We do not accept cash», – was the answer. And they didn’t take the money. Instead they stuffed 50 reddish hryvnias into my hand. A label was glued to the backsides of the banknotes. Not sewn or nailed down or painted but glued. The labels contained numbers of about 3 cm high and 1 cm wide. The numbers were looking right up to me. I loved money very much, even more than women. Banknotes are more affectionate. Money would never deceive you and never let you down; it wouldn’t give you a stab in the back. It is reliable and loyal friend, not mercantile and it is not a whore. And though it is rather difficult to have sex with money, it is your devoted ally; it will always give you a helping hand and advice. «Every bankruptcy will make you stronger, – explained Shaitan. – So don’t be afraid of anything and go ahead». I always followed his advice.

Well, I was told to go to a bank «just across the street» with the banknotes. I replied that if these were their money I needed to exchange it. So I exchanged my 50 blue hryvnias for their reddish ones and I even didn’t ask myself which of them was the genuine money. Everything surrounding me seemed genuine. Another woman approached me with the same reddish banknote but it fell on the floor and I didn’t pick it up.

The food was ready in no time but instead of eating I went to pay my bill. I already forgot my desire to visit the toilet room as I had been planning initially. The question worried me: «Can they possibly trust each other so much that they don’t mind getting the pay afterwards?» Brooding so, I went to find the answers for my questions in their bank.

I came out into the street and saw that the bank was indeed just across the road. But when I attempted to cross the road I appeared in a kind of a portal which moved me far away from the café and the bank. I found myself at the foot of a very wide staircase. It had shelves of real books by real authors for steps. And these were not rubbish but good books. I began to climb the stairs and with every step to the top I placed my feet on new books. These step-like shelves were organized so that the lateral sides of the books looked upwards. So, while climbing the stairs, I managed to read a lot of names and headlines. As for the books, they were pressed tight to each other like herrings in a can. The shelves represented best-sellers which had never been published and which remained just unrealized ideas. They could have become real best-sellers if their authors had been not only dreamers but ambitious people as well capable of finding the time and the moneyto publish them… There were the books by all the most famous writers of their world on this staircase (I could call it «magical» if only I didn’t consider magic to be sheer rubbish). Or they were rather the writers of our world… I got confused again. But there were mostly the names and he headlines I didn’t recognize. But that was no surprise – like Shaitan I was not a reader, I was a writer. And that is why I had read rather few books. I was mostly writing them. But maybe our world was the same thing as their world. It was probably the organic whole, the two parts of the same thing. Who knows? I know only that I was climbing up the stairs. I was quite sure that I had to go ahead. And with every pace I stepped on somebody’s best-seller, on the back of somebody’s beautiful book. They all were of different colour, thickness and design. Some of them were even pearly. And they had only one thing in common – they formed the stairs I was climbing. Strange as it may seem, I was not at al surprised that the books remained in a perfect state despite climatic conditions and the fact that so many people steeped on them. But probably, in that place there were no climatic conditions and the travellers’ shoes couldn’t harm this great work. Either there were different laws of nature there or that wonderful momentI was the first to climb that newly-built staircase… Anyway, I kept going and that was for sure. The staircase was so high and steep that the way up happened to be very difficult. I leaned on to the banisters and paused to have a rest for several times. It was very hard to go upstairs, to the Heavens. And the journey was very long. How come it hadn’t occurred to me to take a book with me so that I could read it while having a rest? The staircase was so wide. But maybe it was for the better that such an idea had never come to me because if that staircase had been magical indeed, the book would have probably carried me to an absolutely different world, away from that staircase and the bank and the café… and even from the idea to visit the toilet room which I had dropped long ago. Maybe I had started to read a book while sitting in the café but I just didn’t notice that… And it had probably carried me to the place where I was at the moment?! But why didn’t I want to do my doings anymore?! Had I already done it?!

I kept climbing the stairs. However, sometimes it seemed to me that it was not me but Shaitan. But for sure it was indeed me. Every time I stepped on a book I felt its incredible shine and smell and (can it be so?) I was reading it with my feet. Anyway, I was climbing… And finally, after some time (if time existed there) the staircase was over.