The saturated colors and riot of emotions of the surrounding world envelop the gaze and soul of the twenty-year-old guy, who is strolling unhurriedly through the summer park. He shades his eyes, looking at the sun, smiles, and enjoys life. He looks around. Nearby, children play carefree, running and laughing, eating ice cream. A girl looks up and cries bitterly; a red balloon has flown off into the blue sky. It’s already high up, and the girl stays below, watching her airy friend disappear from sight.

Multicolored toys are scattered across the large and noisy children’s playground. Parents don’t spare expense buying interesting things for their children. Couples in love walk past. The guys joke playfully, the girls giggle sweetly in response, feeling shy. Some families have come out for a walk together. The weather is pleasant.

Birds sing loudly among the vibrant green leaves. The singers are rarely seen, but they’re perfectly heard. One wants to stop, close one’s eyes, and just listen. Bright, luscious flowerbeds generously decorate the park. Butterflies of unseen beauty flutter their weightless wings above the fragrant flowers. Sweet nectar gives them vitality. They are given little time and prefer to die a sweet death.

Fountains generously water the lawns, with crystal drops sparkling in the sun. If one looks closely, one can see a rainbow. The blueness of the sky and the white clouds reflect in the puddles that remain after a small rain a couple of hours ago. The rustle of the leaves from the fresh wind soothes the listener.

So much happiness and joy surround him. It’s pure pleasure when you know how to see, appreciate, and enjoy. The guy walks with a light step through the delightful place. He examines the area with relish. Everything is beautiful. He enjoys the weather, the view, and life. He breathes in the fresh, ozone-infused air fully. Looking at the sky, he thinks, “Just how wonderful this world is.”

A hit! His whole life flashes before his eyes. He falls. Everything goes dark. The world vanishes. All the bright colors instantly fade. Darkness. Pitch black. The birds still sing, the steps of passersby are heard, the leaves rustle as before, and the children continue to laugh. But the guy doesn’t see any of it. He’s been blind since childhood.

The magnificent summer day is ruined by the billboard. They put it up this morning near the cafe, in the very place where he usually walks, enjoying the beauty. He adjusts his black glasses. He fumbles for his folding cane on the warm, slightly damp asphalt. He gets up and cautiously continues his walk in the darkness. He taps out every step, moving away from the fleeting happiness that seemed so real.

Oliver often does this. No, not fall. He loves to travel, turning the long-familiar darkness into his own fairytale world. The places he imagines are much brighter and more colorful than real places. This is the huge advantage of fantasy. Blindness expands the boundaries of possibility, giving him the limitless power to create a personal universe. Absolutely everything is subservient here. He is the creator and owner of the worlds he makes. While his body remains among people, Oliver’s imagination creates a new society or simply erases humanity altogether.

When he feels sad and lonely and wants to see and talk to someone, the right person appears, unconnected to the real world, where he no longer has good acquaintances, apart from the social worker named Dolores. The woman comes once a month to deliver his government aid.

The rest of the time, he socializes with other people for whom concepts like height, weight, skin color, age, social status, and position in society do not exist. When he creates these companions, he pays special attention to their personalities. Not a single one is repeated.

Oliver sees them just as ordinary people see their friends. When someone experiences a situation in life, the right person, the one they want to see right now, surfaces in their memory. They call them, text them, or go to visit them to share their worries and emotions, or simply to vent.

Oliver acts differently. He just needs to think about which of his friends he wants to see at the moment. The necessary image instantly appears before the boy. Most often, it’s his best friend, Mike. He spends the majority of his time and situations with Mike.

Oliver travels in his worlds alone. Afterward, he discusses his experiences with his friends. Sometimes, he wants to share strong emotions right where they are born, and then he takes Mike along. Mike is fun and comfortable to be with, and most importantly, he can be trusted. Oliver cannot be completely honest with the others.

Oli creates the images, and the personalities fill themselves in. That makes it more interesting. Gradually, they get to know each other better. There are arguments when their personalities or views clash or are too similar. Sometimes the friends quarrel among themselves. Oli separates the parties and smooths over the conflicts.

Afterward, of course, they reconcile, but everything changes. Within the group, it’s determined who is whose best friend. A person is never ideal for everyone at once. There is always one willing to tolerate what they dislike about another, who is in turn willing to tolerate the specifics of their personality. That’s how best friends like Oliver and Mike are made. In any situation, Mike is always the first to arrive. And now, in the darkness after a walk in the summer park, his best friend appears. He always helps Oliver stand up, offering a strong, supportive hand at any time. Then they go for a walk together.

He didn’t call Mike because he didn’t want to distract him from his personal affairs. Yes, he has things to do, and a private life that shouldn’t be intruded upon. We don’t create people in our imagination; we choose from those who live there originally. Mike helps him recreate the lost world of the sunny park. He returns and moves the billboard to another location so no one else stumbles over it.

They head to the shooting range; it’s nearby. They shoot at targets with crossbows, which is more interesting than simple rifles. Oliver hits all the targets arranged on the shelf. The toys, soldiers, and balloons are lined up in rows. Mike misses once. They both know it’s deliberate, but his best friend gets to taste victory, which is important for lifting his mood.

The park is the only place the boy remembers from real life. He walked there with his parents before the night of the accident that took his family, a normal life, and his sight. Oli remembers nothing else. He was only three years old then. He hadn’t managed to see anything or go anywhere yet.

He comes here once a year, on the day of the accident. He doesn’t remember the date. His heart tells him when the time comes. His heart, filled to the brim with blood, clenches in his chest. It becomes no bigger than a cherry. It then sharply expands, bursts, splashing the pain of loss throughout his entire body. These are the sensations Oli experiences on that special day.

They eat cotton candy, just like when they were kids. They stroll along the quiet pond where boys row their girlfriends in pleasure boats, and they feed the pigeons and ducks. Judging by the smell, the birds have different bread now. That baguette smelled more like a sweet bun, but this one is ordinary. He wouldn’t be surprised if the local swans and ducks don’t eat it.

On this day, he wants most of all to imagine his parents, but their faces were not preserved in his childhood memory. No matter how hard he tries to find them in the past, he can’t. No matter how much he struggles, it’s useless. He clearly remembers their voices and the lullaby they sang before bedtime. That song is the only thing that helps him fall asleep.

The moment of the accident intrudes into his final memories. Understanding nothing, he looks at the headlights approaching from the darkness. He can only see his parents’ hair and shoulders. Their hands hold together. He sits in the back seat. He is securely fastened in the car seat that miraculously saved his life.

His parents turn to their son to say goodbye, knowing that everything will end badly. The oncoming car blinds the boy with its headlights, crashing into them at tremendous speed, like an arrow piercing a target. The hood crumples, the windshield shatters and flies into the car’s interior in sharp sprays, hitting his open little eyes. The bright light prevented him from seeing his parents’ faces one last time, and the darkness took away his ability to see the world they lived in. Oliver remained alone in the back seat, in the darkness of a new world.

As he got older, when he grew tired of living without seeing the existing world, he began to create a new one visible only to him. Now, he lives in his own universe, in his own worlds. He likes it. He hasn’t resigned himself; rather, he enjoys it. There is a degree of sadness, of course. That’s inevitable. But here, he lives a full life, one he doesn’t have in the real world, like most of the planet’s population. It’s still a matter of debate who is unlucky. Being blind doesn’t mean you don’t see. He sees more than others can ever see. One could envy his gift.

The quieting sounds of the city that houses the park, his last memory, betray the arrival of evening. It is the only place from the real world that he visits in his imagination. And now, it is time to return to his favorite world.

Of all the worlds and places he’s created, Oliver likes the cloud bridge over the ocean the most. Oli doesn’t exactly know what clouds, the ocean, or a bridge look like. Mike tells him everything. He knows everything about real life, even more than those who live in it. Thanks to his best friend, the creation of worlds became possible. You can’t minimize Mike’s role in Oliver’s life; he is why Oli is alive.

They return to the bridge together. They brought cotton candy. It’s indistinguishable from the clouds, only sweet. Few people have seen an oceanic calm. And the ocean itself doesn’t show itself to everyone. Mike told him what a mirror-calm is, and now the bridge, the clouds, and Mike are reflected in the mirror, but Oli doesn’t see his own reflection. He still hasn’t figured out what he looks like. To the touch, he can’t believe it, or doesn’t want to believe he has such an appearance. There’s something wrong with it. Mike won’t say. It doesn’t matter. What difference does it make what you look like if you’re surrounded by perfect beauty? If you become part of it, it will soak into your soul, and you’ll be beautiful.

Beautiful creatures, the Prophonids, live in Oliver’s ocean. They have perfectly smooth skin, like a baby’s. The boy knows for sure—he remembers his three-year-old skin to the touch. Their eyes are so pleasant. Michael says they have kind eyes. Oli doesn’t know what that means; to him, they’re pleasant. So deep, they seem like the entrance to a world he didn’t create. Sometimes, the feeling creeps up that the creator of the world is looking at him through those eyes.

His best friend helped him create giants. Michael called them whales. The names from the real world have no place here; now they are the Dibusai. Long, calm, and weightless. They often rest on the clouds, and when they fall asleep, they sometimes drop back into the ocean. The splashes scatter across the whole area, hitting the birds flying past.

The birds here are interesting. To the touch, they’re like the wind, just as delicate and soft. When they shake off the water that has landed on their wings, it creates a rainbow rain. Michael helped Oli remember what a rainbow looks like. It’s made from the flying droplets, like in a park. Their bodies are like wispy clouds, fluid, and refined. He painted them purple, a color he picked from the rainbow.

All the colors in the worlds appeared thanks to the memories of a rainbow. When he paints in one color and then changes his mind, the colors blend. The rainbow becomes more and more colorful. The shades depend on the time of day. During the day they are lighter, and at night, they aren’t darker, but richer. Now the sky is gradually becoming a rich blue, deep and mysterious. To slightly lighten the night, Mike purposely sprinkles white paint.

They sit on the bridge and think. Oli remembers today’s time in the park. Mike is always thinking about something, but he doesn’t say what. When Oliver asks, he answers, “About the moment.” And that’s right. What’s the point of thinking about anything else if you only have this moment? He has a wise friend. Without an age, he understands a lot, if not everything. How does he manage it?

Even best friends should have secrets, unless the truth threatens the life of the one from whom it’s being hidden. And in that case, the decision must be made by the one whose life depends on the truth. It’s better to die from the truth than to live a whole life in a lie. There shouldn’t be any more secrets. Mike’s silence is alarming. Oli wants to know, but why think about something bad afterward?

“Why are you two so sad?” their friend Mia joins the boys.

“Thinking,” Oli answers thoughtfully, handing over the cotton candy they specifically brought for her.

“And about what?” Mia sits down between them, enjoying the airy sweetness.

“About the moment,” Mike replies. No one is surprised or expects different words from him.

“What else?” Mia looks at Oli. She knows for sure he’s thinking about something else.

“About past moments,” the boy sighs heavily, remembering life before the accident, after it, and during it. He looks at his friends’ reflection in the ocean. Mia is there too.

“Why do you think about them? Is there something good for you there?” the girl is glowing with interest.

“There was good,” Oliver smiles, lightly and sadly.

“If something good happens, it will always be good, regardless of time and place.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Oli agrees. “It will always be good.”

“And what is it?” the girl’s interest only increases with every word.

“The thing that gave me this world instead of a grim reality.”

“Yes, you’re right, that’s good. Wait. Why do you talk as if there’s another world?” the girl seizes on his words.

“Oli’s tired. His tongue and thoughts are getting tangled,” Mike interjects, signaling to the boy that Mia doesn’t know about the other worlds and it’s better to keep it that way.

“No, he said it clearly,” the girl insistently searches for proof in Oliver’s eyes, but the boy is looking into the ocean.

“Mike’s right. I’m tired today,” Oli sighs heavily. “I’m talking nonsense. This is the only world we have.” He had noticed before that they never take Mia with them to other places, but he never thought about why.

“So, only this world exists? There’s nothing else?” the girl is disappointed and upset.

“It seems so,” Oli confirms in a sad voice. He becomes upset, imagining what life would be like if only the real world existed—the one in which he has nothing and no one.

“Maybe we can look for one?” the determined Mia suggests, not losing hope.

“You want to look?” Oli asks again. The boys exchange glances. Mike gives a subtle nod.

“I do! Right now!” the girl jumps up with joy. She steps onto the bridge. The clouds puff up under her feet.

“If you want it that badly, let’s go look,” Oli agrees with a smile, getting to his feet.

“Well, let’s go looking,” Mike reluctantly stands up.

“Which way do we fly?” Mia looks around, choosing the best direction.

“Your idea, you choose where we all go,” Mike offers the girl the freedom of choice with a smile.

“Then,” Mia spins around in place with an outstretched hand. She points at random. “That way!”

“Alright,” the boys exchange glances and shrug. “Nothing we can do,” Mike sighs heavily, realizing that everything will change now, and not just for Mia.

“Forward! To the search for other worlds!” the girl abruptly leaps from the spot. The cloud bridge ripples from her careless movement.

“Let’s catch up, or we won’t find her later. Our Mia is quick,” Oli hurries after her. Mike flies after them.

Cloud waves disperse across the bridge. It remains unharmed. It has withstood things real bridges could only dream of. At the beginning of his new life, Oliver suffered from severe migraines. All the worlds shuddered and rattled, ready to collapse. The bridge’s supports have not succumbed to the winds of change or the waves of obstacles. No amount of stress has been able to destroy them.

The bridge will stand as long as the boy is strong in spirit. As long as Oli doesn’t give up and surrender, everything else is nonsense. But if the cloud bridge falls, the worlds will crumble, and everything around will vanish. Then, there will only be darkness again. Mike tries not to tell his friend everything, so as not to destabilize the supports. It’s good that Oli doesn’t ask. He probably senses something is being hidden from him, something it’s better not to know.

Together, they catch up to Mia. They fly through the luscious celestial space, passing by the airborne islands made of a substance everyone here calls Altensa. It’s light and durable. These islands appeared in the first days when the boy decided he wouldn’t give up. Altensa consists of strong willpower. Wavy paryems twine around the islands like vines and stretch upwards, trying to reach the secrets of the universe. This is Oli’s vital interest.

Paryems fuel the airborne islands, maintaining their interest in life. The islands are inhabited by small creatures called Millitau. The tenderness the boy felt from his parents lives on in the fuzzy little creatures, each the size of a small ball. There are hundreds of them here.

Through Oli’s small hands, he felt the warmth, tenderness, and affection of his parents. The creatures love to play with the boy’s friends. They laugh, run, and jump around them. And right now, the Millitau leap onto the twining paryem stems, happy about the friends flying past. All the tenderness goes to the brave travelers.

The girl wants to play with the little ones; she often flies over to them. But what lies in the far corners of the world is so interesting. There’ll always be time to play. Interest wins. They fly past. The girl only waves from afar. The fluffballs practically jump after them. They fear they might jump and not be caught. The fear of being unreciprocated keeps them on the islands.

Mia can’t resist the temptation. For a second, she flies towards the little ones. Warm, soft balls cover the girl. They rejoice, laugh, and lick her face and hands. It’s ticklish and pleasant. Mike and Oli also allow themselves a moment of joy. The balls react the same way to Mike.

With Oli, everything is different. They gently press against him, stroking with closed eyes, hugging him with their entire bodies. He tries not to appear on the islands where tenderness envelops him. If he relaxes, tenderness fills him completely. He doesn’t need to go anywhere, doesn’t think about anything. Everything vanishes; only tenderness remains. He needs to fly away from here as quickly as possible. Oli is the first to emerge from the cozy embraces. The friends fly away, laughing happily and longing for the affection.

The wind of freedom picks them up. It often flies here, not allowing the world to wither. This is its breath. On the air current, they reach a high mountain. Unbreakable self-belief. Mia is envious. Oli’s mountain is enormous, but hers isn’t even a hill—just a small pile of stones.

The girl often flies here, sits nearby, and feels self-confidence and support. She feels safe. Oliver gladly shares. He has tried to share several times, but the material doesn’t take root. Her foundation is weak. Mia doesn’t believe in herself. The faith others have in her doesn’t last long.

Oli thinks he sees something. He looks closer. A cave has appeared in the mountain. It wasn’t there before. Mike thinks it’s doubt and despair that broke through there this afternoon when the world briefly went out during the fall. The cave of doubts never misses an opportunity to destroy mountains of confidence. The main thing is to immediately seal the weak spot. Oli decides to take a look. Mike tries to dissuade him, but not very convincingly. The boy goes alone. Everyone must deal with their doubts themselves. Only the one in whom they appear can destroy them.

The friends stay waiting outside. The girl takes advantage of the moment. She sits down by the mountain, leaning her back against it. Mike sits next to her. They’re waiting anyway, and confidence is never superfluous. Well, sometimes it is. But the amount they can access is far from overconfidence.

Oliver enters the cave. A chilling darkness reigns here, seeping into the soul. He walks slowly, constantly stumbling, trying not to fall. So far, he manages. The sensations here are the same as the moment he hit the shield in the park. He grows severely upset, reliving the harsh blow of reality to his face and the fall onto the hard ground.

The asphalt caused pain, but not maliciously. To comfort the boy, it became fresh after the rain and warm from the summer sun. Reality often pushes people and throws them to the ground. Most people unfairly view the asphalt as an enemy. Selflessly, it catches and supports us until we can stand. Yes, it hurts. It hurts the asphalt too. The force of action equals the force of reaction. Nevertheless, it catches everyone who falls. One shouldn’t immediately perceive as evil that which causes pain. Often, it’s done for our own good.

In the dark, he occasionally touches the walls. Doubts leave burns. He pulls his hands away so the doubts don’t seep into him. It’s painful, frightening, and unpleasant. He continues walking. To get rid of doubts, he must reach their very essence. Only by changing the perception of the essence can one be freed from false fears and anxieties.

A red light appears ahead. He walks toward it. This light is much softer than the sharp white light that blinded him in the car back then. He passes through a narrow opening toward the source. A white lamp glows red inside a glass cylinder, which is filled with a red, transparent liquid.

He opens the cylinder’s lid. Dipping his hand, he pulls the lamp out of the thick liquid. The light, which was previously muffled, breaks free, cutting his eyes with the harsh beams of oncoming headlights. A scorching pain. The blinding gradually fades. He sees his parents’ backs, just like before the accident. He reaches out to them. They turn around. The light of oncoming headlights.

A forceful impact throws the boy against the wall. The glass cylinder falls, shattering against the sharp stone floor. The red liquid spreads across the stones. The lamp falls from the boy’s hands and breaks. Sparks rise into the air, illuminating the space.

The entire floor is covered in red. Pieces of metal and shards lie everywhere. An unknown force presses the motionless boy against the wall. Gloomy thoughts permeate Oli. He has no strength to tear himself away. He feels like a child in the backseat. He grows cold, sad, and empty inside. The sparks go out. He doesn’t want to try to move anymore.

He remembers the park, all the colors of life, life itself in the faces and movements of people. He doesn’t have this in reality. The billboard reminded him of this, plunging his consciousness into darkness. That’s when dark doubts about the reality of his life arose. Is he even real in the created space? The cave appeared when the questions began to sound more and more frequent and loud. This is the essence of the doubts.

There is a real world where there is no place for Oli. There is another world, created by him, where it is peaceful, comfortable, and has everything he needs. There are friends he doesn’t have in the world everyone considers real. For him, this one seems more real, which means the other one is made up. There can only be one reality. And the doubts, born from a nonexistent world, are themselves unreal.

These fears and doubts don’t exist. The cave is unreal. Sparks ignite, returning to the reassembling lamp, submerging into the healed cylinder. All the red liquid once again fills the vessel, gradually becoming transparent. The pure light dissipates and gently forces Oliver out of the cave, filling the void with a bedrock of certainty.

Oliver is outside. The cave fully closes up. The surface evens out, becoming as it was before. The mountain is whole again. Mike deftly stands up, helping Mia to her feet. They greet their friend with smiles. They don’t ask about anything. It’s personal. The cave vanishes. The boy handled it.

They can move on. They return to the course Mia set. The mountain, a beacon, illuminates their path forward, radiating a light brighter than the sun. That’s how Mike describes it. He has seen the sun. There is nothing like it in this world. Here, it is either bright or saturated. Why have a luminous disk when they have light in their souls? The sky brightens. The soul feels lighter. The air becomes clearer.

Enormous jaidams float across the sky toward them. They are Oli’s cherished dreams, hidden from view beneath blocks of black ice. Ordinary people would perceive them as something frightening, dark, and menacing. For the boy, black is more familiar than other colors, so he concealed his most intimate secrets in something close to his sight.

He alone knows what is inside. Originally, they were caskets holding a small boy’s wishes. As he aged, the wishes grew more numerous. He grew up and dreamed. The small boxes turned into large chests. Not a single wish ever came true. The containers became covered in the eternal ice of disappointment.

He barely remembers what is inside. He doesn’t even want to recall it. He thinks it’s pointless. Mike often tries to persuade him to break the ice and free the wishes. The boy is waiting for them to become so heavy that they will collapse into the bottomless ocean or the abyss on the other side of the world, disappearing forever, ceasing to torment him with their unreality.

He is probably just afraid that his hidden dreams might come true. One of them is to see again. That is the one the boy fears most of all. This world could disappear. Only the noisy, hostile reality he has so successfully hidden from here for most of his life would remain. He watches the jaidams as they pass. He looks down. The water is far away. The blocks will keep reminding him of themselves for a long time yet. It’s pointless to wait for them to fall.

They fly onward. At first, Mia led them all on a quest for other places, but now she and Mike obediently follow Oli as observers of his search for himself. Or perhaps it’s not a search, but rather an awakening. He sees everything he had always closed his eyes to. Some things, like the jaidams, the islands, and the mountain of self-belief, appeared here on their own.

The strip in the sky also appeared on its own. A bright white spot on the left darkens closer to the right side, fading into the unknown, where it ends in a small black dot. About a third of the strip is before them. No one knows exactly what it is. Mike called it the Time Strip. He didn’t explain. He just said that when the time comes, Oli will find out for himself. They cannot move along the strip; it moves past them.

Oli floats through the air above the strip, while Mike and Mia dive under it. A ringing hum travels along the line in both directions. An air vortex swirls Mike’s best friends and tosses them into a space where the sky is covered in green wool, and the ground beneath them is carpeted with blue, wavy undulations covered in sharp furrows.

The sky is connected to the earth by twisted pipes tilted in different directions. A color-shifting liquid moves through them from bottom to top. Lifefin circulates through the dimensions like blood, connecting and nourishing the worlds. It is produced by imagination. Oliver often uses his imagination so that the worlds may live. It is an essential condition for their existence. If he stops fantasizing, all consciousness will again be filled with darkness and emptiness, as it was before the transformation.

Mike accidentally brushes against one pipe. Lifefin pours out like a waterfall. The walls of the world’s vessels only seem strong. In reality, they are thinner than capillaries. The section of the sky at the top base stops receiving the vital fantasies. Mike, drenched in lifefin, clamps the pipe from below to prevent losing the rest of what flows through this channel.

Oliver’s imagination kicks into full gear. The old, damaged pipe gradually disappears, and a new, still empty one appears in its place. A sphere filled with water materializes from the air before them, bursts, and releases air balloons in all the colors of the rainbow. As the balloons rise, they turn into colored birds and fly away freely with delighted cries.

They created and freed them. What could be better? Anyone would envy this. Especially Mia, who feels created and trapped in this world. The pipe fills up again with the changing lifefin. It is still dark, too saturated with fantasy. It will brighten when the birds scatter across the world. Now they fly more carefully. Mike is almost dry. The remaining lifefin runs down him into the deep blue furrows, transforming into young paryems stretching upwards.

New fantasies always create an interest in life. The stubborn plants twine around the important pipes, protecting them from damage. How did Oli not think of this before? Mike flies past all the pipes, wringing out his clothes and watering the bases with the nourishing lifefin for the paryems. The plants strengthen and protect almost all the pipes. There isn’t enough spilled liquid for the rest. They leave this task for next time.

This part of the world is something like a technical area, a transit point. And beyond it lie the other parts of the world they created. The green sky and the blue earth meet in one place, forming a narrow corridor. They can only pass through one at a time. The problem is that the unpredictable corridor can throw them into any of the parts. They cannot influence this in any way. It’s a long flight to the other, controllable, tunnel. That would take a lot of time, and Mia has even less patience than she has perseverance. They unanimously decide to go through here.

Oliver flies first, Mia immediately behind him, and Mike brings up the rear. To avoid getting lost, they hold onto the legs of the person flying in front. The more the corridor narrows, the faster they move. They gradually accelerate. The walls get closer. Their shoulders nearly touch the tunnel. The narrowing continues, leaving no free space.

Mia shouts something to Oliver. At this speed, the words turn into an incomprehensible sound of a single pitch. The girl’s grip loosens. Oli no longer feels his friend’s presence. He must not look back, or the direction of movement will change sharply, then he’ll be torn to pieces, and parts of his consciousness will be sent in every direction. That’s how they lost Doydish, one of their imaginary friends. Now he is with them and not with them; he is nowhere and everywhere. It’s better not to repeat that. Reuniting afterward is impossible.

The tunnel becomes the diameter of a finger. At the end of the path, Oli shoots out like an arrow at the speed of light. Consciousness returns when his body takes its usual form. Finally, he is on solid ground made of red crystals. Mike calls them rubies, and Oli calls them raidums. By the way, where are Mike and Mia? They came here for Mia. All he can do is hope they haven’t been torn apart. It’s pointless to return to the tunnel. The others could be anywhere. There is a chance they will meet in some other part of the world.

Something has changed here since the last visit. Now, when you step on the Raydoms, they crumble into small, sparkling yellow pebbles. Oly hasn’t seen these in his worlds yet. It’s a shame Mike isn’t around; he’d know what they’re called. The world’s creator doesn’t stay upset for long. The yellow stone is now called a Kaidum. Strange. There are many yellow tracks on the red field. Someone has been here without him. The footprints are clearly alien. All the images Oly has created are roughly his build. But these tracks are about three times bigger than usual.

There’s no sky here. The entire space is thickly filled with red and yellow luminescence from the stones. It’s something like a glowing, impenetrable fog. He’ll have to walk blindly. To the left, he hears the crunch of stones. Judging by the number of crushed Raydoms, the one who left those tracks is over there.

Oly tries to tread more carefully, crumbling as few stones as possible. Still, he gives himself away. The footsteps on the left draw closer. The boy runs toward the transition to the next section. And the unknown figure accelerates, breaking into a run. The footsteps grow louder. From the red glow, something several times his size flies out at him and knocks him down. Raydoms crush beneath their bodies, digging into their imaginary flesh.

Oly instantly thinks the giant will kill him. Sharp green shards fly over them—another new sight for the boy. His consciousness is saved by the stranger. They don’t rush to get up. They want to be sure there won’t be any more flying, deadly particles. It seems quiet.

They stand up, brushing off the yellow pebbles. The wounds immediately close. A man of impressive size stands before Oly. His body is metal-heavy, made of opaque yellow stones. Something unknown, strange, and unfamiliar hides in the behemoth’s face. If the giant saved him instead of killing him, they can talk.

“Hello, stranger,” Oly says, masking a slight fear.

“Hello, Oliver,” the humble giant replies.

“You know my name?” the boy asks, surprised.

“Of course, I do.”

“How?”

“I live in your world, so I’m a part of your essence.”

“You live in my essence?”

“I live in all people.”

“Why are you so huge?”

“I occupy a larger part of the soul than all the other facets of character.”

“Who are you?” Oly’s curiosity gets the better of him.

“Usually, they call me Avarice, but I prefer Alt,” the new acquaintance answers in a low voice, smiling modestly.

“Alright, I’ll call you Alt.”

“Thank you,” the giant seems a little embarrassed, pleased by the boy’s welcoming gesture.

“So, what kind of essence are you?” Oliver cautiously clarifies, watching him closely.

“I generate in people the desire to possess treasures, wealth, to create them, and to take them from others. Because of me, people argue and even kill each other,” Alt says with quiet regret, lowering his eyes in shame for his innate nature.

“You bring evil and harm people?” Oly’s brow furrows at the unexpected, unpleasant news.

“It appears so,” the giant sighs heavily and sadly.

“Why do you do it?”

“I don’t know; it just sort of happens.”

“If you generate evil, then why did you save me from the green shards?”

“They’re emeralds,” Alt explains hesitantly.

“A beautiful name,” Oly muses. “I guess I’ll keep it. Thank you for saving me.”

“You’re welcome,” the giant smiles again at the boy’s kindness.

“So why didn’t you let me die?” Oly repeats the question.

“If you die, I’ll vanish too, along with this entire world,” Alt surveys the glowing expanse with a melancholy gaze.

“Only because of that?”

“No. I don’t like doing bad things. I love doing good. A second essence lives within me. Everyone calls her Generosity.”

“So are you this kind to everyone?”

“No. In most people, I become evil myself, swelling up to the size of skyscrapers.”

“Then why didn’t you turn evil in me?” Oliver asks, realizing he’s an exception to the general rule.

“I don’t need to with you,” Alt smiles easily.

“How so?” Oly wonders, trying to understand.

“You’re not greedy or materialistic at all. You don’t desire wealth, especially at the expense of others, hurting them. If the owner of the essence is kind and not avaricious, then I don’t need to be that way, either.”

“Now I get it. And when did you appear? I hadn’t seen you before or created an image.”

“I’m like the floating islands of Altensa and the mountains of self-belief. I am a given, existing regardless of other conditions.”

“But why are you alive?” Oly peers into the opaque, heavy body.

“Avarice is born and grows in a person along with them. The older the person is, the greater the avarice within them. I was very small and unnoticeable before. You haven’t been to this part of the world in a while; I’ve had time to grow.”

“Okay, Alt. What do you even do here?” the boy looks around the new, imagined place in his consciousness.

“Nothing. I idle,” the modest, good-natured behemoth sighs sadly.

“Completely?”

“With you, I’m unemployed. No matter how much I whisper to you about riches, you don’t want to possess them. And if a person doesn’t want wealth, Avarice simply waits for its moment.”

“And what if that moment never comes?”

“It always comes,” Alt convinces him confidently.

“Will it come for me, too?”

“Possibly,” the giant watches closely, as if trying to see the boy’s future. “I think so.”

“How is that possible if I don’t need anything? I don’t want anything like that.”

“You might want it not for yourself, but for someone else.”

“For whom?” Oly thinks, realizing he only has imaginary friends.

“You’ll understand yourself when a person appears in your life for whom you’d agree to give everything you have and even more. And if the necessary wealth isn’t there, then it will be my turn to seek out the needed treasures.”

“And you’ll find them?” Oly is openly surprised by the giant’s certainty.

“I will find them. If the person is worth it,” Alt speaks about such things with absolute seriousness.

“And how will you know if they are or not?” the boy has no such knowledge at all. Every new sentence is a revelation.

“If you desire wealth, it won’t be for no reason—I know that for sure,” the giant smiles with an experienced look.

“We’ll see. Right now, I don’t need anything. I need to find my friend Mike and my friend Mia,” Oly anxiously recalls losing his friends. “Do you know where they are?”

“How much are you willing to pay for the information?” Alt asks seriously.

“What do you mean? How would I pay you?”

“Sorry, I was joking,” the behemoth apologizes with a smile. “That’s our special kind of humor—us greed-types.”

“Ah, I understand,” Oly smiles reservedly in return.

“I’ll guide you to the neighboring section. It’s not far from here,” Alt looks through the glowing fog. “Your friends might be there,” the giant offers.

“Great, I’d be grateful for the help,” hope awakens in Oly alongside his worries for his friends.

“I’m already grateful to you,” Alt smiles sincerely.

“For what?” the boy asks, completely clueless.

“For still allowing me to live in your world.”

“I don’t mind,” Oly replies generously. “Live as long as you want.”

“And also for talking to me. It’s lonely here. And I have no one to talk to.”

“Of course, no problem. If you want, come to the Cloud Bridge; we’re usually there with friends.”

“You’re suggesting I be friends with you?” Alt is pleasantly surprised, not believing his ears.

“Yes, why not? As I see it, you’re a good person, and you always need good friends. So, will you come once we find my friends?”

“I’ll definitely come!” the giant exclaims happily.

“And do you know where the Cloud Bridge is?” Oliver clarifies, noting his new acquaintance’s exceptional modesty.

“I know. But will it hold me?” Alt wonders, doubting because of his size and weight. He looks at the boy sadly.

“In that section, everyone weighs exactly as much as they want. If you wish, you can fly. And when you get tired of it, you can lie down on the ocean floor. And the bridge will hold anything.”

“That’s interesting,” the giant’s smile returns to his face, and his eyes light up with joy.

“Well, that’s great! Then, come visit.”

“Good, I’ll definitely come,” Alt smiles dreamily.

“Is it far to the entrance to the next section?”

“We’re close now. Be careful!” the giant warns anxiously.

“Why? What’s dangerous there?”

“Anger lives there,” Alt whispers, looking around.

“Who’s that?” the boy asks, puzzled.

“You haven’t met him. That guy destroys everything good in a person.”

“Is that even possible?” Oly asks, astonished.

“When a person allows anger to penetrate their essence, darkness envelops and consumes the bright soul. Then, only anger and rage remain there.”

“That’s unsettling,” the boy looks ahead worriedly.

“That’s good. You’d better be careful,” Alt warns him with complete seriousness.

“I’ll try. Thanks for the advice.”

“I hope you manage to leave him untainted.”

“I hope so, too,” Oly smiles uncertainly.

“When you reach the bridge, let me know, alright?” the giant asks, looking forward to meeting his new friends again.

“How should I tell you?”

“Just think of precious stones. And I’ll appear immediately.”

“And what are they—precious stones?” Oly repeats the new name, unfamiliar with it.

“They’re what you have under your feet,” Alt laughs. “In the world of people, they’re highly valued. Sometimes more highly than the people themselves,” he adds wistfully.

“Okay,” Oly tries to remember what the stones under his feet look like. “Can I ask one more question?”

“Of course, ask away,” Alt tries to be good-natured and open in their conversation.

“What are you made of? What kind of stones are these?”

“Not stones—they’re gold nuggets,” the giant smiles.

“So that’s what gold is,” the boy looks closer so he’ll know for the future. “I’ve heard of it, but I didn’t know what it looked like.”

“Gold comes in different forms. They make beautiful, shiny jewelry and various objects from it. Sometimes people say, ‘golden hands,’ so don’t mix it up—those aren’t hands made of gold, but hands so skillful that you can do everything as if you were creating gold jewelry. And you won’t be able to do much with hands of gold, believe me,” Alt laughs, showing his large golden hands. He speaks like a simple boy, not a giant. It’s hard to feel negatively toward him.

“Alright, I believe you,” Oly smiles. “I’ll try not to mix them up.”

“We’re here,” the giant leads the boy to a black faceted crystal about halfway in size between Alt and Oly.

“And what do I do now?” Oly peers into the black crystal.

“When you’re ready, just put your hand on it,” Alt reaches out his golden hand but doesn’t touch the crystal.

“Thanks for the help, Alt. I’ll wait for you at the bridge,” Oly reminds him with a smile.

“I’ll await the invitation,” the giant is already happy about the long-anticipated opportunity.

“It’s a deal. Don’t get lonely here,” Oly says with a farewell smile, reaching out his hand to the black crystal.

“I won’t,” Alt hides his sadness, but the smile still comes out mournful.

The body cracks and crumbles into thousands of transparent shards at the touch of the portal. Consciousness rushes through the crystal’s shimmering dark edges into another part of the world, a creation of the imagination. An unknown force slams the guy against the shimmering walls, tosses him to the ceiling, throws him to the floor, and drags him along. This kind of entry is alarming. He tries to compose himself and straighten out. He’s being thrown about so violently that his consciousness can’t recover from the jolting.

The wall of black crystal cracks like a body and crumbles into a multitude of fragments. The pain of the cuts burns his strained consciousness. Oli has often experienced this pain. After hundreds of prickly needles and sharp blades in childhood, cuts became a rarity in adulthood. One or two a week from carelessness. And now, they are thousands of wounds to the soul.

“Well, hello there, my dear friend,” a gloomy figure of black-gray clouds greets him flatteringly. The better part of the face is covered by a foggy bandage. Only black, glossy eyes are visible. There is not a drop of light in them, only a reflection of Oli.

“I'm not staying long,” the guy warns sternly.

“As you say, long-awaited guest, as you say,” the soft voice and smooth movements of such a person are even more unsettling. He needs to hurry, to quickly look around for signs of Mike and Mia.

“Where are my friends?” Oli asks firmly.

“You came for them?” Anger turns his gaze toward the ceiling.

“Yes,” the guy says directly, not at all in the mood for long conversations.

“And are they truly your friends?” the hidden figure returns its gaze to Oliver’s eyes.

“What kind of question is that? They’re my best friends,” the guy is indignant at such words.

“Best friends make the best betrayers,” Anger eyes him askance.

“Don’t talk about my friends like that!” Oli tries to interrupt confidently.

“Why not? They’re not here beside you. Tell me, where are they right now?” Anger passes a foggy hand over the guy’s shoulder.

“They’re waiting for me somewhere in my world,” Oliver answers confidently, genuinely believing it.

“Are you absolutely sure about that?” Anger specifies in a whisper.

“Yes!” Oli shrugs the unpleasant person’s hand from his shoulder.

“Well, you can think that. Then who is this?” Anger makes a circular motion with three fingers in front of Oli. A vision appears in the foggy circle. Mia and Mike are having fun in an unfamiliar place. “See? You’re looking for them, but they’re fine without you. They don’t want you to find them. Don’t you feel angry at them?” the mysterious figure whispers, moving closer.

“No. They know I’ll find them, so they aren’t worried. Why should they get upset and worry if they’re sure everything will be fine.”

“And are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” a note of doubt appears in his voice after what he has seen.

“Interesting. Will your friends wait for you?” Anger removes the vision, turning away.

“Enough!” Oli stops him angrily, walking past Anger. A trail of dark fog drags behind him. This area is similar to the cave where the doubts were. Only here is unrestricted dark space. Among the gloomy fog, black stones hang right in the air; filthy water, more like liquid tar or black blood, seeps from them. It drips and vanishes into the foggy floor.

“Are you looking for them?” Oli remains silent, trying not to fall for the unpleasant interlocutor’s tricks. “Didn’t you see? They’re in a bright, pleasant place where they’re so good without you. And you’re wandering around here, all gloomy, just like this place,” Anger inspects the tarry walls. “If you want, I can tell you where they are.”

“Tell me!” Oli insists.

“On one condition,” he holds up his index finger.

“What condition?” the guy is ready to do a lot for his friends. He can only hope no one knows he’s ready to do anything for them.

“You will punish them for their betrayal. You will punish them cruelly,” Anger clenches both fists.

“No!” the guy refuses sharply and confidently.

“Suit yourself. I won’t tell you otherwise,” Anger turns away, smirking. A black stone throne, entwined with gloomy fog, appears where Oli entered. The dark figure seats himself on the throne. No one has appointed him as the leader here, but the guy doesn’t even argue so as not to get angry or waste time, which is already short.

“And you don’t have to!” For a second, Oli considers agreeing. Lying to find his friends. But a bad, repulsive feeling settles in his soul. He doesn’t agree. He’d rather search himself for as long as it takes than stain his conscience and honor. And, especially, be cruel to his friends. If his search is difficult, it doesn’t mean everyone else has to be miserable.

“Do you think they’re worth it?” Anger whispers suspiciously.

“Yes! Friends are the most precious thing I have! Although, how would you know?” the guy looks at him with pity and sympathy.

“Yes, I don’t have any,” Anger admits calmly. “But I'm fine this way. And I don’t have to make them up. And your friends aren’t even real,” the gloomy interlocutor looks at the guy seeking a way out with sarcasm.

“They are real!” Oli feels the tar of anger trying to penetrate his soul. He tries to calm down and not succumb to the influence of the strong emotion.

“Oh really? Weren’t you the one who created them?”

“I only invited them,” the guy answers more calmly.

“And don’t they live in an imaginary world?”

“No,” Oli believes in the reality of his world, although he understands that he created it himself.

“And isn’t this world a creation of your imagination?”

“It is,” Oli admits quietly.

“There. And aren’t those who live in an imaginary world imaginary?”

“I live in this world too, so I'm imaginary too,” the guy presents a compelling argument. “We’re perfect friends.”

“Fine, you got yourself out of that one. One-nil,” Anger acknowledges Oli’s successful defense.

“I'm not getting out of anything. It’s the truth.”

“But did you know that your best friend lies to you?”

“No, Mike never lies to me!” the guy defends his friend’s honor confidently.

“Then he withholds information.”

“Then it’s necessary. He tells me exactly as much as I need to know.” Oli accelerates his search for an exit deep within the gloomy place. Anger’s throne floats behind his back.

“Oh, so it’s ‘necessary’ not to tell you that he’s alive?”

“What do you mean?” the guy stops searching, turning around.

“Mike is a human being, just like you. He doesn’t differ much from you.”

“That can’t be,” these words create serious doubts in the guy.

“How can it not be?” Anger smirks. “You’re alive, and your consciousness is here, in the imaginary world, and he’s alive, with his consciousness also in your world. It’s all logical.”

“That cannot be!”

“Really? Then where does he disappear to all the time he’s not with you?”

“He has his own things to do.”

“What kind of things could an imaginary person have?”

“Personal ones,” Oli thinks even harder. Is it possible that Mike isn’t in this world all the time? He seems like a living person. He knows a lot about the real world, he always has answers to all the questions. He is often silent, constantly thinking about something. No, it can’t be.

“It absolutely can be!” Anger whispers in a thin voice.

“And what of it?” Oli tries to dismiss the doubts about their friendship.

“Can you trust someone who hides such an important truth from you?”

“Yes,” Oli answers calmly, returning to his search for an exit.

“And what about Mia? Do you think she’s honest with you?!”

“What are you talking about?” Oli probes the walls, hoping to find a hidden door. His hands turn black from the tar.

“Do you think she decided to search for other worlds out of simple curiosity?”

“Yes, she was always interested in new things, even though everything was always hidden from her.”

“And didn’t you consider that maybe she wants to find another world to escape from you? To abandon the one who holds her so dear.”

“How do you know she holds me so dear?”

“Did you forget? I'm a part of you. And we, your parts, communicate with each other. So I asked Sympathy while you were walking in the park.”

“She couldn’t have told you anything, that’s personal!”

“Blackmail works wonders, my friend. Even in the subconscious.”

“You’re not my friend. Knowing you, I wouldn’t be surprised if you used some nasty methods. But you couldn’t have learned anything. Not everyone is like you.”

“So, we've gotten to know each other better. You know me, I know you; isn’t that reason enough to negotiate politely?”

“About what?” the guy asks out of sheer curiosity as to what else bad Anger could suggest.

“You tell your friends everything you think about them. I've already told you the truth about them. And I help you get rid of them.”

“And why do you want that?”

“Just being friendly, that’s all. I want to help,” Anger’s eyes look slyly into Oli’s soul.

“I’ll repeat myself just in case: you’re no friend of mine!” Oli throws a handful of tar at him, which absorbs into Anger’s body. “Stop spouting this nonsense!”

“As you say. Keep being friends with traitors and liars,” Anger leans back on the throne. “Just remember, I warned you,” he turns his gaze away, offended.

“I remembered,” the guy searches calmly for an exit.

“Watch out that you don’t pay the price for your trust.”

At these words, Anger dissolves into the night fog. A crack appears in the black wall. It rises from the floor to the boundless, gloomy heavens. Black rocks unfold before Oli. In front is a circle shimmering with gold. He approaches it between the stone walls and listens. He places his hand on it; nothing happens. A moment later, the walls collapse. Stones shower down on him from above. The pain of the bruises is stronger than the cuts from the crystals, but it doesn’t burn as much. This pain is easier to bear after the previous one. Molten gold pours from the golden circle, scorching and knocking the guy off his feet.

Boulders cut off the way back. The level of liquid gold rises smoothly. Oli flails in it, using all his strength to swim out. All this mass presses down on him, squeezing him from all sides. He approaches the crest of the emerging ceiling. The gold covers the guy completely. What an irony: his consciousness is drowning in the one thing he never desired.

Everyone will disappear and perish along with this world. Oli doesn’t feel sorry for his own life, which he has never considered normal. He feels sorry for everyone else. His friends are waiting somewhere, and he won’t come. If, of course, they are waiting. Now, Anger’s words seem especially realistic to him. Even if that’s the case, he doesn’t want Alt to disappear without ever sitting on the cloud bridge and flying among the clouds there. And his other friends—what about them?

A torrent of molten gold with Oliver is rushing through the stone walls. Falling through the air, the guy breaks away from the metal and easily soars up. Another unfamiliar world. This time, it’s frightening. Although, it is much calmer and more picturesque here than the previous location.

He lands on a cloud made of something unusual yet familiar. The texture is reminiscent of rose petals. Precisely, white rose petals. And nearby, clouds of scarlet petals drift past. A little farther across the sky float pink, blue, and yellow petal-clouds. Oli doesn’t know the names of the other colors. Down below, little boats like those in a park move along the river. White swans circle nearby in pairs.

Music is playing. It’s similar to what was played at the concert at the orphanage where Oli grew up. It was a concert on Valentine’s Day. Back then, a girl even danced with him. Only she didn’t say her name and didn’t allow him to touch her face to get even a rough idea of her appearance. The guy only knows the pleasant scent of the kind girl.

Everyone laughed at her then because she was dancing with the blind boy, the one no one ever spoke to. But the girl spoke to him, openly and calmly. She earnestly asked him not to be upset and not to pay attention to them. Oliver quietly enjoyed himself.

The girls were brought from a special girls’ school for a formal ball in honor of the holiday. It was their first and last meeting, the most pleasant in his life. The dance with the amazing girl turned out to be the best birthday present. Oli had turned fifteen then.

People laughed at him even more precisely because his birthday was on such a holiday. They called him all sorts of names: “Little Cupid,” “Little Amour,” “Little Flower,” “Little Heart.” But that girl liked those nicknames. Back then, he started to like them too. The dance, unfortunately, ended. The girls were led back to the closed school. The orphanage was once again shut off from the rest of the world.

Oliver left the orphanage three years later. He tried to find the pleasant girl. But how do you explain to people who you are looking for if all you know about her is a scent? He tried anyway. Everyone looked at him like he was an idiot. Oli continued through life, moving farther away from her with every step.

Exactly that special melody is playing here. Clouds across the pinkish sky carry the guy to a white couch where a beautiful girl with a perfect figure and long, vibrant red hair is reclining. The hairstyle is called a “French Waterfall.” Mike once mentioned the name when Mia had it done. The curls twist, falling like streams of a real waterfall. The cloud of white petals delivers Oli onto a light marble platform, to the bed of the beautiful red-haired girl.

“How wonderful that you finally came to visit me. I've been waiting for you for five years.”

“Five years since when?” Oliver asks, surprised, not understanding the wait.

“Since that very ball when you danced with your one and only,” the red-haired girl explains, smiling softly.

“How do you know about that?” the guy wonders.

“Don’t you guess who I am?” the girl’s playful gaze sparkles with an alluring gleam.

“Are you Sympathy?” Oli tentatively suggests, recalling Anger’s words.

“Such a clever boy. Girls like those,” the beauty winks, momentarily closing her long eyelashes.

“So, you told Anger about my feelings for Mia?” the guy tries to restrain his anger so as not to fall for the gloomy guy’s tricks.

“I had no choice!” the red-haired girl defends herself guiltily, getting off the bed.

“How could you have no choice? What did he blackmail you with?” the guy softens his voice, knowing what Anger is capable of.

“He threatened to darken my part of your mind, too. He said all the petals would wither, the river would dry up, and he’d roast the swans on a bonfire made of the pleasure boats,” she says so sadly and sweetly that not a drop of anger remains in Oli’s soul. All those feminine charms. Once a girl masters them, she can control any man. Why didn’t she use her charms against Anger to save her part of the world?

“Okay. What exactly did you tell him?”

“Only the honest truth,” the frightened girl answers seriously.

“What truth?”

“That Mia is dear to you, and you are dear to her.”

“How do you know that I am dear to her too?” the guy asks with hope and surprise, wanting to make sure they are still friends, despite Anger’s words.

“I can see that immediately. Experience,” Sympathy answers proudly.

“Wait, why are you Sympathy and not Love? That’s strange,” Oli muses.

“All in good time, young man,” the girl answers playfully, lying back down on the soft, snow-white bed strewn with scarlet rose petals.

“What does that mean?” Oliver gets a little irritated by the riddles.

“Right now, I am Sympathy, and when the time comes, I shall call myself Love. It’s simple,” she waves her hand in the air. Pink and red glitter shower down above them.

“Fine. And where should I look for her?”

“Who? Your one and only?” Sympathy asks with interest.

“I need to find Mia! Maybe Mike is there too,” Oli voices his thoughts with concern.

“And when are you planning to look for your one and only?” the beauty asks, displeased.

“I don’t have time for that now.”

“Ugh, you’re a bore,” the girl turns away, offended.

“Just tell me,” Oli insists seriously.

“They say they've fallen into the domain of Deceit.”

“What kind of place is that?” New places that once beckoned with the unknown now put him on guard. Especially with names like that.

“It should be completely empty there. You never lie. And Deceit is such an unreliable type that you shouldn’t count on things being simple. He did everything his own way. In other words, without you, he lied quite a bit. You’ll never wash it off. If anyone finds out, of course,” Sympathy whispers, covering her mouth with her hand, looking cunningly at the guy.

“How do I find him?” Oli cuts straight to the point.

“Just think some kind of untruth, and he will reveal himself.”

“Okay, thank you, Sympathy.”

“Always happy to help,” the girl smiles playfully, covering her face with a fan of white, airy feathers.

“Wait. Will I become a liar by intentionally thinking an untruth?”

“No! Of course not!” she winks and looks around nervously.

“Fine,” I’ll do as you suggest. Oli understands that this is all a setup by someone. He nods barely noticeably to the red-haired beauty. “Thank you for everything! Please don’t leave my soul, I beg you.”

“I won’t leave, don’t worry. I'm fine right here,” the girl smiles and blows a kiss that whispers, almost inaudibly, “The world is deceitful, boy.”

Oli understands he cannot lie, not even mentally. So how does he enter the realm of deceit? If he cannot lie, someone must lie to him. But whom should he ask?

A boat moves slowly along the river, carrying a boy and a girl. He invented them recently when he was craving a relationship. He failed to create one for himself, but at least things are working out for them.

All that remains is to figure out what the lie will be. Mike always remained silent about Oli’s appearance. That means something is wrong with him. They are his friends, so they won’t want to hurt him with the truth if he asks. Perfect. Simple and effective. It’s settled. He’s going to ask. He descends on a cloud of pink petals like a real Cupid. He deserved the nickname.

“Hello, guys!” Oli greets them with a smile, smoothly approaching.

“It’s our Oli!” Kelly exclaims happily.

“Yeah, that’s right! Our Oli!” Peter reaches out to hug his friend, but nearly tips their boat over. He immediately returns to his seat.

“Sorry to interrupt you at such a moment,” the boy feels a little awkward intruding on a romantic date, even if it is a fictional couple.

“Nonsense! We’re only together because of you. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here. Thanks to you, we met. You made us the happiest people in the world,” Peter reassures him, acknowledging Oliver’s value.

“I'm glad you’re happy,” the boy says sincerely. “I have one request.”

“What is it? Anything at all,” Peter is ready to fulfill any request without bargaining.

“I need you to answer one question for me.”

“Yes, of course, ask away,” Kelly also shows her readiness.

“Tell me, are we real friends?” after what Anger said, Oli doubts the sincerity of all his friends a little. Besides, this will be less unpleasant than finding out about his ugly appearance.

“Of course, we’re real friends! What kind of question is that!” they both answer almost simultaneously. “You did such an important thing for us. And besides, we've always thought of you as our friend.”

“Really?” Oli looks around. Nothing happens. He happily believes them. It’s a pleasant truth.

“Of course, it’s the truth! Why would we lie to you,” Peter says, surprised.

“Can I ask one more question? A slightly different one.”

“Ask as many questions as you want! We’ll answer them all!” Kelly replies enthusiastically.

“Alright. Tell me, please, am I handsome?” he mentally prepares to hear the sweet lie that will surely make his world collapse.

“Sorry, buddy, I'm no expert on male beauty,” Peter avoids answering.

“Quite good-looking,” Kelly concludes seriously, examining the boy’s appearance. “Maybe even handsome. But for me, you understand, Peter is the best of all. He’s the most handsome to me,” they kiss without shyness.

And again, nothing happens. Is he really handsome, or is the idea simply not working?

“Alright, thank you for your answers. May I ask one last question?”

“Sure, ask away, don’t be shy, we’ll answer!” Peter waits for the next question, fully prepared.

“Tell me honestly, have you thought about leaving this world and settling in another, where you would live only the two of you?”

“No,” Peter answers quickly and briefly. A blue spark flashes in the distance.

“And you, Kelly, haven’t you thought about it?” Oliver prepares to look around.

“No, absolutely not,” the girl barely manages to keep from looking away. The spark flashes again in the distance.

“I see, friends. So, you are considering leaving,” Oli exposes them with a smile, happy that his idea is working.

“Forgive us, friend,” Peter apologizes, realizing their deceit has been exposed.

“We’re happy here,” Kelly supports him. “But you understand, we’re constantly being watched here, and we want to be alone, to live just for ourselves, to have a free, private life,” she looks at Oli pitifully, hugging Peter.

“Don’t worry, friends! I understand perfectly,” Oli smiles good-naturedly.

“You really understand?” Kelly clarifies.

“Of course! Because you helped me so much, I will help you.”

“Helped how? How will you help?” Peter is curious.

“You helped me with one important matter. And when I'm free, I’ll invent a separate world where no one will bother you, and when you miss everyone, you can visit them all here at any time.”

“That would be wonderful!” Kelly exclaims dreamily.

“Yes, that would be great,” Peter agrees.

“Will you really do that for us?” the girl looks at him with such an innocent and pure gaze.

“You’re my friends, and you have to help your friends. You helped me, didn’t you? Even if you hadn’t helped, I would have done it.”

“Thank you so much!” they both reach out to hug Oli. They stop just in time. The boat almost tips over again.

“You can thank me later,” the boy replies magnanimously. “Now I must go,” he hurries, before he forgets where the spark flashed.

“Yes, of course, we understand. Good luck with your endeavors.”

“Thanks, guys, enjoy your time together!”

Oli flies swiftly toward the blue glimmer in the distance. It’s good that he remembers the exact spot. The cloud of petals remains behind; it flies too slowly. After a few minutes, he arrives at the very spot. Now, he only needs to find the light. Nothing like it is visible against the pale-pink, cloudy sky.

He sweeps his hands through the air but feels nothing. He waves them above, below, in front of him, and to the sides. Nothing. He cannot give up. He continues his search. He feels a thick, dense cloud of pink mist. With an effort, he disperses the light haze. Yes, there’s the blue glimmer. What now?

He presses it, rubs it, blows on it, tosses it, twists it. To no avail. Nothing happens. He examines it closely. Maybe there’s a button or a lever. He finds it. It’s not a button. It has an inscription on it. The problem is that Oli doesn’t know how to read; no one has taught him, and he hasn’t learned himself. He has never seen a written text and doesn’t know what the letters and words he has heard look like. If only Mike were here now. He would definitely say what is written on the light.

“Yes, you’re right, Mike would definitely read what’s written here,” someone nearby says with a satisfied smile.

“Who are you?” Oli asks, turning toward the voice.

“Not Deceit. Definitely not the one you’re looking for,” Oli doesn’t have time to memorize his face. It changes instantly along with the clothes. Even the facial expressions are completely different. Only the voice remains the same.

“I found you,” Oli doesn’t know whether to rejoice or expect trouble.

“You haven’t found me. And the plan didn’t work,” the voice answers in disappointment.

“What plan?”

“You were supposed to read what was written on the light.”

“Yes, you’re right, I didn’t read it. I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

“It’s nothing, it happens. I completely forgot you can’t read. To be honest, I never knew, thought, or guessed that at all,” Deceit smiles slightly condescendingly.

“So what does it say?” Oli inquires.

“’the fool has been deceived,’“ Deceit laughs.

“In what sense?” the boy looks at him seriously, bewildered.

“The blue glimmer is not the entrance to my world. Admit it, you thought exactly that, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Oli answers honestly. “I did.”

“Then the joke worked,” Deceit snaps his fingers. The pink sky lets them through. They appear in a spacious sphere. Everything here is distorted, altered, and embellished. The boy recognizes objects by the outlines he has memorized with his hands over the years, but he cannot say exactly what and where things are. Instead, he understands that there is hardly anything real to be found here. At the same time, everything lives its own unreal life. How can he judge them if, essentially, he himself lives a fabricated life? His entire world is a lie, yet to him, it is the truth. A lie is an uncertain concept. For some, it is a lie, but for others, it is the truth if they believe in it.

“Where exactly is your world?” Oli asks, looking around.

“My great world of deceit is everywhere.”

“How is that?” the boy doesn’t understand. Everyone has their own clearly defined part in their consciousness.

“That’s how it is. My world is omnipresent. Deceit is everywhere and always, in everything and everyone.”

“Now I understand. I didn’t think that was possible,” Oli looks around. He realizes he sees everything, even though it doesn’t exist.

“In my world, everything is possible,” Deceit declares self-confidently.

“Why do you call it a world? After all, it is a part of my world.”

“Have you forgotten, boy? This is the world of deceit; everything here is unreal, even the definitions. Anger also doesn’t hesitate to use my tricks,” the appearance and clothes change again.

“So, you agree that your world is a part of my world?”

“Both yes and no,” the interlocutor answers ambiguously.

“How is that? Can’t you answer precisely?”

“On the one hand, it’s true, for you. On the other hand, for me, this part is my world, and for you, it is a lie. I choose the truth for myself. So, it’s my world. You can protest or be indignant if you want; it won’t change for me. I won’t believe you. Whoever lies themselves doesn’t believe anyone else.”

“Fine, have it your way,” Oli agrees, realizing the futility of arguing with pure deceit.

“Really?” Deceit is surprised.

“Of course, it’s your world,” Oli smiles calmly.

“Thank you, boy, for believing in my deceit. It’s pleasant and flattering, and most importantly, it boosts my self-esteem,” he smiles contentedly and proudly, straightening up.

“I’m glad it makes you happy. After all, agreeing with a lie doesn’t mean believing in it.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Deceit agrees. “And it’s still nice when people acknowledge your rightness, even if you are entirely wrong.”

“So why don’t you tell the truth? Then you would always be right.”

“It’s my essence,” Deceit smirks, changing his appearance along with his clothes.

“Yes, you can’t go against your essence. Otherwise, you would be deceiving yourself.”

“Exactly! Thank you for understanding,” the pleased Deceit rejoices again. Anyone can believe or not believe a lie, but only a few can understand its essence.

“Are my friends with you?” Oli looks intently into the secretive and cunning eyes.

“What friends?” Deceit is surprised.

“Mike and Mia,” the boy clarifies, without breaking eye contact.

“Ah! Those friends,” Deceit recalls with a smile.

“Yes, those,” his visual control doesn’t weaken for a moment.

“No, they’re not with me,” the master of the distorted world answers seriously.

“What if I look?” Oli looks more cunningly.

“You understand, I won’t admit it,” Deceit smirks. “You’ll have to look. Maybe you will find them. How am I supposed to know?” he shrugs his shoulders, changing his appearance again.

“Fine, I’ll look,” the boy has no other choice.

“Yes, yes! Please, my world is at your disposal,” he throws his arms wide open.

Oli sets off to search for his friends among the sheer deceit. If he didn’t know Mike and Mia, he would think it was impossible to find real friends amidst deceit. Although, who knows what the truth is? An experienced liar lies so skillfully and beautifully that he begins to believe himself. If everyone believes the deceit, even the one who generates it, any lie becomes the truth for everyone. That is how the very truth everyone believes in is born.

Truth sits somewhere in its humble, cobweb-covered corner, veiled in a layer of dust, while Deceit flourishes. His domain has become an entirely separate, practically independent, world. No one wants the fate of Truth, so they take Deceit’s side. They lie, pursuing personal goals. They constantly hide the truth. It’s simple.

The boy has searched so many deceitful places but hasn’t found his friends. He recalls the vision Anger showed him. The friends were laughing and having fun on some liquid island amidst a solid sea. They had plants made of stones and birds made of paper there. He needs to look for that place.

Oli flies as high as possible. He scans the world of pure lies intently. Amidst the unreal things and beings, he finds the rigid sea, and there is the island. Yes, his friends are on it. The boy flies straight to Mike and Mia. They are laughing and smiling just as they were in the vision shown in the grim place that sowed doubt in the boy’s soul.

“Finally! I found you!” Oli rejoices. He rushes to hug his friends.

“You looked for nothing,” Mia answers the boy with revulsion, pushing him away and grimacing as if something disgusting is in front of her.

“We don’t need you,” Mike says harshly, with an arrogant face.

“Yeah! We don’t need you!” Mia confirms with a smirk. They laugh at the bewildered Oli.

“But what’s wrong, guys? Why are you like this? We’re friends,” Oli tries to speak in a weak voice, not knowing how to react.

“Friends?” Mia repeats in surprise and disgust.

“Yes! We have been friends for so many years!” he tries to remind them of what is so dear to him.

“Friends?” Mike repeats. “You were never our friend.”

“We’re best friends. I don’t have anyone closer than you in any of the worlds,” Oli insists.

“Who cares that no one needs you? What do we have to do with it?” the girl turns away disdainfully.

“We used you to live in your world,” Mike says self-importantly. “Now we can live in the world of deceit. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Why would I do anything to you? I trusted you as myself. I thought we were best friends.”

“He thought,” Mike pokes him with a finger, laughing.

“Best friends,” Mia also laughs, looking at Oli, who is hurt to the core.

“So, none of it was real?” Oliver understands that Anger told the truth.

“Finally, it got through to him!” Mia says condescendingly.

“Have you forgotten where you are? This is an imaginary world. Everything here is fake. Our friendship is fake. You are fake. You don’t even exist. You certainly don’t exist for us!” Mike articulates every word with such anger and disgust that Oli genuinely regrets that he looked for them and found them. He feels so heavy and unhappy inside from the realization of his uselessness, from the disappointment in what he considered the most valuable thing in his worthless life. He just wants to disappear. With such strong pain in his soul, it won’t work. The imaginary world trembles. Moreover, he feels that the whole thing is trembling.

“Go on, cry some more,” Mia rubs her fists near her eyes, like children teasing.

“I understand everything. Fine. I won’t interfere with your lives anymore. You are having fun here. And it’s time for me to go,” Oli turns around and slowly flies away, not knowing what to do now or where to go.

“Fly away already!” Mike shouts after him. “I don’t want to see your face anymore!”

“We’ve had enough of you after all these years! And it’s the same thing every time!” Mia adds. “Get lost! Don’t disturb us while we rest! And don’t think of coming back!”

Oli doesn’t answer anything. He just flies away. Deceit, with a satisfied smirk, opens a door in front of him in the place where the boy finds himself. In this world, entrances and exits appear wherever you wish. The boy silently leaves the world of deceit after the revelation of the main lie in his life. Anger was right. They are better off without him.

The friendship wasn’t the deceit; Oli deceived himself by inventing people who could be friends with him. It turns out that friendship cannot be invented. It either exists or it doesn’t. He didn’t create Mike and Mia, so he can’t force them to be friends with him. Why would anyone need such a friendship when they have to force it? That is no longer friendship. That is burdensome communication that prevents everyone from living in peace.

Oliver smoothly enters a new place. He doesn’t know why he continues to move forward. He has no friends now, and no one left to look for. He just needs to return to the cloud bridge. Or maybe destroy this imaginary world and go back to reality. Suddenly, he feels a slight warmth in his soul, a sense of support. The angry thoughts in his head dissipate. In a single instant, he changes his mind about destroying the created world and leaving it. He remembers his promise to create a cozy place for Peter and Kelly. He must help the couple become happier.

“That’s the real Oli I know,” a light appears in the darkness of his thoughts, and a cherished image emerges from it. No, the boy has never seen him before; he has only felt him.

“Have you known me before?”

“We've always been nearby. Since childhood.”

“I don’t remember you,” Oli tries to recall the familiar face, but he can’t.

“People don’t think about me. I appear where my essence arises.”

“I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

“Do you remember the boy named Stewie?”

“Of course, I remember!” Oli recalls with a smile. “We became friends the very first day I arrived at the orphanage.”

“That’s when I appeared in your consciousness.”

“We’re still friends,” Oli adds with a smile, thinking of Stewie. “Maybe we aren’t,” he whispers sadly, getting lost in thought.

“Why do you doubt it?”

“We haven’t seen each other in a long time. It’s been about two years since the last time.”

“You don’t have to see each other often to remain friends. Friends don’t have to see each other at all to be friends and mentally support one another from a distance.”

“Yes, you’re right. I remember him as if he were standing right next to me.”

“See?” the image smiles warmly.

“So you are Friendship?” the boy is first happy about the meeting, then he grows sad.

“Yes, I am Friendship. But I prefer the name Rouge. Don’t read anything into it; I just like the name.”

“Okay. I understand. I’ll remember,” Oli agrees immediately.

“Thank you, that’s very friendly of you,” Rouge smiles. “But why does meeting me make you sad?” he places a hand on Oli’s shoulder like an old friend. He guides him along a bumpy road.

“I lost my best friends. I'm a bad friend and don’t deserve to meet you.”

“What nonsense are you talking, my friend?” Rouge exclaims with a smile. From the bushes, toothy and clawed creatures, no bigger than a cat, peek out and jump. They get between the walking pair, cling to their legs, biting and scratching. Friendship kicks them away.

“I'm saying what I see and hear,” Oli replies sadly.

“You said it correctly: ‘What you see and hear’.”

“Well, yeah, what I see and hear,” the boy confirms his own words.

“And you haven’t forgotten where you were just walking, have you?” Rouge looks closely at Oliver.

“No, I haven’t forgotten. It’s a world of deceit,” the boy recalls.

“Exactly!” Friendship squeezes his shoulder.

“And what of it?” Oli doesn’t understand what Rouge is getting at. He can’t think of anything at all.

“What do you mean, ‘what'? Everything you saw and heard there—it’s all untrue. It doesn’t exist and can’t exist. Well, maybe it could, but not in your case.”

“Mike and Mia said everything like they meant it. They put their heart into every word. I heard so many unpleasant things,” Oli walks with a sad expression, remembering what he heard from his friends.

“And you believed it?” Rouge looks at the boy in surprise.

“Yes. They were extremely convincing,” his cheek muscles even twitch a little when he remembers.

“You know, my impressionable friend, deceit can be so convincing and realistic that it seems truer than the truth.”

“I believed them,” Oli looks at Rouge seriously.

“Why?” he can’t understand such a trusting nature in the boy, especially when he knows where he’s just been.

“Because they are my friends. I take their word for it.”

“That was the whole plan!” Friendship tries to explain.

“What plan?” Right now, everything in the boy’s head is jumbled with emotions. It’s hard to grasp even the simplest things.

“Who was the first to tell you that they didn’t need you?”

“Anger,” Oli remembers distinctly.

“Exactly! He needs to drive a wedge between you.”

“But why would he want that?” the boy is surprised by the lack of understanding.

“To kill me. And on the ruins of the friendly part of your consciousness, expand the world of anger. He and Deceit are making serious plans for your world.”

“Now I get it. But Mike and Mia were talking to me there, not Anger or Deceit.”

“Are you sure it was Mike and Mia?” Rouge looks into the boy’s eyes for emphasis.

“Now I'm not sure,” Oli finally doubts.

“Doubt in a lie is already the beginning of the path to truth. By the way! Would you like me to introduce you to my friend Truth?” Friendship is delighted with his own idea.

“I would,” Oli is immediately interested in the offer.

“You will definitely become friends with her,” Rouge assures happily. He leads Oli faster so that the parasites don’t manage to cling to their legs.

Together they walk through pits and over hills and thorny bushes. They climb high trees, helping each other, to continue their path up the cliffs. Together they cross a rushing river. When one of them falls, the other always reaches out a hand and helps him up.

In front of a dilapidated door, a choice arises. You can only enter to see Truth one at a time. An explanation is written below, stating that this is the only way to understand her—by not listening to others, even friends, who might interrupt, correct, or prevent you from saying important things. Rouge hasn’t seen Truth in a long time, and he really wants to visit her. Both realize that it is more important and necessary for Oli right now.

“Go on,” Friendship sacrifices his chance to meet his old friend for him.

“Are you sure? Maybe you should go? Now isn’t the right time for me to meet Truth.”

“Now is the most perfect time for it. As it always is,” Rouge smiles confidently, opening the door.

“All right, I trust your judgment.”

“That’s the spirit,” Rouge says contentedly.

“Thank you very much,” Oli thanks him with a smile, stepping into the darkness behind the dilapidated door.

“Always ready to help, my friend,” Friendship claps the boy on the shoulder and closes the fragile door.

Oli finds himself in absolute darkness. A faint ringing pierces the total silence. A bright spark ignites in the gloom and grows before his eyes, gradually illuminating a small room that would be a tight fit for three people. It’s better not to crowd. The light gets bigger and takes on human contours.

The tiny spark becomes a woman in torn, ragged clothing. Her face is deeply lined with wrinkles. Her hair resembles a cobweb covering the grim walls of the room on top of a thick layer of dust. From his conversation with Friendship, the guy figures out that the person before him is Truth. The woman sits in the corner, gathering up the gray tatters that serve as her clothes.

“You finally made it to me,” Truth says in a weak, trembling voice.

“I didn’t know where to look for you,” Oli says, almost apologetically.

“If you want to find me, just look into your heart. It’ll show you the way to me instantly. I’m always near, wherever you are.”

“Okay. Tell me, why do you look like that?” he asks, gazing at her worn-out rags.

“You see, boy, I’m older than most of the creatures and things that exist in the world. I appeared when there was still darkness and light was just being born.”

“If you’re so important to the life of everything that exists, why do you live in these conditions?” he asks sympathetically, examining the grim, cramped, neglected closet.

“To most people, I don’t matter at all. No one thinks about me. They left me here to die in silence and gloom. No one needs me anymore. You’ve seen how Deceit flourishes, haven’t you?” Truth smiles sadly.

“Yes, I have, I was there recently,” he doesn’t want to say how well Deceit is doing, so as not to upset Truth any further.

“Then you understand people’s aspiration for me. They’re comfortable under the power of deceit. They aspire to it themselves.”

“Don’t people create the deceit?”

“They think they’re using it to their advantage. In reality, it uses everyone, gradually penetrating deeper and deeper into their lives. It seizes control over them. Deceit already rules its world. I realize you’re not very familiar with reality, but I must regrettably reveal the truth. Deceit rules the world. And it’s unlikely that will ever change.”

“Aren’t there people who oppose it?”

“They are so few that their efforts wouldn’t be enough to change the world in a thousand years. Deceit penetrates deeper into people’s minds. It’s so cunning and insidious that it even passes through the mouths of those fighting for truth. And those who champion truth with all their might are loudly called lunatics, so no one will listen to them.”

“It sounds like the end of the world because of deceit.”

“More like the end of true light and the absorption of the world by the utter darkness of deceit.”

“How terrible everything is,” Oli tries to imagine what the future holds. It’s hard even to picture.

“That’s the truth. We can’t change it.”

“Can absolutely nothing be done?”

“Deceit won’t conquer this world completely as long as even one spark of truth burns. And you, don’t extinguish yours, then it won’t defeat you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look into your heart and ask yourself, are Mike and Mia still your friends or not?”

“How will I know the answer?”

“You’ll know, believe me, I know for sure. I am Truth.”

The last words sound like a receding echo. The guy becomes so lost in thought about her words that he doesn’t notice Truth disappear. Oli is left alone in the gloom of the small closet. He needs to learn to look into his heart and talk to it to find out the truth about his friendship with Mike and Mia. The guy, unknowing of the truth, sits down on the cold stone floor in the darkness. To get rid of the tension, he closes his eyes. He tries to concentrate. But what should he concentrate on?

He thinks about Mike and Mia. He pictures them before him. His best friend is serious, as always. His girlfriend is cheerful, genuinely, not like in the world of Deceit. He asks himself, looking at them. Are they his friends? An immediate answer follows in his thoughts. His entire being considers them friends, despite what was said earlier. His mind kicks in, formulating a logical answer. The guy forcibly disconnects it from communicating with the truth. Logic has no place here. He repeats the question and hears the answer. They are still his friends, and it will be that way until the light disappears from all worlds. The answer completely satisfies the guy.

Oli returns to his world. Now his mind is at peace. He can continue to search for real friends. Where should he look, if he saw Mike and Mia in the World of Deceit? That means they weren’t the real ones. How did he not notice immediately that Mia’s one eye kept twitching? Mike had one blue eye and one green eye.

In all his years of knowing them, he never paid attention to their appearance. This time, he should have taken a closer look. He admits his mistake. Inattentiveness. While his thoughts arrange themselves in the correct order in his enlightened mind, he notices that there is not darkness around him, but a bright, clear light and nothing else.

“I wonder, did I come to you, or did you come to me?” someone in the radiance asks cheerfully.

“That depends on who you are.”

“I am Illumination.”

“Why can’t I see you?”

“That’s all me,” the voice replies cheerfully.

“Where?” the young man tries to make out anyone in the radiance.

“Everywhere. I am Illumination, from the word light,” the voice explains.

“So, you are this bright light?” Oli still can’t quite grasp it. It feels as if his consciousness simply refuses to process anything when it concerns emotions and his state of mind.

“Yes. Now I’ll become even brighter, since you've experienced your second illumination,” the voice giggles.

“Why am I here?”

“What do you mean, why? You wanted to know the truth, and you learned it. Anyone who learns and accepts the truth becomes illuminated.”

“I thought that took years of meditation, a specially conducted life.”

“And how is your life not special? And why waste time on it if the truth is so simple to learn? You should know that. You just have to look into your heart and cast off everything superfluous. You have gotten rid of other people’s opinions, prejudices, and self-deceit. You have seen the very essence of things. You learned the truth and accepted it. You achieved illumination. See how simple everything is.”

“I see. I just don’t understand how it happened like this. I only wanted to know the truth about friendship.”

“The truth came to you so simply because you didn’t complicate things. You came with a simple question and got a simple answer. If everyone acted like that, the whole world would have achieved illumination long ago.”

“Why haven’t they yet?”

“Because no one needs it. It’s much calmer to quietly sit in the darkness of ignorance and self-deceit, which is based on imposed thoughts. It’s easier to live according to generally accepted concepts that they pass off as truth. Illumination hasn’t interested anyone for a long time. It’s easier to ask yourself a question that you don’t want to hear the answer to, invent some lie for self-soothing, and return to ordinary life. Few people come to visit me. I can’t even remember the last time I shone so brightly. Thank you for coming and reminding me.”

“I think I can answer your question now. You came to me, not I to you,” Oli finally realizes.

“In essence, it doesn’t matter who came to whom, if illumination is achieved.”

“Yes, you’re right,” the young man agrees, understanding that none of that matters anymore.

“And this is the third time you've experienced illumination,” the bright light reminds him cheerfully.

“I hope it will be useful to me.”

“I'm sorry if I disappoint you. Now it will be even harder for you.”

“So be it. I’ll manage,” knowing the truth, Oli is much more confident in his goals.

“Now, that’s the right attitude,” Illumination approves.

“Just tell me one thing. I learned the truth, but I didn’t find any friends. What was all this for?”

“You found them in your heart. That’s more important. Believe me.”

“I do believe you. But what should I do now?”

“Keep searching.”

“Where?” the young man ran out of options with the first step he took across the boundaries of the cloud bridge. He had never been to any of these places in his consciousness. And he hadn’t suspected they existed.

“Start right here,” the cheerful voice advises as it fades away.

A bright light flashes and fades. Oli stays put. The afterimage lingers in his eyes. Visibility returns. A new location is before him. Ahead, an old man sits hunched over with his back to him, staring into the distance. The guy walks closer. He stands on the peak of a mountain whose base is invisible. The mountain itself is composed of sandstone slabs. Oli sits down next to the old man. The man doesn’t react to his arrival. He just keeps gazing into the distance. Oli peers into the boundless celestial expanses. Nothing but sky without a single hint of anything else. A void filled with expectation. He waits to see something, but there’s nothing visible.

“What’s there?” the old man quietly asks, not tearing his fixed gaze from the vastness.

“I don’t know. Please, tell me, what’s there?”

“I won’t tell you,” the old man simply replies.

“Why?” the guy didn’t expect that at all.

“I don’t know myself. But I’m sure it’s something good there,” he smiles, looking into the distance with hope for the best.

“How do you know?”

“I don’t know. I believe,” the old man answers calmly. “My faith is so strong that I’m certain there is only good there.”

“Who are you, old man?” the guy clarifies, to understand the point of this strange conversation.

“You know. You know everything.”

“I have a guess, but I’m not sure.”

“That’s strange. We’re parts of the same world. I’m certain, and you doubt.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Because I am made of pure faith.”

“So I don’t make a mistake, tell me your name,” Oli asks.

“Gelof. It’s right that you ask instead of guessing. No matter how strong your faith, it’s better to show prudence. Before stating an opinion, it’s better to ask what the correct answer is.”

“If you are made of faith, then what is the mountain near the cloud bridge made of?”

“You know correctly. The mountain near the cloud bridge is your faith in yourself.”

“Then what kind of faith are you made of?”

“Absolute faith.”

“What’s that like?”

“A person either believes or doesn’t. He chooses for himself what to believe in.”

“And what is this mountain made of?” Oli looks down at the sandstone slabs.

“This is hope.”

“Why is it made of sandstone slabs?”

“Hope is also fragile. When a person loses hope, the sand crumbles, faith falls into the abyss of hopelessness, and vanishes into non-existence.”

“How does it rise up again then?”

“For some, it never rises again at all. For those who are stronger, hope collects grain by grain into a new mountain. At the very bottom, a new faith begins to grow.”

“You’ve never fallen?”

“Why would you think that?” the old man smiles.

“This mountain is so tall, and you are so old. Does that mean I’ve never lost hope and always believed?”

“It would be nice if that were the case.”

“So, it’s not that way?” Oli gets upset.

“Why do you start doubting right away? You should listen to the old man first.”

“Forgive me, Gelof,” the guy apologizes calmly, looking into the distance.

“You’re a special case. You often lost hope, but it was so fleeting that only one, two slabs at most, crumbled from the whole mountain. Then you pulled yourself together. New slabs, and in greater number, appeared in the places where the others crumbled. You always knew you couldn’t lose hope, or you would completely disappear, which is why I’m still alive. Moreover, your mountain of hope has a stable core. You created it yourself with faith in yourself. Few manage that, but you did.”

“Does that mean my mountain of hope will never fully crumble? And you will never vanish into hopelessness?”

“You are not the type of person who lets himself lose hope and give up. The stones of problems and misfortunes shatter against the mountain of your self-belief, and the caves of doubt don’t manage to grow in it; you immediately seal them up. Keep doing the same thing, and I will sit on the peak for as long as your consciousness exists. Want me to tell you a secret?”

“I do,” Oli moves closer so he doesn’t miss a single word.

“Your consciousness will exist forever.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t know, I believe,” Gelof smiles slyly.

“Then I’ll believe too,” Oliver decides, making a mental promise to himself.

“You already believe. After all, I am your faith.”

“Why didn’t I believe it earlier?”

“You always knew this, but you felt it rather than thought about it. Other options never arose for you, you can believe me.”

“Why is the sky ahead so clear?”

“You only believe in the good. And you’re right to do so. What’s the point of looking at the sky if you only believe in the bad? Then you’ll only see black clouds. You believe in the best, and you see the best. What we believe in is what we see.”

“Tell me, do you know where my friends are?”

“I don’t know. But I believe you will find them.”

“I believe that too,” the guy sighs. “But can you tell me where to look?”

“I don’t know that, forgive me.”

“It’s nothing, I’ll find them somehow.”

“You definitely will find them! I believe in you,” Gelof encourages.

“Thank you,” Oliver gradually begins to calm down. Faith gives him confidence in his own strength and in a better future.

“Thank yourself,” the old man smirks.

“Alright, I’ll thank myself more often for the confidence.”

“Just don’t lose hope. And keep moving forward. The view is good here. I want to sit and look at your bright, happy future a little longer,” the old man again fixes his intent gaze, full of pure faith, on the endless blue sky.

“Rest easy, you’ll be here forever,” Oliver assures him.

Oli once more scans the vast sky. The mountain shifts and creaks. The sand in the slabs compacts. Another choice. He needs to decide where to go next. The mountain beneath him disappears. The guy finds himself inside a large sphere from which numerous tunnels, radiating in all directions, originate. Each one glows with its own shade of color. No two are alike. He has to choose where to go. He can’t just sit here forever. His eyes dart in every direction. So many options.

“Is it really difficult with me?” the sphere’s transparent inhabitant says to the guy.

“Let me guess,” Oliver replies.

“Please do,” the mood in the sphere is calm and interested.

“You’re the Choice, aren’t you?” the guy easily guesses, considering the place he’s landed.

“You’re perceptive,” the voice notes.

“I learned to guess along the way.”

“Then choosing will be easier, since you already have some skills and experience.”

“I doubt that’s enough to make the right choice.”

“I’m composed of nothing but doubts,” the invisible figure in the outline laughs.

“Why are you transparent?” Oliver is already getting a bit used to the fact that everyone he meets in his imaginary world looks strange or nothing like anything at all. Still, he asks to understand his conversational partners and his own consciousness.

“I’ll become the color of the tunnel you choose,” the conversational partner explains. “The choice a person makes affects not only their subsequent life but also the fates of the people connected to them. I depend entirely on you, while other people depend partially.”

“Will someone’s life really change because of the choice I make now?” He’d never thought about this, as he doesn’t really talk to or is connected with anyone in his life.

“I guarantee it,” Choice assures him seriously.

“Interesting. The most uncertain thing is guaranteeing such serious matters. If so, I’ll believe you,” Oli smiles. “Whose fate depends on my current choice?”

“I can’t say whose fates will change the most. I can definitely say that the fates of all living and future people will change.”

“From just one choice of mine?” It’s hard to grasp how a simple decision can have such a massive impact.

“What did you expect?” the invisible conversational partner sneers out loud. “All fates are connected. By making a decision and even the smallest choice, we change the destiny of all humanity.”

“I’ve always taken choices seriously, to avoid making a mistake and to make the right decision, but this is too much.”

“In this matter, there’s no such thing as ‘too much’. Choice itself is neutral. And the consequences are unpredictable, even though it might seem you know exactly what the decision will lead to. You see I’m transparent. My shell is the intention to make a choice. By being colored by the choice, I change. And right now, I don’t know what I’ll become.”

“Why are you kind of not here, but the shell is?”

“It exists because a choice must be made regardless.”

“What am I choosing right now?”

“You need to decide which direction to continue moving. Wasn’t that what you were thinking about a few minutes ago?”

“It was,” the guy confirms, taking the choice even more seriously.

“So, why don’t you choose already? Every second you’re thinking and choosing, someone else is making a decision and all your options change. Who knows what result you’ll get in the next second?”

“Alright. I choose this one,” Oli walks up to the red-colored tube.

“Excellent! The choice is made!” Choice rejoices, taking on a bright red color.

“Goodbye,” the guy bravely steps into the red tunnel. The neighboring yellow path joins the tube. Choice becomes orange, just like Oli’s route.

The boy isn’t surprised by this at all. He calmly walks down the winding corridor. This choice is unconscious, as he doesn’t know where all the unknown roads lead. Such a choice is easier to make when the options aren’t fighting one another in his mind. One step forward and it’s done. The main thing is not to look back after that. Behind him, he hears the sound of a soap bubble popping. Oli doesn’t know what it looks like, but he remembers the sound from childhood. From a dark childhood.

Stewie talked a lot about soap bubbles. His friend often made them in the mornings when everyone went to wash up. Many of them popped when they touched Oli’s body. He was always the closest. Or perhaps Stewie tried to stay close to him all the time. Who else but him would help and protect Oli? There were times when Oli was left alone, without his protection. Then Stewie would spend a long time scrubbing ink off his friend’s face and hands, and sewing up his clothes. The hardest part was getting his boots from everywhere.

It was tough, but his friend never complained; he did it with a smile that Oli didn’t see, but felt its warmth. Thanks to that smile, he felt warmer, brighter, and calmer inside. Only with him could the boy smile and laugh. Nothing else brought him an ounce of joy.

Oliver didn’t see the faces of those who beat, punished, and hurt him. He only felt the pain they inflicted, both physical and emotional. Not only his body suffered; his soul did, too. The injustice touched him to the quick. Over time, he got used to it, he resigned himself to it, but he didn’t seek revenge.

He couldn’t do anything, but he had a lot to tell. He kept silent. The path of vengeance is slippery and unpredictable. When you want to hurt someone in return for the harm they caused you, you might get caught in your own traps. Revenge can become the beginning of a protracted war and turn into evil for everyone. Then the innocent will suffer, too.

Oli started to leave more often when Stewie got a job as a waiter. His friend spent almost the entire day in the cafeteria. The new friends in his imaginary world were with him more often than anyone else. Over time, he began to spend all his free time here. The rest of the time, he worked with his hands. Everyone considered the boy disabled, but he was unmatched in his work.

Most of the children from the orphanage worked at the ballpoint pen factory. Oli assembled the finished parts. Every month, he broke his previous records. The other children were intensely jealous. Bruised fingers ache and take a long time to heal. They taught him not to rush unnecessarily. There were no more records.

The orange pipe ends. Ahead, the air floats like a heat haze. It’s impossible to tell what lies beyond. An indefinite screen distorts the picture. The main thing is that the pipe is finished. The caustic color has become tiresome and irritating. The choice is made. Now, all that remains is to await its inevitable consequences.

He closes his eyes. He dashes into the floating air. He plummets downward. He doesn’t even plummet; he drops like a stone into the unknown. He opens his eyes. Everything is blurred. He doesn’t even know where he’s falling or what’s happening around him. He wonders what will happen when he reaches the bottom. Will he smash to pieces, or will he bounce off and fly upward? He doesn’t have the slightest idea. There’s no point in guessing. He just has to fall.

“You know, kid, this is the first time I’ve seen this kind of reaction,” says a figure, as unstable as everything else here, with surprise.

“What reaction?” Oliver asks calmly.

“Usually everyone screams, fears, prays, begs, threatens, cries, some laugh. But you just calmly entrust yourself to the circumstances, not knowing what awaits you ahead. I mean, below,” the unstable interlocutor corrects himself on the fly.

“What’s the point? I don’t want to die in anxiety and fear, and if I survive, then why worry and be afraid at all?”

“Yeah, you’re right. And why don’t the others understand that?” the shifting figure agrees, looking thoughtful.

“And who are you?” the guy asks out of curiosity.

“Uncertainty,” the figure replies with hesitation. “Or Chance,” it immediately corrects its own answer. “A Confluence of Circumstances. Ah,” the shifting figure waves a hand dismissively. “I don’t know.”

“How about I call you Chance?” Oli suggests for simplicity.

“Why Chance?” the interlocutor asks with interest.

“It’s a shorter name. Uncertain Chance. A confluence of various unpredictable circumstances and probabilities. And chances come in different forms.”

“You know, I like that,” Chance smiles contentedly.

“Perfect! So, what am I doing here?” the falling guy asks for clarification.

“How should I know?” the indefinite companion laughs.

“Oh, right, sorry,” Oli remembers. “And where are we falling?”

“If only I knew,” the figure flying beside him sighs heavily.

“Why are you so indefinite?” the guy asks with a smile.

“It just happened that way,” the indefinite figure replies with a strange intonation.

“All right. Tell me, in which directions are there entrances from your domain? And what’s there?”

“I didn’t know there were other places,” Chance replies with genuine surprise.

“Got it. Do you at least roughly know what’s down there?”

“No, I’ve never been there,” the indefinite figure looks down indifferently.

“And where have you been?” Oliver tries to learn something useful for making the right future decisions.

“I haven’t been anywhere,” Chance admits.

“Then what are you doing here at all?”

“Happening,” the figure replies, smiling.

“Yeah, you can’t argue with that,” Oli also finds the situation comical. “Falling is interesting, of course. But I need to move on.”

“Move on where?” the indefinite figure asks with interest.

“I don’t know,” Oli honestly admits.

“Are you Chance, too?” the figure falling beside him asks, recognizing the similarity between them.

“No, I know exactly what I want, but I don’t know where to find it,” Oliver replies firmly and a little lost.

“If you know what you want, then move in the set direction. Even a fall can lead to an unexpected rise when you want to fly.”

“So what should I do?” Oliver asks for advice, noticing that Chance isn’t as simple as he first seemed.

“Relax. Trust me.”

“Okay,” the guy completely trusts Chance.

“See you later!” Chance cries out happily, shoving Oli sideways.

The boy crosses an indistinct wall of an indeterminate place. He knows from the feeling that it has no borders. He falls out of a drop and rolls with the momentum. He stops near a phone booth, which hangs in the middle of a planet turned inside out, facing him. Michael was the one who drew Earth for him.

Fireflies race out from the antenna on top of the booth to different parts of the planet. He steps inside. The path he rolled along disappears. The inside-out planet spins, but the booth remains stationary. He lifts the telephone receiver off the hook. It brightens and darkens, depending on the location of the signal. If the signal goes to the night hemisphere, it darkens, and if to the day hemisphere, it brightens.

Long tones ring in the receiver. He listens closely. A click. Coherent phrases pour from the other side of the line, but nothing is understandable. One long word in an unknown language. The boy listens for a long time, even understanding some words. They just don’t help. He waits a little longer, hoping the person on the other side of the line will stop talking. The boy runs out of patience. He takes a deep breath. He yells into the receiver.

“Hello!” the boy puts all the air he’s inhaled into the word.

“Yes, yes,” the voice in the receiver abruptly stops. It answers the call from the phone booth calmly.

“Hello,” Oliver greets, a little lost.

“Hello, with whom do I have the honor of speaking?” the person on the line asks clearly and calmly. It sounds like a woman’s voice. He realizes this when the speed of speech slows down.

“My name is Oliver,” the boy introduces himself politely.

“Oh, dear Oli!” the joyful voice speeds up a little. “I've been waiting for your call for a long time.”

“Why?” the boy is surprised that someone is waiting for him, even though he hadn’t planned on entering this booth.

“You speak so little, my boy. I was starting to worry about you,” the woman says in a worried voice.

“What’s wrong with that?” the boy wonders. Silence has become a habit for Oliver.

“When you speak so little, my boy, you gradually forget your own voice and get out of the habit of communicating. The worst thing is, you start to be silent even with yourself later,” the woman says the last phrase with horror in her voice.

“Yes, it wouldn’t be good to fall completely silent,” Oli muses, imagining for a second the complete silence around him and in his head. “Now I'm interested in who you are,” he smiles into the receiver.

“You don’t recognize me?” the woman sounds a little disappointed. “Communication. To you, I'm just Nika. And let’s use the informal ‘you’. My voice sounds so rough not because of age; we’re the same age.”

“Then why?” the boy thought he was talking to a much older woman.

“If only you knew how much talking I have to do in a day,” Nika sighs heavily into the receiver. “It’s not old age; it’s just ordinary fatigue, my silent boy.”

“Why do you talk so much then?”

“I don’t talk; I transmit,” the young girl, as she turns out to be, explains.

“What do you transmit?”

“Signals, what else?” Nika is a little annoyed by his misunderstanding of such simple things.

“What signals?” Oliver now tries to clarify even the simplest things so he doesn’t make a mistake by assuming something wrong.

“What an incomprehensible boy. I help people connect with each other, to communicate, so they don’t forget about one another. If everyone stops communicating, the connections between people will vanish, and society will break down into small, separate particles. Then try to put them all back together. It would be irreversible. Or irretrievable. You choose the word you prefer.”

“I’d rather not choose. You just keep connecting people. I just have a small request,” Oliver always tries to remember the main goal of his journey through his inner world.

“What is it? Tell me quickly, I have a couple of million subscribers waiting on the line here.”

“How can I contact my friends?”

“Will you wait a second? I’ll contact the center.”

“Yes, of course,” he hears the tones again in the receiver. A click.

“Albert! How are you?” A new voice is audible in the receiver.

“I'm not Albert,” the boy replies, confused.

“How are you not Albert? Then who are you?” the woman in the receiver wonders.

“I'm Oliver,” the boy says honestly.

“Which Oliver?” the woman’s intonation changes from surprised to perplexed.

“I don’t even know how to explain it to you,” Oliver reflects. “I can only say that I'm definitely not Albert.”

“Why did you pick up the phone then?” the woman protests.

“I was already holding it when you called.”

“Young man!” the woman says threateningly. “Don’t mess with me! You shouldn’t pick up the phone when it’s not for you. It’s rude to butt into other people’s conversations!”

“I'm sorry, it happened by accident,” Oli apologizes guiltily.

“I know your accidents,” suspicion is mixed with arrogance in her voice.

“Goodbye,” the boy returns the bright receiver to the hook. A new call rings a few seconds later. Oli pauses for a moment, wondering if he should answer. He takes an emotional risk. He answers. “Hello?”

“Oli, my boy,” he hears Nika’s voice again. It is familiar and pleasant because it’s not another angry person. “Sorry, I got distracted for a second, a conversation broke through.”

“Yes, but it’s not a big deal. We had a nice chat,” the boy reassures her with a grin.

“If so, that’s good,” Nika calms down. “Although, I know that woman.”

“Did you get through?” the boy returns to the important matter.

“I did,” the girl replies sadly.

“And what did they tell you?”

“Where your friends are right now, there’s no connection whatsoever. No telephone, no telegraph. Even carrier pigeons don’t fly there.”

“Okay. Thank you. Sorry to distract you from your work,” Oliver’s voice darkens.

“Oh, nonsense, my boy. It’s always a pleasure to talk to you.”

“I liked the conversation too,” the boy tries not to show how upset he is by the unsuccessful attempt.

“Just talk to people in all the worlds more often, okay?” Nika asks solicitously, her voice showing concern.

“All right, I’ll try,” the boy promises with a smile.

“That’s wonderful,” the girl’s voice brightens by a couple of tones. “Let’s finish talking next time, or these chatterboxes will cut the line on me,” the busy girl says irritably. “Talk to you soon, my boy.”

“Talk to you soon, Nika,” thousands of words pour from the receiver simultaneously again.

Oli hangs the dark receiver on the hook. It was a nice conversation. Just fruitless. He is still a little upset. For a second, the hope of at least hearing his friends’ voices on the phone had taken hold of him. But no miracle happened.

What kind of place is it there, closed off from any connection with the rest of the world? Oliver wonders if that indignant woman managed to reach Albert. This unexpected thought flashes in his head for some reason. He worries about Albert. What if it was something important, and he interfered with that conversation? It doesn’t seem likely, though. It was still awkward.

The phone booth is contracting from all sides, spiraling inward. The planet revolves around Oliver. Or maybe he’s spinning inside the planet. That isn’t the most important thing right now. The guy is being squeezed and twisted. It feels like he’s about to be crushed right here. He has to get out. He tries to open the warped door. Now it’s impossible. He tries to kick out the window panes. They prove to be tougher than his legs. His insides are being contorted. The booth is also shrinking now. It’s completely crushing the guy.

His body dissolves into the small space. Soon enough, it vanishes entirely. His consciousness remains in place, but his perception is no longer the same. Oliver short-circuits on himself. He feels like a burst soap bubble. The sound is the same. Slowly, he reassembles himself. First, his consciousness recovers. Now his body regains its usual form.

Oli looks around. Sabers, swords, spears, pitchforks, a whole collection of knives, and even sewing needles hang on the gray walls, scarred with barbs. A lawnmower stands in the far-left corner, a chainsaw awaits its moment in the right, and next to it hang plain saws of various shapes and sizes. All these objects are united by their sharpness and frightening appearance. Everything is so sharp that it seems you could cut your eyes just by looking at the blades.

The guy feels a little freaked out. In the middle of the room, a woman appears with masculine facial features and physique. Tears stream from one eye, while the other glares at Oliver with furious anger, as if she wants to pierce him through and through. He wants to leave.

The room is sealed, and there’s nowhere to escape the terrifying woman, the sharp objects on the walls, and the chains with sharp spikes on the ends that dangle from the ceiling. It’s starting to get hot. The guy looks down at his feet. The floor is covered with red-hot coals. Now it’s absolutely no laughing matter. It’s starting to scorch him. All his accidental burns taken together wouldn’t compare to this sensation. If you can’t get away from an unpleasant person, negotiate.

“Hello,” Oli greets her cordially.

“Hi, lucky guy,” the masculine woman smiles. She pricks the guy with the sharp tines of a long pitchfork.

“Why am I lucky?” he is surprised by such an address in this situation.

“Any other person, I’d already be slicing and sawing, frying over an open fire. And I wouldn’t have to choose just one of those things,” the woman looks fondly at the walls.

“Why aren’t you doing that to me?”

“I have no reason to torment you.”

“Is that so?”

“In many years, the only bad thing you’ve done is intrude on a conversation with Albert. Although, in that case, the conversation intruded on your life. You aren’t to blame, but I appeared. You’re sensitive to the grievances of others, lad. Albert won’t even know about it, and I’m already tormenting you.”

“Are you, Conscience?” Oliver asks, his voice slightly scared.

“I prefer Connie, if you don’t mind.”

“All right, whatever you say,” the guy agrees, looking at the walls and the woman’s angry eye. “Why am I here?”

“If it hadn’t been for that conversation with Albert’s friend, we might not have seen each other for many more years. My advice to you, Oli: don’t take everything so much to heart and don’t blame yourself for everything you aren’t guilty of. The boys at the orphanage often offended you, and I had to torment you. And all because you considered yourself guilty that they were punished for it. Understand, this is justice. Yes, it doesn’t always come when it’s needed. And not always in the form it should. Sometimes it does come, though. Try to trust it; don’t force me to torment you for its work.”

“I’ll try,” the guy promises, although he doesn’t quite understand what or how he is supposed to do it.

“That’s right,” the woman is still hoping the guy will understand.

“But why did you prick me with the pitchfork just now?”

“That’s for Albert,” Connie smiles a crooked smile.

“But you said I wasn’t to blame.”

“But you considered yourself guilty. So I tormented you. What else was I supposed to do? With other people, I observe all the injustices, all the horrors they commit against others, and no one ever calls on me. I can’t torment them because of that, but I ought to teach every one of them a lesson,” Connie looks tenderly at the chainsaw. “In some, I’ve long since died altogether; I had to disappear from their minds. I like those who try to negotiate with me best of all. They promise all sorts of things, swear, offer a share. In the end, nothing changes. I know everything about them, and they continue to do what they were doing. I try to torment them, but they have immunity to me. If I still manage to break through the iron barriers of their nerves, then they definitely don’t have it easy. I squeeze every last bit of soul out of them. Many can’t sleep afterward, swallowing handfuls of medicine. But what can I do? It’s my direct duty. I didn’t force them to act that way. Common sense and their hearts tried to dissuade them, but those guys haven’t listened to anyone for a long time. Avarice, Anger, and old man Deceit are in favor now.”

“Why is everything like this? Why do they listen to them and not to common sense and you?”

“They turn out to be more convincing. They offer various easy paths to acquiring the things a person desires. People only seem strong on the outside. In reality, few people have the right backbone. They are susceptible to the influence of Deceit and his friends. When someone whispers something to a person to do, they think it’s their inner voice or reason speaking. They obediently follow the instructions, even though they know they shouldn’t do that.

“And can nothing be done about it?” the guy tries not to lose hope for better changes.

“Spiritual strength is needed for that. You aren’t falling for their tricks, are you?”

“I must admit, Anger and Deceit are quite convincing in their words and actions. I believed them for a time.”

“Because you took them for friends, since they are in your mind.”

“Probably so,” Oli ponders.

“If someone is closest to you and says plausible things in a friendly tone, it absolutely doesn’t mean they’re your friend. And vice versa. Enemies often turn out to be closer than friends, which is why they influence human lives so much.”

“I’ve already figured that out,” Oli sighs heavily.

“You figured it out in time. I told you, lucky guy,” Connie brushes the tip of a saber with her finger. The clang of sharp metal rings through the room.

“Yes, right, lucky guy. Can’t put it any other way,” unintentional sarcasm flies through the guy’s voice.

“Just don’t stray from the right path and don’t force me to torment you an extra time,” she asks for her own sake. “I don’t want to.”

“All right, Connie. I’ll try,” the guy promises with a smile.

“You certainly try,” Conscience’s face transforms, evening out, becoming kinder. All the sharp objects on the walls hide behind heavy black curtains.

“Maybe you can at least tell me where to go?” Oli hopes for a hint again.

“Follow the right path, and you will certainly get to where you need to go,” such hints are not very helpful; they only make him think more.

“And how do I find this right path?”

“You’ve already found it, Oli,” Conscience hints. “Relax and boldly walk forward.”

“Forward where?”

“In the literal sense of the word. Forward,” Connie smiles, stepping aside out of Oli’s way.

“That way?” he clarifies, looking at the doorway that appears as the curtains slide apart.

“Yes, that way,” Connie confirms seriously.

“Okay,” the guy whispers uncertainly, taking the first step toward the dark opening.

“Walk on more boldly; there’s nothing scary there,” Conscience encourages. “Or there is,” she adds with a laugh, amusing herself. Since she couldn’t torment him, she might as well laugh.

“Well, thank you,” Oli quips playfully. He steps into the darkness of the doorway.

The heart beats faster. The heartbeat is felt throughout the body. He sees nothing. The surroundings are empty. Dark spots move against a white background. When the spots move close and touch him, he feels pain and oppression. He feels panic and fear eating away at his soul from the inside. Anxiety consumes his thoughts. All he wants is to run far away from here and hide safely from all these spots. The throbbing, stinging, burning, crushing, chilling, and cutting pain grow stronger and more unbearable. His throat tightens, and it becomes hard to breathe. His muscles turn to stone, and he cannot move.

“You won’t surrender?” a new, unfamiliar figure asks disappointedly, emerging from one of the dark spots.

“No. I will get used to the pain. It’s not the first time,” Oli tries to speak calmly.

“You can’t get used to pain,” the new figure states confidently.

“That’s what weaklings say,” the guy replies with a sneer, making it clear that he will not give up, no matter what.

“How, then, do the strong speak?” the figure asks curiously.

“The strong don’t speak; they conquer the pain in their body, soul, and mind.”

“So, you are strong and not afraid of pain?”

“Why be afraid of it? You must conquer it, not feed it with fear.”

“You’ve changed, Oli,” the man’s voice holds surprised respect. “For the better. I don’t recognize you.”

“And I don’t recognize you,” the guy says honestly, calmly enduring the painful conversation. “The pain is gradually retreating. It’s becoming easier to breathe.”

“Fear,” the figure introduces himself briefly.

“Then what does pain have to do with it?” Oli does not hide his surprise.

“It has to do with the fact that people fear pain in everything most of all. They fear anything that can cause them pain, physical or emotional.”

“What are these spots?” the guy follows the black masses moving around with his eyes.

“That’s how you saw the fears that used to scare you. Ordinary people see snakes, spiders, clowns. They stand on the edge of a cliff when they fear heights. One was terrified of hamsters—a strange fellow,” Fear smiles. “For you, they are just spots; you don’t know what might cause pain looks like. You feared pure pain itself. Not the silliest fear.”

“Why am I here?”

“You were momentarily scared by everything you saw in the abode of Conscience. And fear, as you know, appears instantly and grows with every second. If you don’t overcome it immediately, it consumes a person’s mind and consciousness completely. You overcame your fears, which is why we are simply chatting.”

“If this is just a chat, why did I feel so much pain?”

“How can you look fear in the eye without feeling pain?” Fear smiles like the master of the situation.

“If I overcame my fears, then why am I here?”

“There are no people who fear absolutely nothing.”

“What is it that I fear?” he asks, realizing that Fear certainly knows the answer.

“I think you know yourself.”

“Please state my fears out loud. You are better informed than I am,” the guy politely asks, to avoid wasting time guessing. Geloff taught him that.

“You have friends whom you fear losing. They are the most valuable things in your life. More than just friends.”

“How do you know?” Oli is not surprised at all.

“Everyone knows that. They have penetrated deep into your consciousness. Your Heart talks about them constantly. Your Mind got tired of it and fell asleep. Now, your Heart governs all your decisions and behavior. Didn’t you realize that yourself?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. I am just looking for my friends and worrying about them.”

“Yes, I feel that,” Fear confirms, closing his eyes. “Calm down. I’ll tell you a secret: nothing bad will happen to them.”

“That’s good news,” Oli sighs with relief.

“Don’t be afraid of anything; it’s pointless. I’m telling you this with my authority.”

“Good, thank you. That’s a wonderful opinion. It’s much calmer in my soul when Fear tells me not to be afraid,” Oli smiles, happy that his friends will be alright. Unless, of course, Deceit got to Fear.

“Who but Fear knows best how to deal with it?”

“That’s true. Thank you for the advice.”

“We live in the same world. We must help each other, or we will all perish.”

“That’s for sure. And will Fear by chance disclose another secret to me?”

“You want to know where they are?” the painful figure guesses.

“Yes, that is exactly what I wanted to ask.”

“I can tell you one thing,” Fear looks around as if afraid of being overheard and punished. “You’re close.”

“That’s encouraging,” Oli smiles. “Thank you for the peace of mind.”

“I’m glad I could calm you,” Fear replies with a smile.

“I assume I must continue my journey by guess again?”

“You understand correctly. Don’t be afraid of anything,” Fear encourages, gradually turning back into a dark spot.

All the spots, growing lighter, disappear. Only the pure white walls remain. No doors, tunnels, or pipes. Nothing and no one. And now, try to guess where to go. It is something new every time. You never guess where the next entrance and exit are. And how does one choose here with no options? Choice did not say this, but he should have warned me. Valuable information right now. Alas, it is unknown. He walks around the room. He runs his hands over the walls, jumps in place, even rolls and crawls on the floor. Nothing. He sits, and then simply lies down on the floor. He relaxes. It is so nice and calm. Purity, simplicity, nothing superfluous.

“It is nice, isn’t it?” the person lying beside him says, with his arms and legs also spread out.

“Yes, it is nice,” Oli agrees. Their thoughts align.

“It would be even calmer if I were not thinking at all,” the person lying beside him says dreamily.

“That is for sure,” they both smirk.

“It is fine. Thinking is useful sometimes. To keep from getting lost in silent worlds, you need to engage your brain and think. Not to come up with anything, but simply not to forget how it is done. It is hard to remember if you lose the knack. Some people do not want to turn their brains on afterward. They realize it is calmer and quieter that way.”

“My brain is not working anymore,” Oli calmly realizes, without looking at his floor-mate once.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I do not know who you are. And my brain is not producing a single option,” Oli answers indifferently.

“That is not difficult. And not particularly important. I am Peace. My full name is Calmness, but I do not like formality. The simpler, the calmer.”

“I did not ponder it for a second. That, I confess honestly, has never happened before.”

“It had to happen sometime,” Peace smiles calmly. “Your brain has been zeroed out.”

“What does that mean?” the guy is no longer surprised or worried by anything.

“Do you see this room?”

“I do,” Oli looks at the white walls.

“It is white, clean, there is nothing superfluous here, not a hint of anything. In the same way, your brain has freed itself from everything that was bothering it. Your thoughts are pure. This is the start of a new stage in your life. Try not to clutter your brain with unnecessary thoughts; then it will always be nice, calm, and bright in your head.”

“Okay, I will try. And what do I do now?”

“Just relax. Lie down and enjoy it.”

“All right,” Oli follows Peace’s advice.

They lie on the white floor of the white room. They think about nothing. Completely. You can do this at any moment in your life. Just lie down on the floor, fully relax. Imagine a white room, and let no thoughts approach. Just forget about everything and everyone. Lie in silence and peace, thinking of nothing. Enjoy the moment.

And when you leave your snow-white room, do not let dirty thoughts into it. Preserve the purity of your mind. You immediately notice how living becomes easier and brighter. Anyone can zero out. Some people are afraid, some think they will not succeed. And some people have so many unnecessary thoughts in their heads that the thought of peace and zeroing out gets lost among them.

In complete silence, Oli closes his eyes. It is empty there, too—nothing superfluous, not a single thought. He can’t just lie here forever, even though it is so pleasant. He needs to find Mike and Mia. They are not feeling this good and peaceful right now on the edge of this imaginary world. He opens his eyes as he stands up. The white room is gone. He is standing on the roof of a train that is speeding along. He knows that sound and the smell of smoke.

Once, they went on an excursion to a picturesque town to see an ancient castle. Everyone admired it, gazing at a beauty that no one could ever describe in words. But for Oli, the trip was just for the sake of the journey. He was happy simply to have gotten out of the orphanage, if only for one day.

The boy hears the clang of the heavy wheels and the steam engine’s whistle, but he does not know what trains look like. Mike once made a train out of clouds to show him. In reality—even a made-up reality—the train is much more beautiful. Oli is glad he is on the roof. Yes, it is dangerous, but it is worth it.

The train rushes across a stone bridge, beneath which is an endless abyss. Something appears on his back. Two straps from a backpack are on his shoulders. A sudden gust of cold wind throws the boy off the train. Now, this is a little frightening. This fall is not as calm and safe as it was in the indefinite world. He can see the ground.

He remembers the bag on his back. He instinctively pulls the ring on one of the straps. It does not work. He yanks the second one sharply. The reserve parachute opens. He pulls up sharply just above the ground. When his feet touch the soil, the parachute disappears, and a sport motorcycle appears beneath him. Stewie often talked about it, moving Oli’s hands through the air, outlining the contours of the invisible iron dream. The sound is similar, too.

His hand naturally twists the throttle. The motorcycle pops a wheelie. All the bumps, holes, and climbs easily yield to the powerful engine and the grippy tires, which scatter clumps of dirt, grass, and stones in all directions. He rides up a ramp and flies forward with the motorcycle.

Instead of a solid surface, there is now an ocean beneath him. He and his friends spent a lot of time on the cloud bridge. There was always an ocean below them, but no one ever swam in it. It was scary. Now, he realizes it is inevitable.

The boy falls into the water with a splash. In the depths of the water, he finds himself among the Prophonids with eyes as deep as the ocean itself. These friendly creatures play with him like a ball. The little ones scatter to make way for a Dibusai, or a whale, as Mike calls it, keeping closer to the real world. The giant catches Oli and flicks its tail. They fly out of the water together.

The Dibusai stays on the cloud, and the boy jumps back, seeing nothing but the ocean. He has no choice but to hope some way to find his friends will appear. A two-seater plane flies between the sky and the water. Oli lands in the pilot’s seat. In the co-pilot’s seat is a person with a fearless expression. He likes danger; he enjoys it. The boy does not know what to think.

“Now, this is what I call living!” the co-pilot praises.

“What? That reckless jump?” Oli asks in surprise, recovering from the sensations he has experienced.

“You have no idea how calculated it was. You decided to do it yourself. You weren’t afraid.”

“A wise acquaintance of mine advised me to not be afraid of anything.”

“Good advice,” the co-pilot encourages. “And didn’t you enjoy it?”

“Of course, I did! But my heart is pounding right out of my chest.”

“That’s adrenaline. A sign you’re still alive,” the person in the second seat laughs.

“How do you know?”

“I’m Risk. And I know everything about it!” the co-pilot with the fearless expression answers contentedly.

“Now it’s clear,” the boy understands why such an adventure happened after the calm white room.

“What’s the point of living without taking risks? Especially since they say you’re a fearless fellow.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Oli replies, sounding doubtful.

“Fear said that you still harbor slight worries, but there’s no fear in you. And I can see it. Admit it, you like taking risks.”

“Yes, you’re right, it’s great.”

“And you definitely want to do it again.”

“I do,” Oli admits with a smile.

“Then you’ll like this, too,” Risk enters a dead loop. The boy is pressed into his seat. Everything flashes past. He loses his orientation in space. His thoughts get muddled. Oli holds on while Risk laughs. He definitely likes it. “Well?” the co-pilot asks, completing the aerobatic maneuver.

“Not bad. That’s the one thing I won’t want to repeat,” Oli answers tensely.

“That means we need to do it again,” Risk spirals the plane again with a loud laugh. “Now, jump!” the co-pilot cries merrily, leaving the plane at the top of the loop.

“Where?” the boy asks after him. “We don’t have parachutes!”

“You didn’t think about that when you jumped off the cloud!” Risk laughs.

“Ah!” Oli shouts, leaping out of the falling plane.

“Risk is what defines brave people and shows who is a true person in life,” the co-pilot shouts, leveling out in the air.

“And what do you say about me?” Oli asks. “What kind of person am I? True or not?”

“Now I’m proud to know you!” Risk shakes Oliver’s hand, nodding in recognition of his courage.

“Thank you!” the boy shouts, fighting the air streaming between them at freefall speed.

“Thank you! I believe again that I live in the same world as a worthy person!”

“And now I know I’m a worthy person,” Oli laughs happily.

“Always know it, live up to it, and never doubt it! Take a risk when you need to, and it will always be like that!”

“Thank you, Risk!”

“And one more thing!”

“Yes?” Oli waits for another encouraging phrase.

“Risk is not always about choosing to do something. Sometimes, it’s the courage to not do something. When the moment comes, think carefully before you take a risk.”

“Okay!”

“Good job! Good luck with your search! See you again!” Risk veers to the left and flies down alone.

“Thank you! See you later!” Oliver shouts one last time.

He shoots into the ocean like an arrow. Instead of water, fire blazes. The boy lands in the hottest part of the heat. And these are not like the embers that were in the house of Conscience. This is real fire, scorching the body and soul. He cannot endure it for long; he must get out. Oli makes his way through the burning flames. He remembers his conversation with Fear about pain. He tries to overcome it. He succeeds. Now the fire merely warms him. It is even pleasant. The heat gives way to frost. His body instantly stiffens. He recalls the heat. The ice that grips his body cracks, freeing the boy from the shackles of the cold element.

Hundreds of arrows fly at him. He tries to dodge them, but some still hit his body. He snaps them off so they do not impede his progress. He falls into a pit of snakes. Their bites are painful. He feels the venomous death spread through his veins and arteries. He wonders if snake venom can harm an imaginary body.

He climbs out, clutching at ledges on the wall. At the top, three boys approach him. He does not recognize any of them. Their faces are blurred and indistinct. When he hears the enemies’ first words, he recognizes them as the guys from the orphanage. It was these three who beat the boy more often than the others, always mocking him. Now he has a chance to take revenge for all the insults.

In Oliver’s hands is a club. Stewie gave him one when they were attacked. He said it was a bat for difficult situations. Oli never used it then. They were both beaten up. Now things must be different. The opponents’ faces reflect the desire to beat him up once again. They seem not to see the bat in his hands; they do not care.

Oli raises his arm to strike. He puts all his strength into the upcoming blow, all the anger that has been in his heart since his time at the orphanage, all the insults and humiliations. He pours all the negativity and hatred into a single movement. The bat strikes the floor between the boys with enormous force and power and shatters into splinters in every direction, ripping through the space.

Oli does not want revenge. He takes the opportunity to expel all the bad things that remained in his soul and heart since his first day at the orphanage. The enemies lose their bearings; they cannot do anything more. They vanish from Oli’s mind, which means they are leaving his personal world.

Taking another step forward, he runs into a stockade that appears under his feet right out of the ground. He manages to jump back. Otherwise, he would be impaled on a pike. A heavy, massive axe with a curved handle lies nearby. Cutting a passage here will take a lot of time, which he does not have. He revives the fire in his consciousness. He channels the destructive flame in a stream to the middle of the stockade. The wood gradually smolders and ignites, yielding to the confident pressure of the devouring fire. The axe was not needed. A smoldering ring forms in the fence, enough for him to pass through unimpeded. Oli carefully steps through the ring, avoiding the coals.

He finds himself in the driver’s seat on a soft cushion, in a car driving through a wooded area. The wheels hold the road uncertainly. There are many turns. He applies the brake. The pedal sinks to the floor without resistance; the brake is not working. The speed does not decrease, but only increases. Oli does not know what to do in such situations. He cannot drive, and he has never been behind the wheel before.

Headlights of another car appear around the next bend. The boy tries to swerve off the road. The car skids. His headlights cast light into the cabin of the oncoming car. A three-year-old child with big eyes, dark hair, and chubby cheeks sits in a child seat in the back. The child looks at the light, peering at the backs of their parents. Oli realizes that this is him, small in the child seat. Now is the fatal moment in his family’s life that will determine the boy’s difficult future. The headlights illuminate the faces of the driver and passenger. These are the most beautiful people he has ever seen. Oliver’s parents.

A strong desire to change everything surges within him. He sharply turns the steering wheel in the other direction. He remembers the whole life he has lived since that day. If he turns the wheel now, he will change everything. His parents will remain alive, the child’s eyes will be whole, and his sight will not leave him.

His father rushes to look to the right. His mother is sitting there, turning around to look back. The large brown eyes of the small child he was look at him. He takes his mother’s hand, whispering that he loves her. They look at little Oliver together. The headlights freeze in their car during a forceful impact.

Oli is back in his three-year-old body. His parents die before his big eyes, blinded by the last light. This is the last thing the boy sees. After that, only darkness. The boy sits on a cloud bridge in shock. He looks at the mirrored surface of the ocean. His reflection is there. The reflection of that three-year-old boy, seventeen years later. On the face of the guy Oli sees, there are not those smooth lines he felt when he touched his face. The brown eyes are just as big and beautiful. His cheeks have become smaller, no longer as chubby. His hair is still dark. The hairstyle is almost the same, only the hair is thicker. Oli smiles at himself for the first time.

Next to him on the bridge sit his best friends, Mike and Mia, with their legs dangling. Someone is standing behind them. Oli looks at his friends. In shock after the journey, not a single word can leave his troubled lips. Mike indicates with a warm gaze towards the man standing next to them. The boy looks at Mia. The girl nods, suggesting he should go to the man. Oliver stands up and approaches the man. They walk away from his best friends to talk privately.

“Hello, Oli,” the man in the dark cloak greets him calmly.

“Hello,” the boy replies with a faint voice.

“I am sorry you had to go through all of this.”

“I did not imagine meeting my friends like this,” Oliver says, looking at Mia and Mike.

“Yes, I know. We had to test you,” the man explains. “You had to see and accept your own nature, who you truly are. To understand that you are stronger than you seem. We had to make sure you were worthy.”

“Worthy of what?” Oliver interrupts, wanting to know the main purpose of such a difficult journey.

“Worthy of knowing the truth. By collective decision, everything was hidden for many years. Now we know that there is much light in your soul, despite the dark nature of the surrounding world. Now we all unanimously agree that your time has come to know your parents.”

“My parents,” the boy whispers, looking intently at the faces of Mike and Mia, who are getting up from the edge of the bridge.

“Hello, son,” Mike says to Oliver.

“Dad,” the boy feels as if the whole world is turning upside down, losing its former meaning.

“Hi, sweetie,” Mia hugs the bewildered Oliver.

“Mom, Dad! How I wanted to see you,” Oli hugs his parents tightly, squeezing his eyes shut.

“We know, son,” Mike says calmly, hugging Oli and Mia.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, upset, unable even to be angry at his best friends and parents.

“We weren’t allowed,” Mia regrets. “You heard yourself.”

“Who is it?” the boy wants to know who imposed such an important ban that concealed the truth from him.

“I am sorry, we cannot tell you that either,” Mike replies.

“It doesn’t matter,” Oliver leans his face onto his parents’ shoulders.

“Son, it’s time for you to return to the real world,” Mia whispers softly and affectionately.

“Yes, son, it’s time,” his father supports her, not wanting to let go of his son. Now that the boy knows the truth, it is even harder to part with him.

“All right, I’ll go,” Oliver obediently follows his parents’ advice. “But you won’t disappear when I leave?”

“No, of course not,” Mia calms her son with a smile.

“We will always be with you,” his father assures him, showing by his whole demeanor how precious his son is to them.

“That’s good,” the boy says more calmly. “I can’t be without you anymore.”

“Don’t worry, we are always near,” his mother hugs him again.

“I will come back as soon as I can!” promises a happy Oliver, trying to remember his parents’ faces better so he can recall them more often in real life.

“Goodbye, son,” Mia kisses the boy on the cheek.

“We will be waiting for you here,” his father gives his long-awaited, strong embrace.

“Goodbye, Mom and Dad,” Oliver closes his eyes on the cloud bridge of his imaginary world.

Oli returns to the real world. In the darkness, his parents’ faces glow. He gets out of bed. His feet find his slippers on the cool floor. With arms outstretched, he confidently makes his way through the apartment to get ready for the workday. He deliberately bought only a little furniture to keep from bumping into things. Only the essentials. He goes into the shower. He combs his hair by feel, standing in front of the mirror. He may not see his face, but now he can picture his reflection as it was in the ocean under the Cloud Bridge before he came back here. He smiles. For the first time in many years. The happy faces of his parents remain in his memory.

He approaches the wooden wardrobe at the end of the room. He selects a shirt. Every time he buys shirts at a store, he deliberately chooses a raised pattern so he can distinguish them in his closet. He tries it on, then asks what color it is. If everything fits, he buys it. Today, it is a white shirt, like the Cloud Bridge, with a tiny blue floral pattern, like his ocean. He always buys dark pants. He grabs a pair at random; they are all almost identical. He gets dressed and puts on his shoes. He ties the laces on his dress shoes. He picks up his folding cane, puts on his glasses. He confidently leaves the house.

He tries to tap his cane less often on the way so he does not bother others. He walks by memory. He lives a few blocks from a ballpoint pen factory. Oli is the absolute champion at assembling the finished products. He likes the work. He earns decent money thanks to his diligence. It is enough for housing, clothes, and food.

On Wednesdays, he goes to a café. He rarely visits, so he does not remember the route well. He has to tap his cane more often. All the workers at the factory are happy to see him, without exception. Oliver cannot see their smiles, but he can hear them. And now the young man knows that he has a beautiful smile. He smiles freely and welcomingly.

His entire workday passes in an excellent mood. He sets a new record. After all, he has his parents in front of his eyes the whole time. It is more fun to work and to live in general with them. After a wonderful day at work, he goes straight to the café after the factory. It is close by. Today is easier; he stumbles only twice. A man who smells of baked goods helps him cross the street. It seems to be the local baker. Smiling, he thanks the helpful man. He hears wishes for a good evening and returns the smile.

He enters the café. He asks the waiter where he can sit. A young woman tells him which side and which table is free. He measures the distance to his destination with his steps. He misses by one step. The waiter corrects him. He sits down on a soft, genuine leather sofa. He folds his cane. He puts it in his pants pocket so he does not forget it, as he did last time. That time, he confidently walked toward the exit and, walking by memory, covered half a block. When he remembered that it was not normal for him to walk so freely, he had to go back along the wall, searching for the lost cane. After that incident, he tries not to repeat his mistakes.

He orders coffee with milk. He only drinks coffee with milk on Wednesdays; usually, it is black tea with lemon. After meeting the baker on the road, he craves something sweet and baked. The waitress reads the menu to the rare, but regular, customer. He chooses a cranberry jam bun. He asks her not to sprinkle anything on it, so he does not stain his face.

The hot coffee with milk and the cranberry jam bun add happiness to his once-gloomy real life. He smells a familiar scent. Goosebumps spread across his body. Oli remembers only this aroma. Someone sits down in front of him. The girl takes the young man’s hand. It is her, the girl who danced with him on his birthday, on Valentine’s Day. The one, the only one, about whom Sympathy spoke.

“Is that you?” Oli asks, realizing he does not know the girl’s name.

“Yes, it is me,” the familiar sweet voice answers with a smile. “And is this you?” she asks jokingly.

“Yes, it is me,” the young man smiles too.

“Long time no see, Oli,” the girl strokes Oliver’s hand.

“Too long,” the young man replies, squeezing the girl’s delicate hand.

“You know, I came to the orphanage later. I was looking for you. They told me I was a month late. You had already moved then, but they would not tell me where.”

“I went to your school, too,” the young man admits. “I just did not know your name.”

“Cynthia,” the girl introduces herself.

“A pleasant, long-awaited name,” the young man whispers softly.

“Your name is Oliver? Did I remember correctly?” she clarifies the name she learned while dancing.

“Yes, I am Oli,” he confirms with a smile. It feels nice to hear his name from a pleasant girl.

“How did you expect to find me without knowing my name?”

“I remembered your scent,” Oliver answers importantly.

“Only the scent?” the girl asks, surprised.

“Yes, that is enough to recognize you at the right time in the right place.”

“Now I understand. And what do I smell like?” Cynthia asks with interest.

“Light,” Oliver answers with a warm smile.

Deprived of everything at the age of three, after seventeen long, difficult years, Oli finds a family, friends, and the love of his life. More precisely, Love found him. Three years later, Oliver and Cynthia marry for love, something the real world has long forgotten. A few more years later, two children are born into their family. The boy is named Mike, and the girl, Mia. Oli’s real life is filled with meaning and happiness. The young man visits the imaginary world regularly. His second life takes place there.

Cynthia now knows how to visit Oli’s imaginary world during dreams. It is here that Oli first saw his beloved’s face. She turns out to be even more beautiful than he imagined by touch. Mike and Mia, Oli’s parents and friends, are happy to have a beautiful and kind daughter-in-law. Most of the time, everyone spends their time on the Cloud Bridge. They often fly to the air islands to play with the fluffy millitau babies.

New friends, whom Oli found during his long journey, come to visit the bridge. The good-natured Alt happily spends time on the Cloud Bridge, swims in the ocean, and flies through the sky. The Dibusai giants cordially welcome the giant. Oli keeps his promise. Peter and Kelly now have their own beautiful, cozy home, hidden from everyone. Their private life has truly become private. Lifine is added to the imaginary world. A few years later, Stewie, his best friend from the real world, joins them. Still quite young, he arrives here, just like Oliver’s parents. All the Jaidams, imprisoned in the black ice of Oli’s dream, thaw out. His most precious dreams come true. Except for one. The black ice holds his last innermost desire. To see in the real world.

Oliver’s life is settled, thanks to his journey through his inner world and consciousness. He has come to terms with himself, found his parents, and established his own family. A new life has begun where he has everything. Yet, the last black ice cube, holding the dream of sight, still hangs in the sky.

Oliver sometimes looks at the black ice block, wondering how fate will turn if the cherished dream comes true. The last cube hovers motionless near the cloud bridge. And now it won’t leave until it chooses to. Actually, it’s strange. Usually, jaidams float right past, but this one has been hanging there since the morning and hasn’t moved. Most likely, there’s nothing terrible about it, but it’s already evening. This definitely hasn’t happened before.

“Are you still thinking about that jaidam?” Cynthia sits down next to her husband.

“Yes. I can’t help but think about it when I see it all the time,” Oliver says with a sad voice, looking at the black cube.

“Do you think it will leave?” the affectionate girl slips her arm through her husband’s.

“It will leave,” the guy replies uncertainly.

“But when?” Right now, the girl wants most of all for the jaidam to go far away and stop tormenting Oliver.

“When the last dream comes true,” the guy answers resignedly.

“Then it should already be gone.”

“Why?”

“You can see,” Cynthia explains, trying to ease his worries.

“I can see here,” he clarifies, indicating that the dream has not yet come true. “But not in the real world. This dream is from reality. Until I gain sight there, the jaidam will grow from the rising disappointment and despair.”

“And what will happen then?” the prospect of despair alarms the girl.

“There’s a high probability that the cube will grow to the size of this world and destroy it.”

“Where did you get that idea?”

“It’s constantly growing. And lately, much faster. Reality predominates in a person’s life, which means it can be greater than the imaginary world.”

“Are you sure about that? Reality is limited, but fantasy isn’t,” Cynthia counters, trying to temper the panic in Oliver’s thoughts.

“You’re right, but I'm considering all options,” and the guy has very few options. And none of them are bright.

“This is the most unpleasant one,” Cynthia says sadly, looking out at the ocean.

“I agree. But what if it is possible? Then the cube will become bigger than my world because it’s my desire. It could take over my entire consciousness.”

“Yes, you’re right, it’s possible,” the girl agrees, cornered by her husband’s gloomy reasoning. “Do you want it that badly?”

“No,” Oliver lies, tearing his gaze away from the cherished dream with difficulty.

“Honestly? The jaidam gives you away,” the girl points confidently at the growing black cube.

“I do want it. Everyone around me sees the real world. And I don’t even know what that’s like,” Oli rests his elbows on his knees, puts his head in his hands. He looks into the endless ocean.

“You have more than the rest of humanity. You have your own world, created according to your desire and imagination.”

“But they can see the real world, and I can’t,” the desperate guy insists on the problem.

“This world is much better than the real one,” Cynthia tries to convince him. “Trust me.”

“I do trust you, but I want to see for myself,” Oli kisses Cynthia, gets up from the bridge, and flies away. The girl just watches him go. She understands that everyone sometimes needs to be alone to sort things out. But there’s also the danger of delving too deeply into problems. And the jaidam keeps getting bigger. The Dibusai wound themselves, brushing against it when they jump out of the water. The cube shifts slightly, then returns to the same spot. The cloud bridge shudders in an unfamiliar way, alerting the girl.

“I'm sorry, the bridge is shaking because of me,” Alt confesses guiltily, approaching Cynthia.

“It’s good if it’s because of you,” the girl greets the giant with a sad smile.

“Why good?” Alt is surprised. Things like this usually push everyone away from him. Especially since the girl is noticeably alarmed.

“If it’s not because of you, then this world doesn’t have much time left.”

“Do you think Oli’s world is shaken?” Alt asks cautiously.

“Don’t you notice how the bridge reacts? It didn’t used to be like this, you know that yourself. Even you are practically weightless here.”

“I know,” the giant agrees sadly. “Do you think it’s all because of that jaidam?” he looks with apprehension at the black ice cube.

“More likely, it’s because of what’s inside,” Cynthia looks at the jaidam, trying to figure out how to deal with it.

“And what is there?” the giant asks cautiously.

“Don’t you know?” the girl is surprised.

“No one told me,” Alt admits modestly. “And I was too shy to ask myself.”

“It holds Oliver’s last dream. The biggest one. The most cherished one. It turns out,” she adds in a sad whisper, lowering her eyes to the frozen black reflection in the ocean.

“What could he dream of more than you and his whole family?” Alt is surprised, unable to imagine anything better or more precious.

“You’re our family too,” Cynthia smiles warmly.

“Thank you, that’s nice,” Alt’s golden cheeks blush slightly.

“Oliver has dreamed of seeing since he was three,” the girl explains, trying to understand better.

“But he sees everything.”

“He sees here,” she says, using her husband’s words and putting herself in his place. “But he wants to look at everything in reality, like normal people.”

“Is that possible?”

“In theory, yes. In practice, it’s unlikely and risky,” the girl is disappointed that this is beyond her power.

“What could stop it?” the giant asks more resolutely.

“It’s an expensive surgery. Everything could go wrong. And this world could disappear,” the sad Cynthia explains.

“Can I help in any way?” It’s hard for Alt to see the girl in such a state.

“Only if you can help figure out where to get enough money for the treatment. If it even helps.”

“How much is needed?” Avarice inquires cautiously.

“That much,” Cynthia writes a sum with her finger on the bridge. Alt watches intently. The cloud mist hides the fatal number.

“Quite a bit,” the giant whispers, shifting his gaze to the jaidam. “We’ll figure something out.”

“I doubt it,” Cynthia smiles lightly and sadly, knowing it’s practically impossible. And for them, completely impossible.

“Well, don’t doubt it! I'm Avarice, remember? I'm made of thoughts of wealth. And right now, money is needed for an important cause,” Alt encourages her confidently.

“I'm sorry, I keep forgetting,” the girl smiles, running her hand across the giant’s golden shoulder. The cloud bridge makes the gold shine brilliantly from Cynthia’s touch, in thanks for the support.

Alt retreats to his space to figure out how to find the necessary sum. It’s a shame he can’t sell the precious stones that are simply lying around underfoot, unused. For the sake of his friends, he’s ready to sell himself off piece by piece. But who would buy a fictional gold nugget, even a three-meter one? Perhaps Anger knows; he’s more familiar with the human world.

Without wasting time, Avarice goes to Anger’s domain for advice. He has to make his way through new barriers that arose after Oli’s return from the long journey through his consciousness. The Vices have walled themselves off so that good cannot penetrate the dark places. It’s surprising that Alt can pass through. The barriers were constructed in such a way that even he was supposed to be denied entry. Yet, now he moves through without complication.

Anger’s abode has become even gloomier with rage. The tar now isn’t just oozing from the walls; it pours like waterfalls, disappearing into the boggy, shifting floor. Alt barely finds an island for himself so he doesn’t drown. For a while, they remain silent. The guest out of politeness and fear, while Anger doesn’t notice that anyone has come to him. Anger, hatred, and indignation consume the master of the dark part. Everything now is unnoticeable and unimportant. His thoughts contain only plans for revenge, the spread of Anger’s power, and the complete takeover of Oli’s consciousness. Anger sits on his throne, his legs dangling over the side, his back to the newcomer.

Alt stands silently for a little longer. He thought he would be noticed, but that doesn’t happen. With a soft bass, he makes his presence known. No reaction. He makes the bass rougher and louder. No attention. He shouts as loudly as he can. The walls tremble, the tar waterfalls twist and warp. A deep crack appears on one wall. Anger calmly turns to Alt. He surveys him with a scornful glance, raising one eyebrow. He sets his feet straight. He lifts himself up in the chair. He settles back more comfortably.

“Why have you come?” Anger asks calmly, carefully concealing his true feelings.

“I’m here on business,” Alt replies, calming down.

“I’d be surprised if you stopped by just for a chat,” the master of the gloomy part smirks.

“I need your help,” Avarice says directly, not hiding his intentions.

“You? Or your master?” Anger clarifies with malice.

“Oliver is not my master,” Alt declares firmly and confidently.

“Then who is he?” Anger stares intently at the giant, waiting to hear his personal opinion.

“Oli is my friend,” Alt answers solidly.

“Understand this: you’re a part of his imagination, which he doesn’t even use out of necessity.”

“Oliver is selfless. And that is one of the signs of true friendship.”

“Truly selfless?” Anger stares closely at Alt.

“Yes,” the giant confidently replies.

“Then why are you here? As far as I know, you are Avarice. There is nothing selfless in your life,” Anger reminds him, trying to subtly hit a nerve.

“Oli doesn’t know about my visit,” the giant admits.

“Just look at that, Avarice is starting to deceive and betray his master,” Anger laughs, throwing his head back against the throne.

“Not a master, but a friend! And not betraying, but trying to help!” the walls shake with the indignant shout. The crack in the wall grows wider.

“Quiet, what’s with you? That’s life,” the wary Anger says seriously, calming him down and glancing at the crack. “Betrayal and deceit are normal things now. Especially among friends.”

“Stop it! I came for help, not to listen to that!” Alt interrupts. The walls shake even more. Light shows through the crack. The tar pours out in a thin stream, darkening its path.

“I told you, calm down,” Anger says with a smile, rising from the black throne. “Calmly tell me what happened and how I can help you.”

“Oliver is blind,” Alt begins to explain the situation.

“Well, you don’t say,” Anger sneers, approaching the giant across the shaky floor.

“He can see here,” he continues, ignoring Anger’s attitude. “But he wants to see in the real world with his own eyes. Jaidam, with this desire, has stopped near the bridge and is constantly growing.”

“And what do I have to do with it?” Anger asks indifferently, quietly gloating.

“If the cube doesn’t stop growing, it will be the end of our whole world,” Alt seriously voices the worst prospect for everyone.

“And what’s in it for me?” Anger smirks.

“You live in this world, too. If this world is gone, you’ll be gone too,” the giant calmly reminds him.

“At least you’ll be gone too, and that will make me happy.”

“And you are ready to vanish yourself, just so others feel bad?” Alt asks in surprise.

“You catch on fast. It’s a shame they call you empty-headed,” Anger jumps up and lightly taps Alt’s head with his fist. A clang rings out. “Or maybe they speak the truth.”

“Stop it!” Anger and irritation scream in the giant’s voice. The wall now has an entire window, not just a crack. The flow of tar outward intensifies.

“You’re doing well. You came for help, but you’re helping,” Anger approaches the fissure. He looks outside with satisfaction.

“Since I’m helping you, then you help me,” Alt seizes on the words.

“Fine,” Anger agrees seriously. “How can I help you?”

“We need to find the money for Oliver’s operation,” the giant voices what he considers the biggest problem.

“You’ve decided to restore his actual sight?” he guesses, pondering.

“Yes,” Alt firmly replies.

“Noble of you. But I repeat. What do I have to do with it?” Anger sits back down on the throne of blackened metal.

“Help me figure out how to find the money. You are more familiar with the human world.”

“What about his wife? Cynthia, I think. That girl is more familiar with the world of reality than I am. Let her figure it out.”

“Cynthia is familiar, but you know the world from the inside, and you know people much better.”

“You’re right there. Pleasantly right,” Anger smiles smugly.

“Will you help?” Alt asks hopefully.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Life in this world,” the giant understands that the threat is the same for everyone. And the conditions are equal.

“Not enough,” Anger bargains, valuing his assistance far higher than the entire imaginary world.

“What else do you want?”

“A portion of your world and your wealth.”

“Fine,” Alt agrees without a second thought.

“You don’t know how to negotiate,” Anger notes disappointedly. “You lack practice. That’s Oliver’s problem. Otherwise, he would have earned new eyes for himself already.”

“Now is not the time for bargaining and arguments,” the agitated giant says seriously.

“There’s always time to bargain,” Anger insists. “All right, I’ll talk to Deceit.”

“Why?” Alt is surprised. “He wasn’t mentioned.”

“Believe me, that guy knows much better how to achieve the desired result in the world of people.”

“The main thing is that it helps,” Alt agrees, feeling the hopelessness of the situation. “Don’t even think about being sly or deceiving us. You’ll only deceive yourselves that way,” Alt warns.

“I’ve already thought about it,” Anger replies in a spiteful voice.

“That’s enough!” Alt flushes with anger. An identical fissure appears in the adjacent wall. Even more tar pours into the neighboring section.

“Quiet down, big guy! I was joking!” Anger laughs. “You’ll embody my plans even faster than I can manage myself.”

“What plans?” Alt clarifies.

“Pay no attention, those are just my unfunny jokes,” Anger dismisses him with a wave. “You should return to your part. Think carefully about what you’ll give me from it.”

“There’s little time, think fast,” Alt urges maliciously, barely recognizing himself. Serious matters change many people significantly.

“Relax. Go back to your place in peace. And I’ll think about what can be done,” Anger says with a sly smile, watching the giant leave.

The wall where Alt exits doesn’t fully close. Black tar seeps through to the other side. In his surge of anger, Alt doesn’t notice how the crimson raidums blacken as the tar progresses deeper into the greedy section. He walks to his secluded corner on the far side, leaving small kaidums in his wake. The tar spares them no mercy either.

He arrives at the secluded spot. He pushes aside a mountain of rubies. The giant’s jewels are hidden within it. Gifts from Oliver’s parents. He doesn’t tell the boy that he’s been keeping them all this time, waiting for the right moment, but the moment never comes. Everything only gets worse. Until he gives them away, he plays with them himself. Even a giant sometimes enjoys feeling like a child. At any age, gifted toys bring joy.

This sustains Alt. Now he needs the company of his plush friends. Approaching Oli is dangerous; he might run into an argument. Cynthia is worried about her husband, all nerves. It’s up to him alone to cope with the tension. It’s scary to think what awaits him if Oli and Cynthia find out who he went to negotiate with. It’s strange how they still don’t know. Anger isn’t simple either. A big prize is at stake for him and, overall, survival in Oliver’s consciousness. He wonders what Deceit will suggest. Was this visit a mistake? He asked the wrong person for help, and the wrong persons are helping.

Having waited for Alt to leave, Anger rushes across the shifting floor to see the tar of malice seeping into the surrounding world. His joy knows no bounds. He hasn’t even done anything yet, and things are going so well. The actions he’s about to take are sure to bring a rich harvest, perhaps even make him the master of fertile fields. He changes into his best suit for negotiations and goes to call on Deceit. His old friend greets him with a cunning smile. They exchange glances and retreat into the walls of the master of the world of Deceit’s private office. The room’s color and shape constantly shift.

Anger settles into a chair that alternates between soft and hard. The only things that don’t change in the office are Deceit’s own chair and desk, so as not to irritate the host. Deceit’s appearance is truthful only to Anger. Only with him can Deceit be honest, though still cautious. If you met Deceit on the street, you might take him for a rather pleasant person.

He’s a tall, handsome brunette with a neat haircut, a glint in his eyes, an unnaturally straight nose, and naturally beautiful lips. In this, Anger is eclipsed by Deceit’s brighter demeanor. The master of the world of Deceit offers a drink. Flattery is his favorite beverage—sweet, light, and leaving a pleasant aftertaste.

“I can guess what brought you here, of course,” Deceit begins, offering Flattery. “But you’d better tell me yourself what business you’ve come about.”

“Do you remember our mutual acquaintance, Alt?”

“How could I forget my own uncle?” Deceit grins.

“Our respected uncle, however, is ashamed of his own nephews,” Anger says contemptuously.

“Did he offend you?” Deceit asks, surprised.

“Yes! By trying to bail out our hapless creator.”

“Oliver’s in trouble?” the master of the world of Deceit guesses.

“And you don’t know about it?” Anger tries to figure out if his brother is truly unaware or just pretending.

“What should I know about?” Deceit asks seriously.

“The last ice cube has stopped near the cloud bridge and it’s growing. I caught a glimpse of it. I have to say, at this rate, we’ll soon need help ourselves,” Anger admits. “Soon there just won’t be any room left for us.”

“Don’t panic,” Deceit soothes. “What’s in the cube?”

“The final desire. Oliver wants to see.”

“But he sees everything just like us,” Deceit says, looking at the imaginary world through the office window.

“He wants to see the real world,” Anger clarifies, realizing this is the key factor.

“Why would he want to see reality?” Deceit wonders. “There isn’t much good or pleasant there that anyone would want to see. And even less so in Oliver’s city.”

“Maybe his Envy is egging him on?” suggests Anger, who came for serious talks. “Everyone understands that the real world is pretty gloomy. And Oliver is always in the gloom, unless he’s in our world. He thinks life will get better. He envies everyone.”

“Perhaps,” Deceit whispers thoughtfully. “Have you talked to Mother yet?”

“Didn’t have time. I thought we’d go to her together,” Anger hems and haws uncertainly.

“Too scared to go alone?” Deceit grins.

“Do you often visit Envy?” Anger asks sarcastically.

“Yes, you’re right. Mother doesn’t like guests,” Deceit agrees. “Well, let’s go. We’ll pay her a visit, or she’ll be envious that we visit each other but not her.”

“Let’s go. But you go in first!” Anger shouts, taking his place in line.

“Why me?” Deceit protests, sounding offended.

“You’re the older brother!” Anger happily replies.

“And you’re the younger! I always thought Mother loved you more.”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet? She loves neither of us equally,” Anger laughs.

“What makes you say that?” Deceit looks at his brother in disagreement.

“She just envies us,” Anger explains.

“What’s there to envy?” Deceit wonders, trying to understand.

“Everything we have and she doesn’t. And she has none of what we have.”

“But we’re all different and each of us has our own thing.”

“Well, try explaining that to Envy,” Anger smirks. “She envies everything, even without a reason.”

“Only one thing surprises me,” Deceit says, a little embarrassed.

“What?” Anger immediately asks.

“What’s the point of envying your own children? I’m happy for each of my daughters. All my Affairs are talented and successful. I’m proud of them.”

“Well, you’re comparing apples and oranges,” Anger drawls. “You have a wife.”

“So what? Situation also loves our Affairs; they’re our daughters too.”

“The point is that Envy is a single mother. If you remember, she raised us personally. Now everyone has their own family, and she has no one.”

“What about her brother, our uncle Alt?” Deceit reminds him.

“You know how it is. Uncle tries not to deal with us. He’s afraid of letting the creator down.”

“I know, he’s such a good-natured soul. You can understand him too. He won’t go against his own beliefs. Have you spoken to your wife recently?” Deceit brings up another difficult subject for his brother.

“Offence won’t talk to me.”

“What happened this time?” Deceit looks at his brother sympathetically.

“Can’t you guess?” Anger grumbles.

“She’s offended again?” Deceit laughs without waiting for an answer. “If your daughters have inherited her personality, then your whole life is going to be like this.”

“I’m trying to raise our Quarrels to be like me,” Anger replies proudly.

“Maybe it’s better if they’re like their mother? That would be much quieter,” Deceit says carefully.

“Maybe it would be better. It’ll be too noisy if the Quarrels have explosive tempers like mine,” Anger agrees.

“We’re here,” Deceit says, looking at their mother’s house.

Envy’s conical tower is covered in moss amidst thorny weeds. The winding vines of interest in life have become frightening and aloof under the influence of the house’s mistress. There is no entrance here. The essence of Envy is gradual seepage. So, the guests have to do the same. Anger and Deceit are used to this from childhood, so they easily seep through the thin walls that fragilely separate the poison of envy from the rest of the world.

Their mother greets her own children with a heavy gaze, but not an envious one. She looks at Anger with malice, and at Deceit with distrust. She wants to show that she has missed her children. Then her gaze becomes habitually envious. Envy can never hide her true feelings because she is one hundred percent composed of them.

“My children actually remembered me,” Envy says sarcastically.

“We always remember,” Deceit replies.

“You remember, but you just don’t come to visit,” Mother complains, taking offense. “Children often visit others, but not me. It’s even embarrassing in front of everyone. As if they have children and I don’t.”

“Mom, don’t start, please,” Anger says plaintively.

“What do you mean, ‘don’t start’?” Envy objects. “Everyone has a family life, and I don’t. My children’s children are always with them, and no one is ever with me.”

“All right, Mom. We’ll come to see you more often,” Deceit soothes her.

“I doubt it,” Mother says mistrustfully. “And I hope so,” she adds, looking at her children. “And bring your families! I want to chat with my daughters-in-law too, to find out how their lives are going. To play with my granddaughters.”

“All right, we will,” Deceit agrees. “But right now, we’ve come to you on business.”

“I knew it!” Envy bursts out. “The only reason my own sons would come to their mother is on business. Otherwise, they wouldn’t even remember.”

“Mom, don’t take offense,” Deceit whispers gently, hugging his mother.

“This is a joint venture,” Anger supports him. He also hugs Envy.

“Just tell me already,” Envy pulls a deliberately offended face.

“We wanted to know, are you fueling Oliver’s desire to see?”

“But he already sees,” Envy is surprised by the question, just like everyone else.

“He sees here, but in reality, he is blind,” Anger explains.

“Yes, it’s hard for him if he can’t see in reality,” Envy muses. “Yet everyone else sees,” she whispers enviously.

“So, it wasn’t you?” Anger clarifies, more insistently.

“No, of course not! If I knew that everyone else could see, and I couldn’t, I would burn up with envy,” Mother emotionally shares her true feelings.

“And what would you do about it?” Deceit asks cautiously.

“I would try to see by any means possible,” Envy answers firmly. “Or I would blind the others,” she adds very quietly, looking away.

“What option do you think Oliver will choose?” Anger asks for advice.

“Knowing that boy, he won’t do anything. Or he’ll choose the first one,” Envy suggests.

“How would you start acting if you were in his place?” Deceit asks.

“I would go to your uncle Alt. In a matter like this, money is needed, as in most cases when others have something and you don’t,” Mother answers without hesitation. “He’s the specialist for these kinds of things.”

“Yes,” Anger agrees. “Only Uncle Alt came to me asking for help. That’s why we are here.”

“Then things are bad,” Envy whispers resignedly.

“Why?” Anger is surprised by his mother’s unexpectedly serious reaction.

“When amateurs take over, especially if it’s Anger and Deceit, don’t expect anything good. Especially with material matters, and even more so when it concerns health,” Envy explains offensively. “Why did Uncle Alt come? What has happened already?”

“The last cube has stopped near the cloud bridge and is gradually growing,” Anger explains, now with greater seriousness and apprehension. “I saw it myself.”

“The cube is serious,” Envy confirms. “Unfulfilled desires can destroy the mind if they become the center of attention and suffering. The black ice will soon begin to grow even faster, and then it’s definitely the end for all of us. It will fill Oliver’s entire mind and eventually destroy him. In that case, the boy’s personality will tear into pieces. Then no one will be able to put him back together. Darkness will come not only from the outside but also from within.”

“Even his parents and Cynthia won’t be able to do anything?” Deceit clarifies.

“Even the closest people are sometimes powerless if you lose control over your unfulfilled desires. Desires are more powerful than feelings and reason. They can either make a person happy or ruin them,” Envy explains with horror in her eyes.

“So what should we do?” Anger asks in a panic.

“Calm down first,” Mother replies in a wise voice. “You need to drag your uncle out of his part. And together figure out a way out. You can’t handle it alone. Alt won’t be able to do anything without your help either.”

“What do you advise?” Deceit asks.

“You must act together,” Envy says firmly. “Avarice can’t do anything without Anger’s assertiveness and Deceit’s resourcefulness. Go to Uncle Alt and tell him that he is obliged to help you, no matter what. If he resists, tell him it’s to pay off a debt,” she says the clever magic phrase.

“What debt?” Anger asks.

“It’s thanks to me that your uncle has such a powerful body of pure gold. He was very frail and unremarkable because Oliver didn’t take him seriously. Looking at the others, Alt was envious and wanted to be bigger and more valuable than others. It’s only thanks to me that he got a powerful three-meter gold nugget instead of his tiny body.”

“Now everything is clear,” Anger smirks, heading toward the place they entered through.

“Thanks for the help, Mom,” Deceit thanks her with a smile, hugging Envy.

“Always ready to help my precious children, the best among the rest. At least I have something better than others,” Envy smiles proudly and contentedly.

“Thank you, Mother,” Anger says, returning. He hugs his mother.

“Go quickly,” Envy urges worriedly. “The cube will accelerate its growth even more soon. The desire is becoming obsessive. It’s dangerous.”

“All right, we’re going,” Deceit says, approaching the wall.

“But be sure to come back and tell me how it all went,” Envy asks, hoping to see her children again. “If there’s anywhere to come back to,” she whispers sadly.

“We’ll see you soon!” Anger smiles, seeping through the wall.

“See you later, Mom,” Deceit smiles, leaving right after his brother.

The brothers leave their mother’s house, enriched by parental advice. Now, all that remains is to make use of it. As is customary for Anger and Deceit, they argue over who will be the first to speak with Uncle Alt on the way to his part of the consciousness. Both refuse to admit their helplessness without his involvement. Pride greatly complicates life.

They arrive fairly quickly, passing through the shared wall with Anger’s section. Beneath the wall, on the avaricious side, tar has soaked into the nearby precious stones. They now look more like black diamonds than the familiar raidooms and kaidooms. Anger smiles contentedly, watching his older brother as he heads into Alt’s refuge. He has to stroll around in his search. The golden giant is hiding in the farthest corner of his domain.

“And hello again, dear Uncle!” Anger fake-smiles. He lost the argument.

“Nephews?” Alt is surprised, hiding Oliver’s toys.

“Aren’t you happy to see us?” Deceit asks calmly.

“I'm always happy to see you, but you usually disappoint me,” Alt replies sadly.

“Forgive us, Uncle,” Deceit sincerely apologizes. He always speaks the truth, but his reputation does its job. That is how he stays one step ahead. That is his entire trick. “We’ll try to do better.”

“Why have you come to me?” Alt asks guardedly.

“We need your help,” Anger admits directly.

“You must be confused. I was the one who came to you for help,” Alt corrects him. “And you decided to ask Deceit for help.”

“That’s right,” Deceit agrees. “But without your help, we can’t manage. This is called mutual aid.”

“And are you certain you can’t manage on your own?” Alt inquires. “The two of you have much more strength and authority than I do. You are professionals in your field.”

“You’re right, Uncle. But we can’t do this without you,” Deceit admits, not shy about showing weakness.

“I don’t think I should deal with you,” Alt mutters uncertainly.

“Mother said you’d agree,” Anger says caustically, enjoying the power Envy has given him.

“Mother?” Alt repeats. “What did she tell you?”

“You owe us,” Anger continues. “The golden body isn’t given for nothing either. And not to everyone.”

“I owe only her, not you,” Alt clarifies.

“We’re one family. Please, help all of us in exchange for your debt,” Deceit calmly requests.

“I knew this debt would surface someday. Of course, at the most inopportune time,” Alt says irritably, looking at the shimmering stones beneath his feet.

“Debts are never pleasant or timely,” Deceit says understandingly. “Will you help us all?” he looks at his uncle hopefully.

“What choice do I have,” the giant grumbles resignedly.

“Why don’t you give the toys back to Oliver?” Anger, with a spiteful grin, tries to provoke him out of habit.

“None of your business!” Alt answers harshly. “It’s a good thing you reminded me. I won’t owe you anything! So don’t even look at my possessions.”

“What do you mean?” Anger is indignant. “We had an agreement!”

“We agreed that you would manage on your own. Not only have you brought your brother in, but you’ve also come to me together. Therefore, the value of the agreement ultimately equals zero.”

“But,” Anger wants to object, but his brother stops him, unwilling to lose Alt’s favor, even if it is coerced.

“Don’t argue with Uncle. He understands these matters better,” Deceit soothes him.

“Thank you for your support, nephew,” Alt thanks him, placing a heavy hand on Deceit’s shoulder.

“Profit is meaningless right now. The main thing is to save Oliver’s consciousness, otherwise, we’re all finished,” Deceit calmly reminds him, trying to keep his emotions in check.

“You are absolutely right about that,” Alt agrees.

“Not a minute has passed, and they've already conspired,” Anger mutters discontentedly and enviously. “Just tell us how to get out of this situation!” he addresses his uncle maliciously.

“We need to find money in the human world,” Alt replies confidently. “Our valuables are worthless there. We need real money in the real world.”

“How much do we need?” Deceit asks calmly.

“This much,” Alt writes a number among the raidooms; the figures shine with disintegrating yellow kaidooms from the touch of the giant’s golden finger.

“Where do we get it?” comes Deceit’s next question.

“That is an interesting question,” Alt admits in a bass voice. “That’s exactly why I came to you for help. It’s difficult to find such an amount in the real world in such a short time, so we must use your talents. Anger for the harshness of character and confidence in actions. Deceit for the soft implementation of the plan.”

“Speaking of deadlines,” Anger reminds him. “How much time do we have?”

“I’d say a couple of days, no more,” the giant replies thoughtfully.

“Can we make it?” Anger asks nervously.

“We’ll try,” Deceit whispers tensely.

The fighters for Oliver’s Consciousness enter the Abode of Solution Seeking. This area is neutral. Anyone can come here without restrictions. No one exists who hasn’t sought solutions to problems, for everyone faces unresolved questions, obstacles, and difficulties. Without them, there would be no development, and life wouldn’t be as we know it. This place helps everyone who sincerely wishes to find answers. Even those who claim they don’t care secretly come here in search of a solution, a way out. Only those who give up don’t find one.

In the elongated building with endless corridors, there are answers to all questions. The one who battles the fear of the unknown, who finds the strength within to choose one of the paths, is sure to find a solution. If a path is chosen incorrectly, the next one waits at the end of the selected route. This continues until the exit is found.

“I suggest we split up,” Alt says confidently, looking seriously down the darkened corridors.

“That’s suicide!” Anger protests. “We’ll get lost forever in there.”

“That gives us three times the chance to find a way out,” Deceit explains calmly.

“Exactly,” Alt agrees. “That’s what I’m counting on. If even one of us finds a solution to the situation, the others will see a light in this very spot,” the giant says, pointing to the hall where they stand.

“What if we go so far that we can’t see the light?” Anger worries.

“We will,” Alt firmly assures him. “The right solution always illuminates the entire consciousness and destroys all other corridors of solution seeking.”

“We might be buried under the rubble,” Anger panics. “Or destroyed along with the corridors.”

“That won’t happen,” the giant soothes. “Or it shouldn’t,” he quietly adds, looking at Deceit.

“Let’s go,” Deceit commands assuredly. “Alt straight, me right, and you, Anger, go left.”

“Maybe I should stick with one of you?” Anger asks cautiously.

“That would reduce our chances,” Alt reminds him. “We must split up.”

“Fine,” Anger drops his head in frustration. He doesn’t even notice himself walking first into his corridor.

Next, Deceit vanishes into his search. Alt enters last, stepping forward without looking at the openings in the walls that seem to pierce them like tunnels through their entire thickness and area. It is uniformly dark all around, and yet also uniformly bright. An undefined setting. The walls simultaneously contract and expand. Protected and defenseless.

You feel certain that you’re heading in the right direction, and then it seems you made a mistake at the very beginning of the journey. Thoughts get muddled. You forget why you even entered this place. The giant tries to focus. His mind hasn’t worked “by trade“ for a long time. Kindness of soul became more important than material gain, but now he needs to recall the talent for avarice.

A avarice for finding the best solution. An unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Alt examines the walls, ceiling, and floor closely. Faint flashes flicker in the distance, extinguishing as soon as the giant approaches. Illumination slips away from him. He tries to catch up, but this only makes it harder, as the sparks of answers accelerate with him and scatter into the holes in the walls.

Alt gasps for air. Avarice is useless here too. The more you chase after what you desire, the harder it is to catch. On the other hand, if you don’t try, there’s no chance of catching it. What if he just stops and waits for the flashes to become interested in him? To want to be known.

The giant sits down in the middle of the tunnel. He closes his eyes. Relaxes. He thinks about his friend, about Oliver. He puts himself in the young man’s place. He feels the disappointment in justice, the despair, the fear of remaining blind for life, the envy of seeing people, and how much Oliver wants to see his children in life. Alt feels how difficult things are for Olly right now. He himself wants to see the real world. To do that, he needs to restore Oliver’s sight. To restore sight, real money is required. Such an amount is hard to find in reality. Here, he needs to tap into pure selfish avarice.

The giant revives within himself pure avarice, a lust for gain, the desire to find the necessary money at any cost. He feels his core ignite, expanding, trying to seize as much space as possible and keep it for himself. The desire to possess everything grows stronger than all others. The flashes fly towards him and burn him. Thoughts of how to find the money race through his mind.

Many options are unsuitable because they are too long-term. Only criminal methods will solve the problem in two days. Alt rules those out until the very last moment, looking for any other alternatives. He sees nothing else. He gets angry at himself and his foolishness. Unnoticed, Anger appears beside him. The set goal cannot be achieved through honest means. He must twist, invent, and deceive. In the middle of the corridor, unaware of each other, Avarice, Anger, and Deceit sit back to back.

The flashes burn each of them, forcing them to devise new moves, to search for solutions. Agonizing struggles of thought and a fruitless result. The flashes grow more numerous. The three consciousnesses subconsciously connect and attract solutions in waves that wash over them and then recede back into the walls, finding no response or agreement. Thoughts rush into the future, searching for events that might solve the problem. Only crimes, deceit, fear, and risk are visible. Acquiring such money in two days in the real world seems impossible.

Flashes surround the unified consciousness of the three seekers. Now they don’t burn but circle around them, merging together with new thoughts. The faces of the three distort in tension. The flashes, in waves from all sides, abruptly unleash all their power onto the center of the connection. Joining together, piercing through the bodies of Alt, Anger, and Deceit, they erupt in beams, creating a shining sphere. The corridors of solution seeking gradually collapse along their entire length, in all directions. The sphere of illumination protects the unified triple whole.

The sphere slowly disappears. The glow fades. Alt, Anger, and Deceit open their eyes. Illuminated by the vision, the co-conspirators rejoice in the found solution. Together, they have found a perfect option. It seems honest, not contradicting human laws. All that remains is to implement the found solution. Only as they stand up do they realize they were sitting next to each other. Each one thought the revelation had come only to him. They aren’t terribly upset. The joy of the discovery is stronger than egoism. Smiles give way to serious, thoughtful expressions. Now they must do what they've devised.

Alt is the first to rise, rousing his nephews. It’s going to be difficult to bring Oliver’s mind under control. To make the plan a reality, they must become real themselves. How is it even possible for human qualities to become real people? They need to find a way—there is no other option. The search for a solution has been thwarted. The next attempt won’t come soon.

They need to ask someone real. There are only four real people in this world. Cynthia is currently in reality, as is Oliver. Mia tries to believe that this world is the only one that exists—she decided this for herself to avoid recalling the past, even though she remembers and understands everything perfectly. It’s too painful for her to even talk about it. That leaves only Mike. Alt needs to ask him for help.

Oli doesn’t know where Mike lives. Such things aren’t discussed between them. Mia and Mike live in the past. People often come there. They stare for a long time at what is held in their memory. But, for some reason, they don’t recall the good times; only the most painful ones. That’s why Oliver doesn’t see Mia and Mike here. His memories from the day of the accident are what’s stuck in his past. He doesn’t notice his parents. Anger immediately returns to himself to control the boy’s emotions. Deceit withdraws to protect the mind from self-deceit. Mike can’t stand either of them, so it’s best not to meet.

Alt goes to Mike alone. The past here is gloomy, practically empty. Everywhere are scattered car debris, and toys that were taken from the boy in childhood and broken in front of him; he only ever heard the sound. There are no people here except for Mike and Mia. They are his entire past. He didn’t let anyone else into his memory; he wanted to get rid of everyone forever. He threw them into a deep pit in the middle of his memory, closing it with a heavy lid and a padlock to prevent unpleasant memories from breaking free. The parents don’t live in a house, but in a mangled car. That’s the place they were allotted in the boy’s memory.

“Mike,” Alt says softly.

“Hello, my friend!” Mike exclaims happily, emerging from the car.

“Hi, Mia!” the giant smiles, greeting the young woman.

“Hello, dear,” Mia is also glad to see the old acquaintance. “This is your first time visiting us. Has something happened?”

“Nothing special,” he tries not to shock his friends. “But something might.”

“Is it serious?” Mia asks anxiously.

“I need to talk to Mike,” Alt decides not to go into detail.

“Of course, talk!” the woman agrees understandingly.

“Thank you,” Alt smiles gratefully. He leads Mike aside. “Why are you sitting in a wrecked car?” the giant asks as they walk.

“It’s not always wrecked. It’s part of every cycle,” Mike explains in a calm voice. “When Oli returns to these memories, everything is still whole and peaceful. It gets worse when the memory reanimates the picture of the past. Then everything repeats. The car is wrecked anew; we die in it again and again. And it repeats every time.”

“Why does Oli keep recalling and replaying this in his mind?”

“These are the only real memories the boy has. What he saw live, with his own eyes. So he clings to reality through this memory.”

“He’s having a tough time,” Alt understands everything after his search for solutions. “And you have to live through everything again each time?”

“Yes, it’s unpleasant,” Mike confirms with a smile.

“Why don’t you tell your son about it?”

“If he needs it this much, we’re willing to put up with it.”

“Even if it repeats forever?” the giant is surprised by such self-sacrifice.

“However long it takes,” Mike says quietly. “Why did you come? Is this about business?”

“Yes, I need to become real,” Alt answers directly.

“Become real?” Mike asks, surprised.

“Yes, real,” the giant confirms.

“Are you tired of the easy life in the mind?” he smirks, looking at his serious friend.

“I want to help Oliver see things truly.”

“Ah, is this because of that last Gydam?” the boy’s father guesses.

“Yes, we are all in danger.”

“I understand. But are you sure you need to realize this dream?” Mike sows doubt.

“Why do you doubt it?” Alt asks, interested.

“Look, if the wish isn’t fulfilled, the Gydam will continue to grow and eventually destroy our entire world. On the other hand, if the wish comes true, the ice will melt, and Oli will see in reality,” Mike smoothly leads the giant to an understanding of the whole picture.

“Yes, that’s why we need to fulfill the wish,” Alt catches on.

“But didn’t you consider that if the wish comes true and the boy can see in reality, our world will still be destroyed?”

“Why did you decide that?” Alt clarifies, confused.

“Think about it. Oli created this world because he couldn’t see the real one. If he sees the real world, he won’t need this one anymore. And we won’t see the boy again. And he’ll never see us.”

“Yes, you’re right, it looks like that’s what will happen,” the giant agrees.

“So you think about the best way to proceed,” Mike suggests.

“If we help him see the real world, our world will disappear,” Alt says after a brief pause for thought.

“Exactly,” Mike confirms.

“If we don’t help, our world will still disappear,” the giant continues, looking at the mangled car.

“And you’re right again.”

“In any case, it’s the end for our world,” the giant sums up. “If we help make the dream come true, Oliver will be able to see. And if we don’t help, everything will be lost for nothing.”

“Yes, you understand everything correctly,” Mike smiles. “So, what have you decided?”

“We have to help,” Alt declares resolutely.

“An excellent decision. The right one!” Mike supports him.

“Why did you ask if you knew the best way to proceed?” Alt is surprised.

“I wanted you to grasp the whole picture,” Mike pats the giant on his shiny shoulder with a smile.

“Now I do,” Alt says sadly. “Please, show me how I can enter reality.”

“Are you going alone?” Mike asks for clarification.

“Why do you ask?” Alt is surprised.

“It will be dangerous for you there by yourself.”

“Why?” the giant suspects it won’t be easy. He wants to know at least some of what awaits him there.

“Understand this: you’re real to this world, but you don’t exist in reality, which means you’re unreal to reality. You don’t know what it’s like. And there, you need to be aware of everything and know how people behave.”

“I’m not going alone,” he admits, trying to reassure his friend a little.

“With whom?” this answer surprises Mike more than it pleases him.

“Deceit and Anger are coming too,” Alt answers cautiously, knowing their relationship.

“Them?” Mike is astonished.

“Yes. What’s the problem?” the giant pretends he doesn’t understand everything.

“It’s great that they’re going with you,” Mike unexpectedly approves. “Those two know the real world better than anyone. But aren’t you afraid those two will use you to leave this world and stay in that one?”

“Even if that happens, the main thing is to restore Oli’s sight. Besides, the boy will be better off without them, he doesn’t use their help anyway.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Mike agrees with a smile. “At least they’ll lead you there.”

“Well, will you show me?” the giant urges.

“Come with me,” Mike leads Alt through the misty gates.

They both disappear into the endlessly falling and spreading fog. Mia watches them with a mournful gaze, sensing something she doesn’t understand. She tries to trust her husband. She lets him go without questions. She doesn’t dare to follow them; it might be dangerous for her or for everyone at once if she goes. And she doesn’t want to leave her son.

It’s better not to risk the fate of the others. She remains to wait for Oli’s next return to the past. Soon, she will live through the accident and death again. It’s not easy, but at least she’s always with Mike. Together, it’s easier to cope with such difficult moments. If it helps her son feel better when he sees the only real memory, then the parents are willing to endure. They can’t leave him without joy, even a sad one.

Mike escorts Alt into a chamber constructed from magnifying glasses and mirrors. A voluminous figure stands in the middle. Alt does not know what he is looking at. He examines everything around him with interest, trying to peer inside the central figure. Beams of various colors and sizes enter through it, refract and scatter, absorbed by the local glass and mirrors. The beams that emerge from here, going outside, refract and scatter on the other side of the facets. The giant watches the journey of the rays with fascination, accompanied by images he does not understand. Everything is so different, so unseen.

“What is this?” Alt asks, unable to contain his curiosity.

“This is the prism of reality,” Mike answers with a smile.

“What is the prism for?”

“What Oli perceives in the real world is passed through it. The signal enters here through the prism, and his worldview is then formed here.”

“Are you suggesting we travel into reality in reverse?” the giant clarifies.

“Theoretically, it’s possible. Look how the impulses from here go back. That is already his formed attitude toward reality. That is how Oliver’s actions are shaped.”

“Why are all the beams so uniform?” Alt asks, looking closer.

“Oli is at work right now, and there is no variety there. And generally, until he sees the real world, the beams will always be dull and uninteresting.”

“So that’s why Oli wants to see the real world,” Alt now realizes the young man’s desire.

“Yes, everyone wants to see and feel the world fully. And those who see but do not feel simply do not value their priceless gift. I hear these thoughts of Oliver periodically.”

“Now I understand why this is so important to Oliver,” the giant comprehends.

“Yes, and that’s why I’m glad you’ve decided to go to the other side.”

“We need to call Deceit and Anger,” Alt reminds him.

“They are already here,” Mike replies.

“What makes you say that?” the giant asks in surprise. “They went to their own parts.”

“That’s what they told you. Don’t forget who you’re dealing with,” Mike points at one of the mirrors with a smirk. Deceit and Anger emerge from behind it.

“Sorry,” Deceit smiles guiltily. “We have no patience at all. And we didn’t want to upset Mia.”

“I cannot let you go with them,” Mike says seriously to Alt.

“I have to help Oliver,” the giant insists.

“You do,” Mike agrees. “And I will go with you.”

“What about them?” Alt points to the confused Deceit and Anger.

“We’ll take them with us too. It is difficult to get by in real life without Deceit and Anger.”

“Thank you,” Deceit expresses his gratitude. Anger looks embarrassed and shy.

“Here is what you need to do,” Mike says seriously. “Stand behind me. I will run first. You follow me one by one. Do not be alarmed at the end of the circuit. The sensations will be strange. If everything is clear, we can go.” Everyone nods in agreement.

Mike runs along the right wall, accelerating with each step. After circling the room, he jumps into the central figure, transforms into a beam, refracts, and vanishes without a trace. The others repeat the same maneuver. One by one, they leave Oliver’s consciousness. The young man has no idea about it. His thoughts are occupied with something else right now.

As they emerge into reality, they inhabit the bodies of those in the same building as Oliver. Each one receives a body corresponding to their nature. Mike inhabits Jeremy, the pen factory director; he is the most experienced and has a fatherly relationship with Oliver. Alt takes Aaron, the finance deputy. Deceit enters the body of equally false Larry, a coworker. Anger is given to the malicious and unstable Craig, a security guard at the factory.

The difficulty is that these four individuals do not interact in real life. Everyone feels this instinctively when they look at each other. Only Jeremy and Aaron sense a spirit of cooperation, but nothing more. They immediately plunge into the work process. It’s a good thing that the factory requires everyone to wear name and position badges. At first, they don’t react when others address them. They look at everyone with mistrust. Then they observe each other closely. They figure out who is who.

For the first time, they see the real Oliver in real life. Here, the guy is completely different. Serious, focused. The first gray hairs, slight wrinkles. A ring on his ring finger, children at home. The guy has become a man. Mike can’t hold back; a tear runs down Jeremy’s cheek when he first sees his son.

Deceit, in the guise of Larry, notices and quickly prompts him. The director swiftly wipes away this obvious sign of weakness in the human world so no one notices. No differences or uncharacteristic behavior can be allowed. “I doubt a factory director can afford to cry in front of subordinates.” Mike gathers himself, assumes a serious expression for the workers, and adopts the appropriate business tone for Oliver.

“Oliver,” the director says, approaching the guy’s workplace.

“Yes, Director,” he answers, listening attentively.

“I’ll wait for you in my office in five minutes.”

“All right, sir, I’ll be on time,” Oliver promises.

“See you in the office,” Jeremy leaves for the director’s office.

Somehow, it all turned out awkwardly. And why in five minutes? How will he know when five minutes are up? Why didn’t he invite him right away? “Yes, I still need to get used to the director’s post.” Mike had managed to work as a department head before the accident. He needs to recall all his habits. He sets a timer. Strangely enough, Oliver appears exactly five minutes later. Jeremy had watched him through the office window that overlooks the workshop. The guy didn’t even ask anyone what time it was.

“You wanted to see me?” Oli asks, stepping into the office.

“Yes, come in, have a seat. We need to talk.”

“About what?” Oliver becomes wary.

“I want to know about your medical insurance.”

“What about it?” the guy is surprised by the topic of conversation.

“It’s fine. Just a routine check. I want all my subordinates to be completely safe at work.”

“Everything’s fine, sir,” the guy answers calmly.

“How’s the family?” Jeremy asks, trying to invent a compelling reason for summoning a subordinate to his office. He should have thought ahead.

“They’re all well, thank you,” the guy replies. “You've never asked about my family before,” Oliver adds, surprised.

“I had a lot of work, no time. I want to know how my guys are doing. Your kids, your children,” the director corrects himself.

“Everything’s good, sir, thank you,” the guy replies again, trying not to elaborate. “And how is your family?”

“Everything is wonderful, thank you. I wanted to tell you...” Mike wants to reveal who he is and about the presence of the others, but he restrains himself.

“What did you want to say?” the guy waits, on guard.

“Are you satisfied with your salary?” the director changes the subject.

“Yes, sir. Quite,” Oli answers modestly.

“Good. I’ll think about raising your salary anyway.”

“You already raised it last year, sir,” Oliver reminds him.

“You deserve another raise, and don’t argue,” the director says seriously.

“Thank you, sir,” the guy has no choice but to agree.

“Well, all right, get back to work. If I need anything, I’ll call you.”

“All right, sir.” Oli opens the office door himself and is almost out.

“Wait, Oliver,” Jeremy stops him.

“Yes, sir?” the guy turns around.

“How did you know when five minutes were up?”

“By the number of pens I managed to assemble, sir,” the guy replies.

“You know exactly the number you assemble in five minutes?”

“Of course. Otherwise, how could I count the time?” Oli smiles a slightly lost smile.

“Yes, you’re right. That’s a clever idea,” the director praises him.

“Thank you, sir.” The guy returns to his workplace.

“Aaron, Larry, Craig, come to my office,” the director announces over the loudspeaker.

While the summoned employees haven’t arrived, Mike attentively examines his new office. Even though he’s here for a short time, he wants to satisfy his human curiosity. He hasn’t been a real person for a long time. It’s a shame he didn’t bring Mia with him; they could have been a married couple again. Although, that might have complicated things.

The director clearly loves yachts and helicopters. Model yachts stand on the bedside tables, model helicopters are parked on the cabinets, and photos of yachts with helipads that Jeremy has visited hang on the walls. One must give the guy credit; the office design is like the cabin of an expensive yacht. The walls are paneled with wood, there’s a leather chair, a wooden desk—only a ship’s wheel is missing.

“Getting into the role, Mr. Director?” Deceit, in the form of Larry, says with a smirk.

“I have to,” Jeremy replies with a sigh.

“Not the worst role,” Anger in the voice of Craig remarks enviously.

“We can’t waste time on such trifles,” Alt reminds them, entering the office last.

“What’s wrong, Aaron? Don’t be so serious,” Larry sits in the chair opposite the director.

“Do you have a plan of action?” Jeremy asks Aaron.

“An ideal solution came to us in our search for answers,” Alt replies from within Aaron’s body.

“Tell me so I know what to do,” the director asks, leaning against the desk and listening carefully to Aaron.

“Our goal is to obtain the necessary sum for the operation. In reality, that’s much harder than in our imagined world. Money isn’t needed there at all. It’s definitely impossible to earn that much money here in two days. Stealing is extremely difficult, and we’d implicate the people we've inhabited.”

“What do these people matter to us? We don’t even know them,” Anger says, perfectly fitting the role of a security guard.

“We won’t implicate anyone. Oli still works here. And he lives in this city,” Jeremy states firmly.

“There’s still a third option,” Aaron continues.

“What is it? Speak quickly,” the director urges impatiently.

“We need to do a good deed for which we’ll receive a reward,” Alt seriously suggests.

“Is that some kind of joke?” Jeremy can’t contain a burst of surprised laughter.

“We saw this solution,” the bewildered Deceit reminds him. Larry looks the same in real life.

“It’s obvious you haven’t been in real life,” the director says with a smirk. “You've completely atrophied in Oliver’s consciousness. Good deeds aren’t paid for here. More often than not, people are punished for them, and good-hearted people are cruelly used to pin some crimes on them; they aren’t accepted in society.”

“You've changed,” Aaron remarks.

“No, I'm the same,” Mike replies confidently. “You must understand immediately: in Oliver’s consciousness, you can afford soft-heartedness, kindness, generosity, openness, and helping others. In reality, that leads to inevitable demise, if not physical, then social.”

“You haven’t been among people for a long time. Maybe something has changed during that time,” Larry tries to calm Jeremy down.

“People don’t change,” the director states seriously. “The sooner you grasp this, the fewer problems you’ll have in life. No matter how many years pass, people are always the same and act the same; only the visual shell changes. In the end, everything returns to square one.”

“We understand you,” Aaron says quietly. It’s unpleasant for Alt to hear the truth he wants to ignore. “I suggest we still try the option we saw.”

“All right, tell me what we need to do,” the director agrees.

While Alt, in the guise of Aaron, explains the plan of action that gives their world a chance to survive and restore Oliver’s sight, the guy himself continues to assemble ballpoint pens at his workstation. Nothing unusual has happened, but the director’s behavior alerts the most sensitive worker to intonations in the entire factory.

Something is wrong with the director’s voice. Larry has also changed; he used to joke often, but now he’s too quiet. And despite some personal qualities, the guy has never been called into the boss’s office. The appearance of the security guard, Craig, there is even stranger. A strange company for a meeting. Perhaps Larry did something wrong. He might have stolen something.

Oli tensely awaits the turn of events. This is happening for the first time. The consequences could be unpredictable. The guy worries not about himself but about his family’s future. If this strange situation affects him, he’ll have to look for a new job, which is practically impossible for a blind person. Oliver can’t afford to be fired. He needs to feed his family, and he can’t do that on benefits. The meeting in the director’s office ends. Everyone returns to their workstations. Larry still doesn’t say anything. The rest of the workday passes in tension.

At the end of his shift, Oliver tidies his workspace, changes his clothes, and steps out onto the street. Cynthia is waiting for him near the factory. A group of employees, who have clearly planned this, follows close behind. Cynthia doesn’t notice anything suspicious about them. She takes her husband’s hand, not to guide the blind man, but as a gesture of affection. He leaves his cane tucked in his pocket; he knows the route home by heart.

They walk the first block in silence. His wife notices her husband’s nervous touch and the tension in the air. She suspects something is wrong. Women always sense things, especially when it concerns loved ones. They exchange a few words on neutral topics, but then the tension crosses the line of secrecy.

“Something’s happened,” Cynthia says bluntly.

“What makes you say that, dear?” Oliver asks, feigning surprise.

“Your tone just told me,” she replies, having waited for this moment.

“Is it that noticeable?” the young man confusedly runs over the intonation he had just used in his mind.

“More than you think,” Cynthia confirms with a strained smile. “Tell me about it. Problems at work?”

“No, everything’s fine. It’s just that the director called me into his office today without any warning. Usually, he tells me a day ahead, but today he gave me five minutes,” Oli shares thoughtfully.

“And what did he say?”

“Nothing much. He asked about my medical insurance, my salary, and my family,” he recalls with a fluster.

“What did you tell him? Besides, what could you possibly say that would make you this nervous afterward?”

“I said everything was fine. I’m happy with my salary, my family is great, and I have insurance.”

“Why did he really call you in?” Cynthia presses for details, realizing that if her husband is worrying over trifles, there’s more to it. Secrets always make her nervous.

“I never figured it out. The director mentioned a raise.”

“Well, that’s good,” the girl rejoices. Raising two children is tough without money.

“Yes, but it’s just not his style. He’s more likely to cut a hundred people’s salaries than give one person a raise.”

“Then you’re a special employee. More valuable than a hundred others,” Cynthia encourages him.

“Doubtful. Two raises in one year is too much. Even for a valuable employee. Don’t you think?”

“The best should be rewarded. He’s doing the right thing,” the girl says. She knows the matter is complicated, but she doesn’t want to panic.

“No, something’s off,” the wary young man insists, still unsettled.

“Why do you think that?” Cynthia doesn’t back down.

“There was a strange meeting in his office today. Aaron, Larry, and Craig. Those four have never stood together. Even Aaron usually avoids getting close to Jeremy.”

“People are complex creatures,” the girl tries to soothe him figuratively. “Strange and unexpected behavior is normal.”

“Still, I feel uneasy about it somehow,” Oli says anxiously. He immediately stumbles.

“Don’t dwell on it,” Cynthia says with a smile, steadying her husband. “Or you’ll forget the way home with all that worry.”

“Are the kids still at the daycare?” Oliver asks, changing the subject.

“No, I picked them up before meeting you,” Cynthia replies, adjusting the collar of her husband’s shirt. “They’re at the neighbor’s.”

“Don’t you think the children are there too often?” Oliver asks, a shadow of doubt in his voice.

“The old woman is lonely by herself. The kids like her. And we can have a quiet walk without constantly checking what’s going on. I’m a little tired,” Cynthia admits honestly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t take time off work right now to help. Anything could happen in this situation; I have to be alert.”

“Yes, of course, I understand completely. That’s why I’m not asking. Claudia is a great help with the children. They don’t even treat them as well at the daycare,” the girl says, happy to have found an excellent helper nearby.

“That’s good,” Oliver calms down a little.

“Let’s not go into your world tonight,” his wife suggests cautiously.

“Don’t you like it there?” the young man asks directly.

“It’s much better than here. I just don’t want you to see the cube one more time and get upset. Let’s just sleep tonight.”

“Okay,” the young man agrees quietly, his voice tired.

They pick up the children from their neighbor, Claudia. No one is as happy to see Cynthia and Oliver as their children are. What a torrent of joy and shouts! They always hug and kiss their parents. It’s essential. Meetings like these make a whole day at work worthwhile.

They heat up the dinner they prepared that morning, saving time and energy in the evening. They eat together. Cynthia reads the children a story. They tuck them into bed. They draw a hot, bubbly bath and soak in the warm, domestic comfort after the cold rhythm of the city. They spend about an hour in the bath until the water cools and they start feeling sleepy. They agree not to visit Oliver’s world of imagination tonight. They get into bed and fall asleep peacefully. They haven’t had simple dreams in a long time. It’s a pleasant variety between their two lives.

The visitors from Oliver’s world waste no time. Immediately after work, they head to the local hospital. Only one nurse is on duty in the children’s ward. The young woman is asleep, studying an anatomy textbook. They sneak into the farthest rooms. The children are fast asleep after a hard day’s battle with their illnesses. A sleeping draught from the nurse’s syringe makes their dreams deeper and sweeter.

They select four patients, all around ten years old. They wheel the children out on gurneys into the hall. One after another, they move toward the elevator. A sleepy security guard walks past, sipping coffee. They freeze. The danger has passed. They transfer the children to wheelchairs near the ward exit. The adults envy the children’s deep sleep. They haven’t slept in an eternity, and they want to so badly. They constantly want to close their eyes and sink into the world of dreams. But in the world of imagination, that never happens.

They call the freight elevator. Mike and Alt descend first with their charges. Deceit and Anger follow, riding down with theirs. When the second group of four reaches the exit, the guard spots them. They have to rush to the parking lot, trying not to overturn the wheelchairs. By then, Mike has found a long-parked van.

The owner won’t ever return to his car. The operation wasn’t successful. Mike knows for certain. It’s his father’s van; his father died on the operating table a few weeks before Oliver was born. Letters arrived, asking them to remove the van from the parking lot. Mike could never bring himself to get behind the wheel; he didn’t even want to see the object of that grim memory. But now, it’s the only chance to get out of here.

He feels for a small compartment under the driver’s door. His father always kept the keys there. The car starts as the guard runs after the second pair. Time couldn’t rob the van of its voice and life. They just had to swap batteries with the car across the way. The children wake up to the guard’s shouts as they move, but they can’t say anything. They calmly watch the parked cars flashing past.

Anger brings his child to the van, where Alt is carefully and gently placing the children onto the laid-flat seats, then returns to hold off the guard. Deceit tosses a bag of medication for the children into the cabin; he managed to grab it on the way. Anger takes on the stronger security guard. Combined with his explosive nature, he emerges victorious.

Everyone is in the car. They hastily drive out of the parking lot. Police are approaching from the right. They have to hurry. The children watch out the windows with interest, following the blue-and-red lights. Deceit deliberately wiped down all the windows so the children could see as much as possible. Calmly, not exceeding the speed limit, they leave the city by convoluted back roads. The road ahead is long. They pass a gas station. Alt returns with a jerrycan so as not to draw attention to the van. He buys gasoline. He had to borrow a little money from Aaron. He’ll return it later. He refuels the van. They continue driving.

Two bright beams persistently bore into the darkness of the unlit road. They don’t put up lights on roads like this; they save electricity. No one cares about the number of accidents. Only money matters to the local authorities. The children fell asleep almost as soon as they left the city. A message about the kidnapping of children from the local hospital comes over the radio. Three boys and one girl, ten and eleven years old. Mike turns off the receiver so as not to wake anyone. Alt watches the road intently from the passenger seat. Deceit and Anger sit in the back, monitoring the children’s condition. Looking at them, they fall asleep themselves. For the first time in their lives.

“Don’t you want to sleep?” Mike asks.

“No, I’ve never slept, and I don’t want to get used to it,” Alt replies calmly. “Sleep is like a drug; you try it once, and then you’ll want to sleep your whole life.”

“Yeah,” Mike confirms with a smile. “You’re right. I know from experience.”

“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?” the giant asks, looking at the driver.

“You see, in the real world, you can never be sure of anything. Statistics and probability theory suggest different percentages for the likelihood of an event occurring. In reality, the probability in any situation is fifty-fifty. It will happen or it won’t. With us, it’s the same—we’ll succeed or we won’t. If we succeed, it means we’re doing the right thing. If we don’t, it means we made a mistake and acted wrongly.”

“And what about these people we’re using?”

“You mean us?” Mike pats his chest.

“Yes, if you remember, we agreed not to set anyone up,” Alt, the conscientious one, reminds him.

“So far, only the guard at the hospital has seen them. If you listened to me and temporarily took on your own faces, then no one will recognize us for sure. Physically, you never existed in reality, and if the guard identifies me, they’ll assume he’s crazy, because it’ll look like a ghost kidnapped the children.”

“And what about the children? We kidnapped them, but we agreed not to steal anything or anyone.”

“Sometimes I think you’re Conscience, not Avarice,” Mike smiles. “We aren’t kidnapping them; we’re doing a good deed.”

“Still, it is a kidnapping,” Alt says sadly, looking at the headlights’ beams in the darkness.

“Yes, technically, it is,” Mike agrees. “Time will tell whether we kidnapped them or not—when we find out if we made a mistake or did the right thing.” Alt remains silent.

Instead of the radio, they turn on the cassette player very quietly. The music almost merges with the engine noise. Mike remembers sitting in this spot before his father’s death. They used to drive out to a vacant lot together, where he learned to drive. Then his father let him drive alone. The best time spent with his father. Both were happy then. The boy was happy to be able to drive the van, and his father was happy that his son enjoyed driving as much as he did.

Mike drove his father to the hospital in this van. The operation began immediately. But they couldn’t do anything. They didn’t even have time to determine an exact diagnosis. They operated on a hunch. They took a risk and it didn’t pay off. Now, the van is associated not with his father, but with his uncertain death. They didn’t meet in the world of imagination, Oliver didn’t know his grandfather, and Mike couldn’t even describe him. He didn’t know if he even should.

Oliver wakes up an hour late to the alarm clock. Usually, Cynthia wakes him, but today she got up by herself, made breakfast, dressed the children, and took them to daycare. She set the alarm an hour later so her husband could sleep in. She wanted Oli to rest. She left a note indicating the time. The girl quickly mastered Braille.

They always used to get up together. They made the children’s breakfast together and helped them get ready. They went to work together, dropping the kids off at daycare on the way. They discussed everything Cynthia saw and Oli heard. Today, everything is just as it was before they met his beloved. He feels detached from family matters. He is left alone.

One such morning without an explanation as to why his wife didn’t wake him is enough to make him doubt her desire to see him in the mornings. Any action or word from a loved one that deviates from the usual, familiar ones, gives rise to doubt in the person who already doubts himself. A battle begins between common sense and feelings. Often, resentment wins. A person begins to feel sorry for himself, to look for a catch in everything, to nitpick at words, to twist situations, making himself the victim. All of this is destructive to the person himself and to the loved ones whose relationships are severed at the peak of self-destructive autosuggestion.

If you don’t stop the treacherous internal dialogue in time, you can end up losing everything you have, and perhaps even yourself. A person who allows suspicion to enter his life begins to look for deceit and traps in everything and everyone around him. The sense of reality is lost.

For Oli, this is doubly dangerous, as most of his conscious life takes place in a world of imagination. If he doesn’t restrain the destructive emotions, his consciousness will completely sink into the created unreal world, and he will cease to exist in this one. In that case, it’s hard even to imagine how this could end for him as a person. Cynthia and the children keep Oli anchored in reality. They mustn’t lose touch with each other.

He tries to push the heavy thoughts out of his head before they absorb into his consciousness. Even thinking about the end of his happy family life is unbearable for the guy. His family is his strength; thanks to them, Oli is still holding on. It’s several times harder for a blind person if he’s left alone. There can be nothing more terrifying. He decides to learn to wake up on his own, at the same time as his wife, so that every morning they are together. And now he must try to eradicate the self-pity and resentment that has settled in his soul. The more you think about the bad, the more you believe in the worst. He needs to move, to be busy; then he won’t have time to think.

He gets up and tidies himself. He eats breakfast alone. He isn’t hungry, but he just doesn’t want to upset Cynthia. His wife made an effort, she cooked for him. He gets ready. With a bad mood, he leaves for work. He walks a little longer than usual. Today, his legs feel heavier from the unpleasant, made-up thoughts. “A note. Normal people write regular notes, but Cynthia goes to all the trouble with this script. Why does she need this? Why does she even need me? She’s a beautiful, whole woman. She will surely leave me soon and go to a normal man. She’ll take the children. What kind of father am I to them? I'm like a helpless little child myself.” Oliver’s thoughts become darker and more terrifying. Even movement doesn’t help, only intensifying the penetration of doubt and the premonition of the worst.

The guard calls out to him. He almost walked past his workplace, lost in thought. Elderly Mr. Charlie is much more pleasant than Craig, whose body is occupied by Anger. At the factory, he is greeted with familiar smiles and warmth in voices. Oli can’t return the favor. He tries to look happy and calm, but he fails. Unpleasant thoughts cool his voice and make him forget about a warm smile. He walks between workstations, absorbed in a gloomy, self-made future. No one can pull the guy out of there. Everyone ends up there alone. If he figures it out, life will continue. If he doesn’t, he will stay there forever.

He greets Larry. He doesn’t hear a reply. The employee opposite him says that Larry hasn’t come in yet, just like the director and Aaron. Strange. The director and his deputy are usually the first to arrive to monitor who is late. Can it be that they are late today? Impossible. What a strange coincidence. All four people who had the meeting in the director’s office yesterday are absent today.

He starts working to distract himself from his thoughts and suspicions. It doesn’t work. His hands do everything by themselves, but his brain works separately. Everything he thought about on the way here is replayed again and again, further shaded in the worst tones. His body feels lethargic and doesn’t want to work. He doesn’t want anything. Nothing at all. He just wants to sit down, drop his hands, do nothing, and think about nothing.

“Oliver,” he feels a hand on his left shoulder.

“Yes,” he turns his head toward the voice.

“Someone wants to talk to you here,” the guard, Mr. Charlie, informs him.

“Who?” the guy is surprised. The four are absent, and no one else usually needs to be introduced to talk to the guy.

“It’s the police,” the guard’s answer makes the guy silently and motionlessly panic.

“The police?” Oliver asks again. Thoughts of problems and impending dismissal immediately come to mind.

“Don’t worry,” an unfamiliar voice says. “We just want to have a chat with you.”

“Alright,” Oliver agrees, calm on the surface.

“Call me if you need anything,” Mr. Charlie whispers. He goes back to his post.

“My name is Officer Stevenson, and this is Officer Lighter,” the police officer introduces himself.

“Good morning, sir,” the woman greets him.

“Good morning. What are you interested in?” Oliver asks calmly.

“Tell me, have you seen or do you recognize this van?” Stevenson asks, showing a photograph.

“I'm afraid not. And I don’t recognize it,” Oli answers sheepishly.

“Why?” the officer protests. “Don’t you want to help the investigation?”

“I can’t see the van,” the guy shows his folding cane.

“I apologize, sir,” Stevenson immediately apologizes for his tone.

“Describe it,” the guy requests.

“Dark blue, steel alloy wheels,” the officer describes briefly.

“Yes, I know it,” Oliver says honestly. “It’s my grandfather’s van.”

“Where is it now?” the policeman immediately asks.

“My father said he had it scrapped.”

“Your father said?” Stevenson asks, surprised.

“Yes,” the guy affirms, bewildered.

“You remember what your father told you when you were three?”

“I meant, he wrote it. In his events notebook,” Oliver justifies himself.

“Where is this notebook?” Officer Lighter asks.

“They gave it to me when I left the orphanage.”

“And what did you do with it?” the woman continues to ask.

“A friend read it to me. Then I threw it away so I wouldn’t get upset.”

“I see,” Stevenson whispers, disappointed.

“Tell me, why are you interested?” Oliver asks calmly.

“This van was never scrapped. Now it belongs to you by inheritance,” the officer explains.

“Where is it now?” the guy asks.

“It was stolen last night along with four kidnapped children from the hospital.”

“Who could have thought of such a thing?” Oliver wonders.

“We are looking for the children and the kidnappers,” Officer Lighter reveals the truth.

“There were several of them?” the guy clarifies.

“Yes, four,” Stevenson clarifies. “This is my business card,” the officer hands it directly to the guy. “If you learn anything, be sure to contact me.”

“I will definitely contact you,” Oliver promises confidently.

“Good day,” Lighter says her goodbyes, following Stevenson out.

“Good day,” the guy says quietly, feeling the embossed text on the business card.

Closer to dawn, the van approaches a small town. A patrol car stands at the entrance. They drive around the town, crossing a ploughed field. The children wake up from the springy bumps. With every jolt, their laughter grows louder. Some laugh through the pain; others smile with their last remaining strength. Seeing the children, Deceit and Anger are infected by the innocent laughter, joining in the general joy. Alt softens as he watches the children having a good time. Mike is tense, carefully watching to avoid blowing a tire. They reach a dirt road leading from the fields into the town. They move slowly along it, raising no dust, until they arrive at the first house.

Driving a little further, Mike parks the van in the bushes, then returns to the first house to ask for the address he needs. A middle-aged woman opens the door and readily gives directions. Then, she remembers who lives there and barely holds back tears. She asks him not to bother them with trifles. She sits down on the bench by her house, lost in thought. She takes a worn photograph of her son from her pocket, presses it to her heart, kisses it, and puts it back. Mike quietly leaves. He returns to the van. An agitated Alt meets him and leads him away from the vehicle.

“What is it?” Mike realizes he must speak as quietly as possible.

“The girl is getting worse,” Alt informs him sadly.

“Which address is that?” the driver asks.

“The last one,” the giant replies sadly, looking down at the patient cards.

“That’s bad. We need to go faster,” Mike worries. “Give her some painkillers for now.”

“All right,” Alt agrees, understanding what needs to be done.

“Are the others okay?” Mike asks seriously.

“Yes, but they’re starting to think,” Alt turns back to look at them.

“Are they saying anything about the hospital?” the driver asks, alert.

“Only that the van is better for now,” the giant, currently in his normal body, smiles.

“That’s good,” Jeremy smiles. “Give them some candy. I hid it under the seat while you were settling the kids.”

“Will do,” Alt is pleased by the good news for the children.

“We need to hurry,” Mike gets back behind the wheel. They drive toward the first address.

They arrive without problems. Alt takes one wheelchair from the van’s roof, unfolds it, and places it next to the van. Mike helps the boy into it. He pours out some candy and painkillers and gives him a letter in an envelope. He thanks the boy for the company and asks him not to tell anyone who brought him or how. He wheels him to the house door. He knocks and runs back to the car. They hastily hide at the end of the street, around a corner. They stop and wait. A man opens the door. He rushes to hug his son and calls his wife. She can’t believe it for a long time. She hugs him as tightly as she dares. The husband tries to loosen the embrace so the boy can breathe. Steven shares the candy with his parents. The kidnappers get back into the car. They drive to the second address.

Again, they must skirt the town on a dirt road to avoid running into patrol officers or residents. No one must spot the van. On the way, they get to know each other. The boys are Sean and Tyler; the girl is Serena. They give everyone painkillers so that severe pain does not ruin the trip. Strangely, the children aren’t scared and are happy to be out of the hospital, where they spent more than half a year.

Despite the rush, they stop at a small, clear lake. Mike goes to a clothing store. He buys children’s T-shirts with the inscription “I Love Traveling.” It’s a shame the first boy didn’t get one. He can’t resist and buys one more. They immediately deliver the fourth T-shirt to Steven. They leave the gift on the doorknob with best wishes from everyone. They drive back to the lake.

The children step out to the lake in their new T-shirts, replacing the hospital gowns. Deceit immediately rents three paddle boats. They seat the children, and then take their own seats. Mike helps everyone push off and returns to the van. He drives it into the bushes beneath the trees. While the children are boating with Alt, Anger, and Deceit, he sits on the shore, admiring the sun glinting on the lake.

Leaves rustle overhead, keeping time with the seagulls. Right now, Mike regrets most that Oliver cannot sit beside him and look at this beauty. The children look at the fish in the transparent water. They are happy they managed to see the lake, though they wish it were the sea. They paddle and laugh. Rental time ends. They return to the shore.

Mike meets everyone with ice cream. They sit together on the shore and eat the ice cream on the soft grass. It is a pleasant time, wonderful compared to the hospital. Jeremy pulls the van up. They help the children climb back in. They drive on. The next stop is Sean’s house in the neighboring town. They drive past grazing horses. They stop, choose the calmest stallions, and help the children mount. They support them while the horses calmly carry them around. There is so much happiness in the children’s eyes. Mike is happy for them and saddened that he never got to ride with Oliver and see his beloved son’s happy expression.

The horses’ owner notices them from a distance but does not chase them away, understanding that they are children riding. They gently stroke the horses, talk to them, and smile. The stallions wiggle their ears, snort, and toss their manes. It’s time to go. They lift the children off the horses. Deceit has managed to find apples somewhere. They even have time to feed them. At first, they awkwardly pulled their hands back, but then they extended the apples more confidently. The crunch of the bites echoes as joy in the children’s souls. They stroke them goodbye and drive away.

Sean’s hometown comes into view. No one is at the entrance. The houses here are half-ruined. They ask a vagrant how to get to the required house. For a dollar, he shows them the way. They pull up to a house that looks more like a shed. Alt takes another wheelchair from the roof. Mike sits Sean in it and wheels him to the door.

Deceit sprinkles the boy with candy, and Anger puts a small bottle of painkillers in his pocket. Mike gives him the letter. He knocks and runs away. They drive around the corner and watch. Sean’s grandmother, with hair white from age, comes out. How happy she is to see her beloved grandson! The parents come out. Sean is immediately back at home. Most likely, the news of the grandson’s kidnapping couldn’t even reach here. Everything is going according to plan. They get into the car and drive away.

Next, they must drop off Tyler. They drive for another two hours on a broken road. His parents live in a settlement that cannot even be called a town. Among the four houses, they quickly find the right one. They leave the boy with painkillers, candy, and the letter. They say goodbye and hide behind the neighboring house. Only the mother comes out. The father is working in the field and should be coming home for lunch soon. The mother hugs her son with tears and joyful laughter. Her hands touch the letter a few minutes later. When they realize Tyler is home, the van drives away.

Oliver wants to ask for time off work, but there’s no one to ask. The Director and Aaron aren’t in today. They’re the ones in charge here. He neatly stacks everything on his desk. He gets ready and leaves. He asks the guard to note his departure, just so everything is honest. He heads towards the hospital. The road is unfamiliar. He doesn’t risk taking public transport after the last time.

When he was getting off the bus, someone shoved him for being too slow. The guy fell into a deep puddle. They wouldn’t let the dirty man onto another bus. He had to walk across the whole city in muddy clothes. Back then, Oli decided to be normal, didn’t use his cane, and held onto the handrails. They treated him like everyone else. When he walks past shop windows, he uses his cane. Shop and café owners complain when he touches the glass with his hands.

Even if he knows every inch of the route, he carries a cane so people can see he’s blind and won’t get too angry when he makes a mistake. Not everyone understands that things can be harder for him than for other people. Sometimes they see he’s blind and do something mean to show their superiority. He got used to that kind of behavior back in childhood.

Now he tries to keep his distance from people. Only at work is the guy comfortable among his colleagues. He doesn’t bother anyone there. Everyone interacts as equals. Each person has their own job and responsibilities. Oli conscientiously carries out his duties. Through his responsibility and kindness, he earns the respect of his colleagues. That is the most important thing in a team.

An ambulance drives past. The conversations of passersby are increasingly filled with fear, illness, medicine, pain, and misfortune, as it always is near hospitals. He chose the right direction. He approaches the entrance. Someone helps him up the steep steps. He asks about the children; the security guard escorts him to the pediatric ward for critically ill children. He doesn’t go into the rooms.

It is enough for the guy to sit in the corridor near the parents of the young patients. In the rooms, they try not to cry in front of the children, so as not to scare them or deprive them of hope for recovery. In the corridor, the parents’ strength fails them. Grief and despair completely engulf them. The nurses and doctors don’t even try to comfort them. Everyone knows what inconsolable grief is, especially the parents of doomed children who have only a few days left to live.

The feeling of his own powerlessness becomes paramount. Some people can’t find the strength to live on afterward. They see no meaning. What could be more precious than children? All the patients and parents in the children’s ward become one big, unhappy family. Sharing the grief among everyone is impossible. With every minute, it becomes stronger and more unbearable. Understanding becomes the only key to communication between people.

They just wait. The most terrible waiting in every parent’s life. The staff tries not to appear in the children’s ward, so as not to see the suffering of the young patients and the parents dying along with them. Some of the stronger nurses come to support the patients.

Oliver can no longer stay in the corridor of misfortune. He asks a nurse to take him to the exit. He goes down the steps himself and goes to work. After everything he has heard and felt, work is out of the question. He goes straight home. No one is home. For a second, he imagines that the children dearest to his heart and Cynthia are no longer in the world. Horror engulfs him. He feels a soul-shattering sense of loss, which leaves painful wounds. He tries to get rid of the horror in his thoughts. They are alive, they are healthy. They will return home soon. Everything will be as before. He eagerly awaits seeing his precious family.

There is still a lot of time until his loved ones return. He retreats into his own world; it is easier for him to endure the agonizing wait there. No one is in their place. Everyone has scattered to their own affairs. The cube of desire to see is getting bigger, taking up half the ocean, growing three times faster. The guy can no longer stop this process. The desire has lost its boundaries and sense of reality. He sits and watches his world collapse. While his family is not near, the colors become even darker. His whole inside clenches, causing severe pain.

“Missing them?” Mia asks, sitting down next to him.

“No,” Oliver replies calmly, trying not to show his torment. He looks at the cube. The whole world blackens from the seeping resin of the Anger part.

“Is that truly what you want so badly?” Mia asks cautiously.

“Yes, Mom. I have everything except this. To be completely happy, I only lack my sight and a full life in the world of people,” he says and wonders if that is really true.

“Believe me, son, your life is more complete than most people on the planet. Try to realize, most lives are focused on finding their person and starting a family. And you already have Cynthia and the children, your father and I, and your friends. You even have your own world. You are richer than most people.”

“Mom, I understand everything. But you won’t convince me. I'm tired of being abnormal among normal people,” all the troubles associated with his blindness flash through his memory. It especially frightens him that he cannot be a proper father and husband. Cynthia and the children’s early rising and departure deeply hurt the guy’s feelings.

“All right, son. I won’t insist,” Mia replies with a smile.

“Thank you,” Oli returns to the human world.

He sits by the open window, listening to the street noise. He tries to hear the thoughts of passersby. His own thoughts are louder than the rest. He feels along the window frame and the windowsill. Along the wall, he reaches the children’s cribs. A box of toys stands nearby. There were no shapes like that in his childhood. Now you can find all sorts of things. Time has changed a lot. The children won’t be back for a while. He wants to play with them right now. He sits on the floor, sorting through the toys, waiting for his family, imagining them next to him.

Without pens, it’s hard to count down the time until he sees his loved ones. He has to rely on intuition. He tried using an open-faced watch. It was ineffective; the hands would fly off. Sometimes he accidentally changed the time. Together, they bought a talking digital watch. He tries not to use it; he doesn’t like the voice. And it irritates other people. He forgot where he left it. Cynthia sometimes scolds him for not using it.

Oli is used to it. His biological clock rarely fails him, if ever. So far, there have been no instances. This morning, he slept an hour extra because of habit. His internal alarm clock usually goes off from his wife’s gentle touch. Today, the real alarm clock woke him with its irritating ringing.

He wonders where the Director, Aaron, Larry, and Craig have actually gone. The whole thing is strange. The guy feels especially uncomfortable about skipping work. The unexpected absences of his colleagues had an influence. A bad example is contagious. The visit from the police completely killed his desire to work. To be honest, he doesn’t regret leaving. It’s the first time he has allowed himself to spend the day at home instead of at work.

If his premonitions are correct, he won’t have a job soon. Maybe that is for the best. Though, what is good about it? He lies down on the bed, puts his hands behind his head, and directs his gaze towards the window. He tries to imagine what everything actually looks like. He cannot see, so he imagines the emotions he might experience.

He lies there, smiling. It is pleasant to look at such beauty. Everything is beautiful when you begin to see after twenty years, even if it isn’t real. It’s not necessary to see to feel the joy of the world around you. He has learned to see with his feelings, sensations, and guesses. Sometimes that is enough, and sometimes it seems catastrophically little.

Hence the huge desire to get his sight back. Especially since it was granted from birth. This thought becomes obsessive and overshadows the joy of the surrounding world. He stops appreciating what he once cherished most in the world. He understands that this is wrong, but he can’t help himself.

All that remains is to bring Serena back. They drive onto a good road. The girl is tired of lying on the seat as if it were a hospital bed. She moves to the front seat, between Mike and Alt. They drive in silence. The giant and the girl both examine the surroundings with equal interest and attention. Occasionally, their gaze shifts to the door handle, the glove compartment, the handbrake, or the floor mat. A few minutes later, they examine their own fingers as if they were a complex puzzle. Sometimes they freeze and think about something, as if they aren’t really there. Mike occasionally glances at them with a smile, then returns his focus to the road.

“Where are we going?” Serena breaks the silence.

“To your house,” Mike answers honestly.

“Why?” the girl asks innocently.

“So you can be home. Aren’t you tired of lying in the hospital?”

“Tired!” the girl exclaims. “There are shots, pills, and scary doctors walking around,” she squeezes her eyes shut, remembering.

“We’re taking you home now. Everything will be fine. There won’t be any shots or doctors at home. But you’ll need to take some little pills so you don’t feel pain,” Mike explains to her as if she were his own daughter.

“Little pills?” the girl asks again.

“Yes. You don’t want to feel pain, do you?”

“I don’t,” Serena drawls, recalling all the pain she’s felt over the past few years.

“That’s why we got you the little pills. I think they’ll feed you some yummy things at home.”

“Of course! Dad knows how to cook lots of yummy stuff,” the girl boasts with a smile.

“What do you like best?”

“He bakes tasty apple buns. Sometimes he makes peach pie,” the girl thinks for a moment and can’t recall anything else, surprised she can’t remember.

“I like peach pie too,” Mike agrees. “Do you and your dad go out often?”

“No, very rarely,” Serena answers sadly. “I've been sick for a long time. Usually, we only took short walks sometimes in the courtyards of the hospitals where I stayed. I didn’t like it there.”

“I've got good news for you,” Mike says with a smile. “You won’t have to lie in hospitals and walk around near them anymore. Now you’ll only be walking around at home and sleeping in your own bed.”

“That really is good news,” the girl says happily.

“Do you have a favorite toy?” Mike asks, turning toward Serena for a second.

“Yes,” the girl answers with a smile. “But we lost him when we moved from the last hospital to this one,” her smile fades.

“And who was he?”

“My red frog,” the girl answers immediately, remembering.

“I didn’t think frogs were red,” Mike says in surprise.

“They absolutely are!” Serena confirms seriously.

“And what’s her name?”

“His!” the girl corrects.

“Right. What’s his name?” Mike repeats the question.

“Frolly,” Serena answers with a smile.

“Interesting name. Did you play with him often?”

“Yes, almost all the time. He even went with me to surgeries.”

“Was Frolly sick too?”

“Yes, he has the same illness as me. They gave us shots and operations at the same time.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Mike shakes his head seriously. “You’re true friends.”

“Best friends,” the girl says proudly. “We just got lost,” she adds sadly.

“Best friends never get lost,” Mike states. “They’re always right here with us. You’ll meet again soon.”

“Really?” Serena asks, hoping for it badly.

“Of course, really! I know it for a fact.”

“How?” the girl looks at the driver with interest.

“I even met my own best friend again after twenty years.”

“And what’s your friend’s name?”

“Oliver,” Alt looks at Mike, smiling. “Oli to his friends. You can call him that,” the driver winks.

“Thank you. I like that name,” the girl says thoughtfully.

“Serena,” Mike says anxiously, looking closely at the girl. “Alt, she’s losing consciousness!” the driver smoothly pulls over to the shoulder of the night road.

“What’s wrong with her?” the giant panics. “Is it bad?”

“The girl’s unconscious,” Mike tries to bring Serena around. “It could be because of her illness. But I don’t know what medicine she needs,” he looks distractedly at the bag of medications.

“It should be written in her medical chart,” Deceit suggests.

“We might mix something up,” Mike worries.

“We can’t just do nothing because we’re scared!” Anger cuts in.

“Right, everybody calm down,” the driver says seriously.

“There must be a way,” Alt whispers hopefully.

“Her pulse and breathing are fading,” Deceit panics.

“I won’t risk the medication!” Mike carefully opens the girl’s eyelids, staring intently into Serena’s clear, bright eyes. He penetrates her consciousness, freeing Jeremy’s body. All three try to restrain the shocked factory director, who has returned to his body in an unfamiliar car with unfamiliar people, considering they all look like they do in Oliver’s world.

“Mike, hurry up!” Deceit urges.

“Serena!” Mike calls out in the dark fog of the girl’s mind. “Serena!”

“I'm here,” the girl, in hospital clothes and holding her plush friend Frolly, steps out of the gloomy fog.

“I'm so glad to see you,” Mike says, genuinely happy, moving closer. “Why did you leave us?” he tries to speak softly so as not to scare the child.

“Frolly called me,” the girl explains, showing the toy, which she hugs close again.

“Serena, you probably just imagined it,” Mike tries to convince the little girl, guessing what this means.

“No, I heard it clearly,” Serena insists. “And here’s my Frolly. He definitely called, and I came.”

“I see, girl. But it’s too early for you two to meet. Frolly spoiled the surprise ahead of time,” Mike looks at Serena shrewdly.

“What surprise?” the girl asks.

“Meeting Frolly is the second surprise, which was supposed to happen after the first one, and not right away,” Mike explains to pique Serena’s interest.

“Then what’s the first surprise?” the girl asks, just as he intended.

“You’ll find out the first surprise when you come back with me to the others. They've been waiting for us. They all miss you there and want to see you again. Alt, Deceit, and Anger. And I want to see you there.”

“Deceit and Anger?” the girl asks fearfully. “They’re bad uncles, aren’t they?”

“Nonsense,” Mike smiles. “You've seen them, they help children. And we’re all friends. Tell me, has any one of them hurt you?”

“No,” Serena says quietly.

“See. And no one intends to hurt you. We’re all waiting for you, and not just us,” he makes her curious again.

“Who else?” Serena looks at Mike with interest, hugging Frolly close.

“That’s the main surprise,” Mike explains, maintaining the mystery. “You just have to come back so you can see the surprise.”

“But I like it better here,” the sad girl replies. “Nothing hurts here.”

“I understand,” Mike smiles. “But if you don’t come back, everyone will be in pain. Not just me. And I'm already in pain because you left. Let’s go back together now, you’ll see the main surprise, and then you can decide for yourself when to go to Frolly.”

“But it’ll hurt again there,” Serena is upset.

“When you see the main surprise, you’ll immediately feel better,” Mike reassures her.

“Promise?” the girl asks hopefully.

“I promise,” Mike smiles. “Let’s go quickly, everyone’s been waiting. And the surprise is waiting for you.”

“Okay,” the girl gives Mike her hand. They return together.

“Don’t let go of him!” Anger yells, twisting Jeremy’s arm.

“She’s breathing again!” Alt shouts joyfully, looking at Serena.

“Guys, it’s me, Mike!” the driver relaxes in his friends’ grip.

“Mike?” Anger asks, looking into Jeremy’s eyes.

“Yes, everything’s fine, we’re back,” Mike reassures them.

“Where were you?” Deceit asks.

“We went to visit Frolly,” Mike answers with a smile.

“And now we’re back. Frolly will wait for us,” Serena smiles. “That’s the second surprise. I want to see the first one!”

“You will soon,” Mike starts the car. The journey to the surprise continues.

“I wish we were there already,” the girl looks ahead impatiently.

“Not much left now,” the driver encourages her.

“She,” Alt whispers, hinting at Serena, guessing the girl died for a short time.

“Yes,” Mike nods, unnoticed by the girl.

“It’s good that you’re back,” Alt says happily, looking at Serena.

“I want to see the main surprise,” the girl replies joyfully.

“We’re almost there. Your main surprise is here,” they arrive on a smooth road leading to a mansion with a fruit orchard.

“It’s my house!” the girl rejoices. “My best main surprise!”

“Yes, you’re home,” Mike smiles, glad they made it and the best surprise didn’t turn into the worst. “But you should probably wait for your father here,” he advises, looking at the two huge guard dogs by the gates.

“No, I have to go to the door, or Dad won’t know I've come home to him,” the dogs run up to the gates, begging for affection like puppies. They can sense Serena’s scent.

“Fine, we’ll walk you to the door,” Mike agrees, making sure the dogs aren’t biters.

“Thank you,” Serena thanks them for the pills, the candy, and the letter.

“Thank you for the company,” they all thank the girl. “Just not a word about us to anyone, got it?” Mike looks at the girl with a narrowed gaze.

“Got it. Not a word to anyone!” Serena narrows her eyes in return.

“Perfect!” they ring the doorbell and run back to the van.

The dogs are too busy with their beloved mistress to be distracted by strangers. They drive away, watching from behind the trees. The father, overcome with grief, comes out to meet his daughter. His face lights up when he sees her. He lifts Serena out of the wheelchair and up to the sky. He holds her in his embrace. He kisses her with all his fatherly love. He reads the letter inside the house. So, the last traveler of the night has returned home. The plan has been executed. All that remains is to wait for the result. Alt is impatient to find out if they did the right thing. It’s not clear yet. They drive back to the city.

On the way, they again have to leave the van some distance from the gas station. They buy enough gas to last the whole trip. Mike is unaccustomed to the stress and feels exhausted. No one else knows how to drive. He manages to reach the nearest hotel, but they don’t get a chance to rest. The hotel owner recognizes the van and immediately calls the police. The situation is complicated by the fact that the children are not in the vehicle. The abductors hide nearby to buy time for the people they are using. When the police leave with the van, they catch a ride. They switch cars several times to get to the city. They spend all their money.

Reaching the factory, they leave the bodies at their workplaces and return to Oliver’s world of imagination. The people have been missing from their lives for twenty-four hours. Craig is sent home because he showed up on the wrong shift. Larry is not punished for his absence; no one even noticed. The Director and Aaron are getting used to delays in deadlines, reports, and figures. Everything will normalize in time.

Even Oliver is not punished. Mr. Charlie did not notice his departure and explained it away as the boy feeling unwell. This is a first; everyone immediately forgave and forgot. But the boy has other things to worry about right now. Oliver meets Cynthia and the children near the house. Officers Stevenson and Lighter arrive with them. They report that they found the van and that the abducted children were found at their own homes. They stayed with their parents.

“These are for you,” Stevenson says, handing him four envelopes and the keys to the van.

“Thank you,” Oli accepts the keys and envelopes, bewildered.

“All the best,” Officer Lighter says as he leaves, following Stevenson.

“What’s in there?” Oli asks.

“Let’s see,” Cynthia opens the envelopes. “There’s money and letters here.”

“What money?” the boy asks, alarmed.

“I don’t know, maybe the letters will say,” Cynthia suggests.

“Please, read them,” Oli asks.

“The first one is from the parents of some Steven: ‘Thank you, Oliver, for the opportunity to spend time with our son. This is worth more than any money. We hope this expression of gratitude is enough’.”

“That’s strange,” Oli whispers.

“The next one is from Sean’s grandmother: ‘Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the time with my grandson. These minutes are worth a lifetime. I hope I have helped you, too, dear Oliver’.”

“What about the others?”

“Tyler’s parents also thank you for the reunion with their son and contribute their part to the cause. That’s what it says.”

“What cause?” Oliver asks, puzzled.

“I don’t know. Maybe the fourth letter will answer,” the girl opens the fourth envelope.

“Read it quickly, please,” Oli asks.

“’Dear Oliver. You have done something for me that no one else in the world could have done. Here is a portion of my savings. I hope this helps you,'“ Cynthia reads, surprised. “‘Serena’s Father’.”

“What does all this mean?” Oliver still hasn’t figured anything out.

“Let’s leave the children with the neighbor and ask your parents,” Cynthia suggests.

“Okay,” Oliver agrees, wanting to get to the bottom of things. They leave the children with Claudia and go to the world of imagination. On the cloud bridge, they meet Mia with Mike and Alt. It’s surprising to run into a content Deceit and Anger. “Why are they here? They never visit us.”

“It’s all right, son, they are friends,” Mike calms the surprised and anxious boy.

“What does all this mean?” Oli tries to find out anything, if they know.

“We helped some people so they could help you,” his father answers.

“What are you talking about?” Oli still doesn’t understand anything.

“We freed four children from the hospital and returned them home with letters.”

“What letters?”

“We left a letter with each child. We wrote: ‘You don’t have the opportunity to come to the hospital, so spend the last time in your child’s life at home, as a family, together. Give all the love, warmth, and care your child will always remember. If possible, please help me to see the world. The surgery is expensive, so I would appreciate any amount. Oliver’.”

“Why did you do that?” the boy protests.

“The money collected is enough for your sight-restoring surgery, and if it’s not enough, you can sell the van and you’ll be able to see like everyone else,” Mike explains, hoping it will be enough for the surgery.

“Why did you steal the children from the hospital?” the boy argues.

“We didn’t steal them; we helped them return home. To spend their last day with their loved ones,” Mike corrects his son.

“How did you know this day was their last?” the boy wonders.

“In case you forgot, I have a certain all-knowing acquaintance who helped choose the terminally ill children who had no more than a day left to live,” he looks thankfully at the modest Alt. “We returned them to their families.”

“Then why did you take the money?” this angers Oliver the most.

“The money is gratitude,” Mike replies with a smile. “You wanted to see, didn’t you? Now you have the money for the surgery.”

“Why did you get involved in this in the first place?”

“Can’t you see the massive cube that is about to destroy your whole world? And this blackness that is consuming all existence?”

“I see it,” Oli says guiltily. “Forgive my selfishness. Thank you for helping, but I cannot accept this money.”

“You don’t want to see?” Mike is surprised.

“I do. But that’s a small thing. What’s much more important is that I have all of you. My children are alive and well—that’s the main thing. I have everything. And even more. Now I finally realize it all.”

“What will you do with the money?” Deceit asks.

“I’ll do something good with it. Thank you all,” the boy thanks them with a smile. “This is redundant here,” Oliver looks at the gradually disappearing black cube along with the casket, which all this time held his last wish to see. The black ice turns into rays of light, scattering the blackness of the angry resin. “See you later,” he takes Cynthia. Together, they return to the real world.

“What are you going to do with the money?” his wife asks.

“Can you drive me somewhere?” Oliver asks gently.

“Of course,” Cynthia gladly gets behind the wheel of the dusty van. It feels like becoming a full part of the family.

Oliver and Cynthia drive to the hospital. On the way, they pick up their children. They buy many toys and sweets. They give the money from Steve’s, Sean’s, Tyler’s, and Serena’s parents to the chief physician for the children’s treatment. They visit the pediatric ward. They convince them to organize a party for the young patients. The head of the department happily agrees.

They invite the parents. Within an hour, they organize a concert together with songs, dances, and games. The children eat sweets, have fun, rejoice, and laugh. This is all children need to feel like real kids. And for parents, there is nothing better than seeing their children happy.

They arrive home closer to evening. They have dinner together with the children. They organize a small family celebration for themselves. They laugh wholeheartedly and are happy with every word from the mouths of their loved ones. The future looks clear and joyful. The most precious people are nearby. The boy has everything he needs in life. Oliver hasn’t felt this happy next to his children and Cynthia in a long time.

He knows he has a family, parents, and loyal friends who are always there, ready to support and help. Even if he doesn’t ask them to. It’s enough just to know that they are all in his life. He used to feel warmth, comfort, and coziness, but he didn’t notice the most important thing, blinded by a persistent desire. Sometimes, one terrifying thought is enough to realize and see how rich and beautiful your life is. Oliver sees.