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"You use logic, and I use knowledge. That's why my actions don't always find an explanation in your head.
"Andryukhina, too," the boy added.
"Andryukhina, too," Tikhon agreed, smiling. – Volume… you see, Alexey, we are not engaged in business, it is important for us not the number of services rendered, but the quality.
– As far as I know, there have never been any complaints about the quality. We see what happens when you play. But still I don't understand how in this case the number can interfere?
– I'm talking about another quality… not about the game.
"I don't understand, sorry?"
– In our business, the structure is very important. We raise the frequencies of people's consciousness and space in a strictly defined direction. This process should not be chaotic.
The guy's expression was blank.
– Well, I will explain on a banal example, – Tikhon answered a silent question. "Imagine you're making jam." Here you have collected the right amount of berries, washed it, poured it into the pan.
– Sugar should be sprinkled then in the right proportion! – Alexey joined the process.
"That's right! Now, you already know that proportion is important. But in addition to the dose, let's call it that, it is also important to constantly stir while the jam is cooking. This is done in order…
– So that the sugar is evenly distributed and that it does not burn!
– Great! You know. In our case, the situation is similar. If we pour all the sugar into only one part of the pan, and do not stir-the jam will not work. Sour and what is left without sugar and throw out what will be candied to the point of absurdity. In jam, as in any other process of creation, a certain distribution of sugar particles between the berry particles is important. This order of strict correspondence between atoms and particles is maintained everywhere on Earth. And not only on Earth.
"I wonder if you can tell me."
– No, Lesh, maybe another time. Go get ready, we'll leave tomorrow.
The guy bowed and left. But just a few seconds later he returned.
"Forgot something?"
– Still… if I may…
"Well?"
– Your performances do not support the form of voluntary payment for listening. People don't throw money at you. What funds do you use to pay us? What do you live on?
Tikhon smiled slyly. The guy looked confused.
"Let it be my little secret. By the way, what about the payment? Enough money?
– No, that's fine. More than enough. We do not know where to spend the accumulated funds.
"I think you can sort this out somehow," Tikhon said cheerfully.
– Let's see, spending is not earning. Okay, tomorrow is tomorrow. We'll get ready.
The guy went out. Tikhon took a map from the tube, unfolded it, and, finding his place of residence on it, circled the city in a circle. There were already many such circles on the map. These encircled the city has formed a certain network in a strictly proportional conformity.
The drummer rolled up the map, put it in the tube, took out a dusty bag, looked into it, and emptied the contents. Several bills fell on the table.
"We need to replenish our supplies."
He took one of the bills, looked at it carefully, and put it in his bag. Then he did the same with the other bills. When I put the last one in, the bag was full of cash. Money somehow mysteriously multiplied hundreds of times.
"Having fun?" a pleasant, velvety voice came from the corner of the room.
Tikhon smiled, recognized the visitor, and answered without turning around:
"It's been a long time, Isaiah…
***
Gunmen in black masks, with the words "OMON" on their uniforms, cautiously began to approach the house, which was riddled up and down. The neighbors fled in terror to their homes and hid in distant rooms. Such events have never been seen in this suburb of the city before. Riot police surrounded the house from all sides, two people got inside through broken Windows, three more broke into the door. There were shouts and shots inside, but after a minute everything was quiet. A special forces soldier appeared in the doorway and shouted:
"Empty! They left.
"How did they leave?" They were here a minute ago, I could clearly hear them through the transmitter! "Yes," said one of the men, who seemed to be the leader.
"The transmitter is here, but they are not," said another soldier, who appeared in the doorway. In his hands was a girl's clothing with a beacon embedded in it.
***
The girl was pounding on a nervous basis. A small tremor had not left her naked body for a quarter of an hour. Gideon bathed in the pond, glancing from time to time at the shivering "friend" whose hair was dripping with water.
– Yeah… the water is cool today, you're right. But it was necessary to take a dip, especially for you.
"What's that?" the girl stammered and trembled.
– Victoria, honey, I want to wish you a happy birthday, unscheduled, let's call it that. Accept your real name as a gift. Make new documents, this is not a problem, but I'm sorry for things, there was no time to pull out the transmitter. But I can offer you my shirt, it is quite long, and what is especially nice – without a beacon.
The girl cast a quick, wary glance in Gideon's direction. He smiled and continued:
– There is a village a few kilometers away, we will get some clothes for you there, don't worry.
– Cccac TTY Etto sdelal?
"In your order, students are not allowed to learn the technique of moving through space. Although Bartholomew himself and several of his associates possess it perfectly. Here you go!
The guy got out on the Bank and handed the girl his shirt.
– It's warm, you'll warm up quickly. I'd like a hot Cup of tea right now. Sorry I didn't have time to grab the cups and teapot, it would have been very useful.
– Mmmy ctto teleportirovat?
The girl looked around, touched the grass, her hands, her feet. Then quickly threw on a shirt, and calmed down a little, quietly said:
"So that's how it works…
"Not always. There are several techniques for moving. In this case, it was wise to use this one.
***
The sun was beginning to set. A girl in a shirt walked silently across the endless fields, Gideon at her side. His face shone with true joy, and it was evident to the naked eye that this man's heart was in love.
Several times he looked cautiously at the girl in surprise, as if reading an interesting question in her mind, but then quickly turned away and continued on his way as if nothing had happened.
When the girl, once again, by her inner reasoning and the silent murmur of her lips, caused an interesting look from the fellow-traveller, Gideon suddenly said:
– Yeah…, I also love the poems of this poetess.
These words hit the girl like boiling water on the back. She started, and fixed a shrewd glance on her companion.
"Good poems, aren't they?" And the situation has… harmony, " Gideon said.
"So you're also a mind reader?" Who the hell are you?
– These poems, like many others, were written by a beautiful, bright woman.
Victoria, with a look, insisted on her question.
"I introduced myself, Gideon, but that's a narrow view of the world. And in a large-scale sense-your brother. Father we have one – without thinking the guy replied.
– God? the girl quipped.
"That's the one."
"And you believe this nonsense?"
"Which one?"
"That God exists?"
"I can't help believing in him when he's in front of me."..
The girl was slightly taken aback.
"Are you suggesting that I'm a God?"
"And you, too."
"Who else?" You?
– Not only.
"Oh, Yes, and all the other people…
"They are, of course, but they are only a small part of God.
– Wait, you said that we have one father – this is God, and now you say that I am God and you are God. There's a discrepancy in your hypothesis, buddy.
– There is no discrepancy. One does not contradict the other, moreover, it complements it. The only question is that words, of any language – are very trivial in the matter of conveying the truth. Therefore, when transmitting information from the source to the addressee through the word, the picture is often greatly distorted.
– Wiggled. So, okay, let's go on, so we're all just a small part of God? Who are the others? Aliens? Are you saying they're there, too? I've never met one.
"That's not true, you've met a lot of visitors from other constellations and even from neighboring universes in your life. Another question is that they do not seek to give themselves away, so they appear before the earthlings in their usual image.
"Them?" Don't you consider yourself an earth person?
"Let's just say I'm a "man of the world." Don't take it literally, because it won't be quite right. If you, when you say God, mean a bearded old man on one of the clouds-then of course this is fiction and in this case you can say that there is no God. But in fact, there is only an illusion about God, however, that there is an illusion… This is an extensive topic, and we can talk about it some other time. God is all that surrounds us. Everything visible and invisible. The one who created all this, who is all this. The one who manifests himself through all that you can feel, breathe, touch, see, understand, comprehend and create, just like The one you are a part of.
The girl looked at Gideon thoughtfully, then suddenly said:
"So you're saying my real name is Victoria?"
– Yeah.
"How do you know all this?"
"I was once a member of the order of the Black hand, and you know that special people are accepted there.
"I found out about the order not so long ago. I'm not one of the chosen ones you're talking about. I met Bartholomew by chance. I was his for a while… girl.
– A strong old man, I admire his desire to live in all its manifestations.
"Old man?"
– Well, Yes.
The girl frowned.
"Do you know how old he is?" Gideon asked.
I asked several times, but each time he evaded the question. I think he's in his early fifties, but he looks forty-two. I know what you're thinking, I was only thirty-four a week ago, but I was really interested in him. Maybe I even loved him. I don't know why he treated me like this.
"It doesn't take a reason for Bartholomew to send a man to his death, but still, I think you just got too close to him at a certain point and learned more than you should have."
"I found out about the order a few days ago, not from him.
"Well, that's the answer.
"But he doesn't know anything."
"Bartholomew is a very difficult man, Victoria. And, I'll slightly disappoint you, he's not in his early fifties, he's in his early hundreds!
"I don't believe it!"
