Tarot and the Medici Patience. Grimoire

Do we even have a fellowship of kindred spirits, or is that just a myth? Let them do some work for a change!

WHYYYYY am I the only one slaving away for everyone, like some kind of cursed wretch?!

Look at all these certified slackers idling about with nothing to do!

Alright, everyone, gather round for a quick briefing—briefed, signed the safety ledger, reviewed the spell texts, then off you scamper to the Kremer baths…29

…one, two, three-E-E-EEE… all together now (mind the language! It’s a spell for the ages, and heaven help our descendants translating the swears in the chronicles!) – ApplооооооооiiED—LIIIIIVED!!!

Just look at how beautifully they’re lying there!

Not a twitch! True professionals, every last one!

Why, they look almost uncannily alive!

You could slip their photos into a textbook this very instant—under the chapter 'Group Catastrophes with Fatal Outcomes,' subsection: 'Where It’s Thin, That’s Where It Tears…'

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I tried that approach a good dozen times or so (I was desperately eager to bewitch a certain comely princess from some rather ramshackle empire).

Everyone wanted to (well, at least while they were still among the living, naturally).

You start to think that maybe, for the sake of reliability, one ought to duplicate every piece of the system. Stabilize the channel—starting at about three corpses, er, I mean, mages per channel.

Or whatever happens to be around as a reality anchor…

…………………

HurraaaAA— not everyone died after the Spell was cast!!!

True, half the mountain range got blown away and the island's a bit askew now, but that's trivial—the main thing is, the Princess is in love!

…True, the Princess loves everyone en masse (the minx!), without troubling herself over details, but that's a mere trifle—a minor side effect.

But now we may proceed to the next matter…

…precisely, see, I still remember how to count—marvelous, isn’t it!

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Rice True heroes always keep to the ski trail30

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6. In fact, if one truly thinks about it… and, quite honestly, by point six thinking becomes inevitable…

…lo and behold, the same is written on clay tablets…well, inscribed…were inscribed…

…two thousand years ago…

…before our era…

…before people, that is…

…dragons…

…those who remain…

…because we never did finish learning properly, and so we couldn’t fly away to other worlds…

…pfft, I’m completely and utterly tangled up now…

…well, in the end, it turns out none of this matters!

…so here’s the point—why go through all the trouble of making your own apple? There are plenty lying around already!

The main thing is to be there at the right time, in the right place…

…

Look over there—yet another Princess (or at least, that’s what she thinks) is crossing the street!

Oh my, what an elegant turn of the ankle on those stilettos!

Right in front of a speeding KamAZ truck!!!31

And here I am, so dashing, all heroic—on a white drago…

Ugh, seriously, are there even dragons nowadays?—on a white hor…

Ugh, not that either! …white, white… white what, exactly?

…ah—turns out I’m an orderly, in a white… coat…

Noooo—it’s too late to be an orderly now! She’s not the same Princess anymore—who even wants her now, all banged up…

In white… white… but what sort of white, exactly? Ah—in a white Mercedes! Of course—how elegantly I maneuvered it into the path of the KamAZ and rescued the Princess!

That’s it!!!

Well—now the Princess owes me a life debt!

…oh, just imagine how much she owes me now—she’ll be paying it off for five years at the very least!

Nеееееее —that’s covert violence! That’s practically a crime! The Guardians never ever forgi-i-i-ive…

…

Alright, I’ve finally decided—I’ll be in the white KamAZ myself!

I, for heaven’s sake, cranked the wheel as hard as I couldааааааааand went straight into the wall… the white one…

…which is why the KamAZ is now white… but who cares…

But now the Princess is dazzling me with her blue spotlights!!!

…as if I were the one and only, incomparable grandfather of our grandchildren together!!!

There you have it – this is LOVE!

…goal achieved… and hardly any magical backlash at all…

…though, to be honest, the KamAZ isn't entirely convinced about the lack of backlash…

…what's left of the KamAZ…

…but really, who’s going to ask him all that much anyway?

…the KamAZ itself, you know…

After honing your skills in step six, trading in a couple (or maybe three) prettier princesses, and amassing a modest private fleet of assorted machinery, the next logical method for reducing magical backlash presents itself:

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Rice Chip dashes off to his Gadget.32

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7. No magic needed—there’s a whole ocean of princesses as it is…

At least one of them is yours…

Especially if you saved her…

Or if she saved you…

Honestly, it makes no real difference—the main thing is to clear out one side, and after that, the current finds its own way.

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So, let us, with a dash of mischief, summarize the stages of a mage’s evolution into a stalker. Let us, as they say, conduct a brief inventory:

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Section Summary of Chapter 2.

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1. Stage One.

The novice mage radiates puppyish delight and cocky self-assurance. The whole world, irrevocably and unmistakably, belongs to him and him alone.

He is bursting with strength, energy, and a total absence of negative experience.

He simply hasn’t realized yet that he’s young, but already a talented… idiot.

His first triumphs in Magic grant him the sacred conviction that he is capable of 'everything.' Granted, 'everything' itself has yet to learn that it is he who commands it.

Thus, he heeds no one; all advice, to him, is nothing but the hollow anxieties of the ancients. And so he barges forward, in the finest kamikaze tradition. Selecting, of course, the field where the rakes lie thickest and heaviest.

He has skimmed through Article One of any organization's charter—'The Commander is always right'—but pays it no mind for now.

He simply doesn’t have any spare time for that. He’s terribly busy! There’s so much wood to chop, so many bruises to earn! And now, if you please, a barrage of tedious rules, Laws, textbooks!

This is where the career of many an aspiring Mage, alas, ends—in a wheelchair and with a prodigious list of pills to earn or, at times, beg for, for the remainder of their Life.

Yes, yes, esteemed friends—an inevitable happy ending is but a covert marketing trick of Holly Wood, just to make the film sell better!

In the Real, you can't just save and reload!33

GAME OVER – you truly don't get a replay in this life!

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2. Stage Two.

After gaining his first real experience, the Mage discovers the World is not, in fact, the cherished, ever-accommodating mother’s bosom.

And this, one way or another, he must now take into account. It turns out, cavalry charges in Magic are a tad problematic—and, frankly, suicidal.

It’s better—and, far more importantly, safer—to do everything gradually and smoothly.

Then, perhaps, there will even be time to notice and reflect on where, how, and in what one was mistaken.

Those who become aware, surrender, and embrace this simple truth sometimes even manage to survive—and stand a fair chance of reaching the third stage of evolution.

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3. The Third Stage.

After the Mage has acquired a couple of spectacular bumps (all over his aura), tested his Health for durability, and his body and hide for regeneration, he cools off a bit and begins to behave more or less rationally. The Magician now sets about learning the fundamentals of Magic much more diligently and thoughtfully.

And not by leaping straight into practice, as he once did, but first by devoting attention to theory. And—oh, miracle of miracles—even seeks counsel and asks others, 'So how is it actually done, colleagues?' He even begins to heed the opinions of his senior peers, though they are hardly aflame with the desire to divulge their secrets.

The Magician’s transition to the next stage of evolution depends profoundly on his manners, friendliness, and powers of communication. Some, at this stage, succeed in falling out with the entire World. Others, on the contrary, choose their enemies in smaller numbers but with a much thicker, juicier aura—secure in the hope that these battle-hardened Magicians will surely do them in, properly, thoroughly, and with a lifetime guarantee.

The secret to a Mage’s passage to the next level is humility and a lack of malice. No Mage has ever died of humility. But every second one has ended up six feet under—thanks to swaggering bravado and cocky pride.

But even that often proves insufficient.

Only in celebrated TV series do underdogs—howling at anyone who'll listen from the very first episode—live on, just to spite their enemies and the mighty of the World, until the inevitable victorious finale: healthy, glowing, and happy.

Yet one should clearly understand that this happy ending is nothing more than a marketing trick for the world's largest focus group—outsiders and misfits.

In the Real, it is usually those modest souls who quarrel with no one and are desperately needed by everyone who survive. There are some you simply can't do without!

Like dentists or plumbers, for example.

Eras change, flags and dictators rise and fall, but the need for dentists, plumbers, janitors, cleaners, and all kinds of service folk endures under any regime worth its salt.

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4. Stage Four.

After the Mage gains access to global Flows and powers, he acquires a taste of Beyond-the-Limit interaction with force.

At last, on his own skin—vividly and painfully—he grasps his place in the evolutionary chain of Spirit.

A place as humble as it is fragile. He even begins to view ants—and all manner of little bugs—with newfound respect. For he too could so easily have been crushed by some passing Archangel, flattened like a bug, and never even noticed.

And yet, strangely enough, here he is—still alive, somehow. This singular fact casts him into a deep, lifelong contemplation, and endows him with a remarkable politeness, tact, and composure toward all.

Only then does he stand a chance of progressing to the next stage.

Those who fail to cultivate these skills sooner or later cross the path of a Siddha or a Demiurge—perhaps on holiday and decidedly out of sorts—and are swiftly and cheerfully reincarnated as stammerers and mutes (the latter is a precaution, and believe me, it's not the worst fate to be had).34

By the way, an Anecdote on this theme:

A hippopotamus is paddling down the river.

Suddenly, around the next bend, he spots a mob of baboons pummeling some hapless hippo for no apparent reason.

(B) – WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU MISCREANTS DOING! – bellows the behemoth at the monkeys with all his might.

(O) – Today, we're thrashing anyone who opens their mouth too wide, – the monkeys respond to the behemoth.

(B) – aaaaa… well, well…

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5. Stage Five.

At this stage, the Mage begins to realize that there is an enormous, truly monstrous, gap between theory and practice. This has to do with the fact that theory is always significantly divorced from the Real. And it is practice that constantly affirms this divide through experience.

Especially in the case of magic—where, damn it, the confirmation is overwhelmingly painful, and more often than not, delivered posthumously.

The Mage’s journey involves improving not only through practice, but by continually refining and revising their grasp of theory.

Otherwise, quite simply, survival is not an option.

Only as an experienced and cautious (read: still among the living!) practitioner does the theorist of magic stand a chance of making it to the next evolutionary stage.

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6. The Sixth Stage.

Those who survived the previous stages and, time and again, wagered their battered hides, have all stumbled upon a disarmingly simple revelation. All bicycles in this World are invented many, many, many times over.

And rather than squandering time and energy, or imperiling one’s Health and very Life, one need only stroll into the library and have a rummage among the shelves. It’s quicker, safer, and, as a Rule, more effective than those clumsy, self-assured solo exploits.

Indeed, books from different ages, races, and tongues often mutually complete one another.

And the older the book, and the deader the language in which it is written, the greater the treasures it tends to conceal, as a Rule.

This seemingly obvious Truth becomes a marvelous revelation—a tool—for those who have uncovered it through their own adventure.

And those who have taken it into their toolkit, branded upon bone and etched into reflexes, stand every chance of advancing to the next level.

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7. The Seventh Stage.

At this level, a simple truth is revealed.

In most cases, there's absolutely no need to stubbornly champion your own unique and irreproducible (usually, thanks to its distinctly elementary and one-of-a-kind foolishness) path. It's enough simply to synchronize yourself with The World and the processes unfolding within it. And thus achieve everything you so earnestly desired—and even more—virtually without effort.

Much like a sparrow, who fussily flutters its wings and crosses several kilometers. And the albatross travels thousands of kilometers without even ten wingbeats.35

It's a paradox, it appears utterly impossible, and yet so it is.36

Thus, mages become stalkers… At least, those who survive long enough to see it.

The chief distinction between a stalker and a mage (as the term is commonly understood) is that the stalker does not reinvent the wheel, nor does he force his way through the tunnel of probabilities. Instead, he treads already-made paths and rides ascending flows, arriving—almost effortlessly—precisely where the World needs him at this very moment. In that role which the world demands, and the stalker finds intriguing.

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…and for the one who walks the Path, there are always plenty of interesting roles, scenes, and worlds…

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Homework Section No. 2.

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Rice We walk the difficult road to Emerald City…3738

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1. For each of items 1–7 in the subchapter 'Summary of Chapter 2', find images or photos online that could serve as a kind of epigraph or conclusion for each point.

Print them out and paste them into your journal. Justify your choice of image in writing.

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2. Identify the stages of human development, from conception onwards.39

As an example, search and study 'The Ballad of Childhood' by V. Vysotsky on the Internet, on YouTube.

Somewhere between 5 and 10.

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3. Highlight the TYPES of mistakes that occur at each stage of human development.

Such as: critical errors, fatal mistakes, and so on, and so forth…40

5 to 10, or more if you wish. Naturally, with examples. Add more, stir to taste.

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4. Identify, at each stage of human development, the acquired traits of character and consciousness that allow a person to move from one stage to the next.

Five to ten should do—or more, if you wish.

Be sure there are no gaps in your classification under point 2.

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5. Consolidate your answers from points 2–4 into a single, interconnected table or diagram.

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6. Repeat the analysis on your own, this time concerning the Mage.

Make a table as in question 5, only now for the Mage.

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7. How can one improve the Mage’s chances of survival?

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Rice Knowledge flies in one ear and out the other. The Understanding gained through your own toil remains forever with the Enlightened!41

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Chapter 3 No need to be clever here—just point with your finger!

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Rice Hovering in subspace, swaying in the wind. The East, hammered in place, sways in the wind. Gone without a sign. Gone without a sign. Gone without a sign. A Sign would have done the trick.42

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A jest…

A well-known Anecdote.

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The Arctic Ocean—wind, frost, a sky draped with clouds, hanging a hundred meters above your head. Upon the leaden water, an Eskimo’s kayak bobs to and fro. A hunched Eskimo is casting about in the water for something—or perhaps anything—that hasn’t yet had the good sense to make for Sochi or Turkey, at least according to his compass.

Suddenly, the water begins to roil and bubble furiously, and a rather battered submarine pops up nearby, its hatch swinging open. Out onto the deck climbs a captain swathed in an enormous black cloak. He spends an age flipping through some obscure reference book, then launches into a recital of the various dialects spoken among the peoples of the Far North. He opens the conversation with such gems as, 'Yes, I am Captain Two Wrench, and who are you?' The Chukchi, squinting, makes a desperate attempt to tilt his head upwards—though it never has, nor ever needed to before. Finally, in the grand style of the Russian stage, he ‘casts a sidelong glance and bows his head low,’ for his head stubbornly refuses to tilt upwards; and so, in impeccable English, he poses the classic geologist’s question on the third day of searching for oil amid crates of empty vodka bottles:43

‘So, what do you want, officer?’

To this, he receives a bewildered reply from the captain, who is trying his utmost to speak English as purely as an Eskimo:

‘Might the esteemed Sir Chukchi kindly direct me to the side of the world where our Lord and His Son’s blessed America lies?’

To which the Eskimo replies:

‘South-south-east, 250 miles—just mind the banks near the shore.’

After that, the captain, utterly at a loss, gloomily descends the hatch and disappears. An Eskimo is busy catching something distilled from whatever once overheated in the tropics and now, as horoscopes insist, is chilling nicely by your beer.

Time passes.

The water fizzes and bubbles anew, and up surfaces a Russian submarine, rocking and staggering in the oddest way.

Barely alive, the boatswain hauls himself out on all fours and, bellowing somewhere below: 'Ah, it’s nothing! We’ll sort it out, captain! Who needs that compass anyway—there were two liters of spirits in there! Can’t let good stuff go to waste!'—then, squinting to focus on the Chukchi, he roars in a hoarse bass:

– Hey, Chukchi, which way is Murmansk?

To which he receives the reply:

– Nor'west-west, about three thousand miles, give or take. Just don't tip the boat over, boatswain, please, when you start diving.

To which the boatswain bellows angrily:

– Don't get clever, you rascal, don't get clever! Just point your finger and show me which way to sail…

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So, what is Stalking, in plain terms?

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Rice Hey, you! Yes, you—I'm talking to you! Come over here! We're going to share, brother to brother, as it should be, whatever God has sent your way.44

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Evening falls… Yet another young Mage, following in the noblest tradition of fools and failures, has read fantasy novels to the point of utter 'shutdown' and now, with the uncertain gait of a sleepwalker, retreats to his burrow in his beloved five-story tower, there to blissfully enter suspended animation—at least until something pure, good, and luminous comes along: the release of a new remake in which he—cover to cover—is the Great and Powerful.

Meanwhile, the forces of darkness—represented by an up-and-coming petty criminal known as Lisp (three years probation under Article 213) and a pack of a couple more young, talented rascals—had gathered themselves into a pack, loitering in the entryway, sipping drinks, and searching for something soft and yielding on which to train their still-fragile psyches.

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Rice Once I ascend to Magicianhood—then they will know! Their time grows short! In just a year, the new season shall dawn!45

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Possible courses of further development:

Option 1: Our hero noticed Shepelyavy only when he had already slithered across the entire screen. Frantic searching for the mouse with his right hand and feverishly clicking the left button, together with the mysterious absence of a Sight on the screen, made discourse with the people of this mighty Mage rather complicated.

The last record left on the hard drive that day—a smeared, 60-hertz, dirty palm. She veiled The World entire, flipped it over, and smothered its light. He didn’t even notice how, right behind him, a young but already promising KMS in 'judo before' and 'judo after' soared up onto the landing. And then, with supreme confidence, began weaving macrame from the young—yet already so talented—ne’er-do-wells.

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Rice. Now, what have we here? Nagual or Tonal? Perhaps, just for fun, he should throw in a smidge?4647

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Option two: Our young wizard was so caught up in dreams that he slipped and scattered all his fantasy tales right by the front door. And while he was gathering them, in burst Gavrila—young, but already a fading KMS boxing hopeful—who dashed up the stairs and promptly tripped over Lisping. What followed was a brief but meaningful exchange.

During their short discussion, it was decisively established that a left hook holds a clear advantage over mere bravado, including bravado in street slang. In the process, Gavrila nonchalantly affirmed Lisping’s nickname in the finest traditions of the trade—with a confirming kick to the head.48

The young sorcerer, drenched in cold sweat and gingerly sidestepping bloodied snot and vomit, scampered quickly into his burrow. He then sighed with relief, hurriedly opened his dose—pardon me, his book, of course, his book—and happily lost himself on the second level of the Book about Him! The Great One! Hallelujah!