The Children of Zegandaria by Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov (top novels to read .TXT) 📕

Peos Ki Sor was among the last anyway and was fighting for its survival. But either way, everyone was Entitled to a place on this land. It was his firm belief.

- "Look, just how long are you planning on keeping your boy here?," the stranger took a second look at the unsightly place. "I even heard that the farmers are preparing a rebellion or something."

- "Sir, you'll never understand the feelings of one of us. We depEnd on nature. And if she has condemned us to death, so be it!," Peos Ki Sor tapped his fingers nervously on the table.

- "Why are you stubborn like that?," the stranger asked him a little impatiently. "Not much is asked of you. And frankly I'm sparing you the need to feed him."

- "That's impossible. I'll cede it to you, but I must have something in return," spat the other.

- "Well, well, what exactly do you want?," the strange guest did not stiffen.

- "Well, ten thousand electronic credits," said the other without blinking an eye.

The stranger made a slow movement and fumbled in a special compartment of his spacesuit. Then from there into the farmer's suit passed several rather large wads. His face remained impenetrable.

After the transaction was over, both men visibly relaxed.

- "Well, where is he?," asked the guest, evidently burning with impatience to leave the place.

- "Well, around here, surely," the farmer squeaked. "He's playing somewhere."

- "Archie, Archie, my boy," he raised his voice.

In a moment Archibald himself appeared. Just as he was. A peasant boy with blue eyes reminiscent of deep lakes. He wanted to say something, but stopped himself. He stared curiously at the dark silhouette of the man near his father.

- "Why don't we go outside for a bit," Peos suggested. "It's a bit depressing out here."

- "Well, why not!," agreed the stranger.

When they came out in front, they saw beautiful clouds over a lush green plain sown with elendorans. The fields stretched far ahead - as far as the eye could see. Each plot was carefully numbered and tended by the proud owner - Mr Peos. For the first harvest he sometimes needed numerous helpers, whom he paid out of his own pocket. And the expenses did not always justify the income.

- "I have a lot of debts," muttered the man, when the boy went aside a little and played with a beam. "The creditors are breathing down my neck."

- "I see," was the stranger's curt reply. "But, let me tell you this, you've lived all these years thanks to me."

The farmer gasped. He remembered his son's strange words when someone had paid off their mortgage a few years ago.

- "So you've been secretly helping us!," he marvelled.

- "That's right," agreed the strange man. "This boy is going to become perhaps the greatest technical genius on this planet. And you will have done a really good deed."

The two shook hands and parted.

The farmer remained staring after the strange visitor to whom he owed so much for a long time. Deep down, he felt that he was unlikely to see his young son again soon, and perhaps he would never hear his tinkling laughter in the farm yard again.

He was lost in thought. When he looked up, the stranger was gone.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO: THE MYSTERIOUS ENEMY

Von Meilovich's hypothesis seemed a revolutionary discovery, but there were many others who disagreed with his understandings.

Having had a good night's sleep, they went back to the laboratory.

- "So, you say, my dear, that everything lies in our brains," repeated Jack Di Mons again. "That's impressive, really. But I wonder if someone hasn't arrived at this revolutionary discovery before you."

- "Look," began the cowboy, "if we look at it realistically, most people use a significantly small part of their brain, don't they?"

Dee Mons nodded in agreement.

- "In that line of thought, the so-called functional asymmetry should be the starting point of our research," Von Meilovich sighed excitedly, "You know perfectly well that one hemisphere of the brain is the dominant one, but the much more important thing is that somewhere in there lies the key to the mystery."

Ursula von der Lan was taking notes most diligently and had focused her full attention on her colleague's witty deductions.

- "Well, let us assume that everything is exactly right and you are right. These people are something like chameleons among us," interjected Doctor Ser Mac Zon. "They can fit into any possible environment and speak on any subject, but deep down they are convinced that somewhere in there they will be able to pEnetrate everywhere. They are the ones who can truly switch their consciousness on different levels without any prior purification procedure."

- "Yes," was the cowboy's reply, "that is the basis of my hypothesis. And in general, I even think that some of them are capable of much more."

- "The only question is, how do we find them?," Ursula joined the conversation. "Somewhere out there they live and die in the thrall of their joys and sorrows, craving liberation every day, but it never comes for most of them."

- "The brain functions strangely, but perhaps they are people of pure consciousness," Von Meilovich added. "They are what are called seekers. They will stop at nothing in their desire to get to the truth."

The three laughed together. Von Meilovich went to one corner of the laboratory and looked at something in Sacklin's notes.

- "I just can't understand why Sacklin changed his name when they were brothers," he stroked his head thoughtfully. "I'm sure it will make a real difference given that we want to solve the mystery as soon as possible. Otherwise it could get dangerous."

- "It seems to me that Sacklin also wanted to hide something else," Jack Di Mons murmured thoughtfully. "He had some other idea. But what? For so many years no one had even suspected that the two were brothers and now this."

Ser Mac Zon watched the interactions between the two and listened most carefully to their concerns. Maybe they were right, maybe they weren’t. But in the bottom of his soul, he knew better - he couldn't work with guesswork.

He also knew that there was a second part of the recording, but he couldn't trust and provide it to his ward yet.

The rest of the message read, top to bottom, as follows:

"I feel I am dying, but the underlying cause of my death may be much more trivial. Something is going on inside my brain. I've been hiding my illness all these years. I soon decided to test my IQ level and found out it had passed the psychological four hundred mark. But I was at the fifth level of virtual reality without even knowing what was happening. That's where I saw my worst nightmares - I saw my own split self falling apart and my soul with nowhere to go. I ran into another naked man who was amazed why I was there and I told him he was my enemy. He may have misunderstood me. I know I sound more and more confused. I'm going to call it a day."

Ursula von der Lan coughed into her little handful:

- Sorry to interrupt.

Ser Mac Zohn snorted and mentioned to her that maybe that would be the solution to the riddle.

The two of them listened to the recording again while Von Meilovich and Jack Di Mons did a simulated test on a cerebral cortex they had obtained from one of the mysterious killer's many victims.

- "It's worth checking," she said.

- "Extravagant, but true nonetheless," Jack Di Mons murmured, hearing the recording. "Quite an amusing story."

Somewhere out there Von Meilovich was checking his hypothesis again.

- "I think a little correction is needed," he said. "Without it, all my work goes to waste."

CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE: PSYCHOPATH

The inside of the mind determines many things - one of them is what a person is like inside. Some are like a rotten Ceburnagian apple and even their core is nothing like that. It was important to note that lack of consciousness was not the defining factor in this case. Many had the psyche of a serial killer or even a psychopath, but few had the strength to be one, or more accurately, to live such a life. Everyone knew there were psychopaths who didn't want to leave, and also those who mimicked an excellent sense of empathy. That was what it said in any average textbook on pathoanatomy. It was hard to get to know them at all, but once one did you could just see that their path led nowhere. The thought of it was frightening.

What was extremely frightening was that in the afterlife a terrible sentence had been assigned to them that would sooner or later be carried out, and they were only delaying its execution. They were lying to themselves, which was pathetic. But it was their only chance to "live", which would be redeemed little by little in eternity.

In the depth of their feelings, many were somehow neglecting reality. Their lives consisted of short ten or fifteen year periods in which they "lived" by mimicking empathy. Om Gur Nal was also one of them. Om Gur Nal was thirty-five years old and as we well know had been in power for about five. This was not a small thing, but he knew something terribly interesting.

Before he was crowned supreme lord by his bootlickers of the so-called Zegandarian Confederation, a terribly handsome young man approached him and spoke to him kindly:

- Future Supreme Lord, I have the honour of being close to your highness, who is so exciting. What is your secret?

Om Gur Nal pretended not to hear him. He had no time to argue with various leetle people who had not an ounce of self-respect - it was unforgivable and even disgusting. But on the other hand he had to maintain his 'mask' in front of the others.

- I will show all those people who are willing and have come to see me that I am an extremely approachable person. I do not intend to deprive anyone present of my aura and I want to give them my grace. At this ceremony people need to start a new life!

The little man bit his lip as he heard the future sovereign's response, but he did it so unnoticeably that it was almost impossible for even Om Gur Nal to notice.

- Fortunately, there weren’t many people around to overhear the curious conversation.

So many expectant faces were transfixed