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  TATYANA MARTIROSYAN (SELF-TRANSLATION)
  
  AND I THREW THE COIN
  
   "And when I see something like that, I want to kill both a chauffeur and a woman: him because he demands a fare from her, and her because she asks for compensation for her killed son... Though I do understand how dreadful her life is... And the chauffeur is right, too... being actually a freshly-made-businessman."
   Hayk was speaking with pauses, as if provoking me to object. But I did not feel like arguing. I understood him. This was a typical piece of today"s transport situation, and listening to Hayk, I saw, on my inner screen, the furious chauffeur and the old woman uttering words of rage and pain, a certificate on her son killed at Karabakh war in shaking hands.
   "... and she got a stray bullet..."
   "Who?"
   "Have you listening to me? My dog. I had a dog before the war. And she tagged after me. She loved me so much that she could not live without me. She was running after the lorry and whining. And I took her with me. And she got killed with a stray bullet... She would have died anyway..."
   Good Lord, he is suffering from guilt about a dog!
   She could not live without him and got a bullet for that.
   I wonder what it"s like to get a bullet while enjoying the company of the adored owner and being sure that everything must be okay once he"s around.
   Where was that bullet going? What does a stray bullet mean in the context of the principle of determinacy?
   "... and there is nobody to talk to. Nobody cares about what one is suffering. Nor even parents. All they want to know is that I am safe and sound... Well, I understand. But my best friend was killed right in front of my eyes; died within a few minutes. After that, I started seeing things differently... Once I stopped dead in the middle of a battle, at its height. I was standing there like an idiot thinking, "What the hell am I doing here? What"s all this for?"
   "There will always be wars."
   "Oh no!"
   "You"re confused to have heard such an assertion from a woman, aren"t you? But my criteria and the threshold of sensitivity also changed... after all that. And the sense of reality disappeared somewhere. Whether all that really happened to me? Two years ago we were happy together. Why do I feel nothing but compassion now?
   As to the all-world-peace... well, to establish that peace, we need either to change the nature of human beings or to impose certain conditions upon them. In both cases it would no longer be human life but something different. Life dies once a scheme, however excellent, is put on it."
   "Well, if you really think so, it"s awful."
   "You know what? I"d like to have been at war."
   "What for?"
   "May be if I were frightened of death, I would feel alive."
   "What a rot! There is no need for you to go there. You just can"t imagine..."
   "Yes, I can. You"re telling me stories, and I imagine them. But I want to see it myself. Though, perhaps I am lying. To be honest, I want to find out if I get frightened."
   "You know what, I went to war because... no, of course, it was patriotism and all that, but it was also for I needed to convince myself that I was not a coward."
   Hayk volunteered for the army, though he could have stayed at home.
  Does it deserve respect?
   Despite all the evil intrinsic to any war, I"d unconditionally say yes. I respect the pacifists, I also don"t condemn those who had fled abroad, but I admire volunteers. There"s nothing to be done, this is the ancient feminine instinct-attraction to a tough guy. However...
   I remembered another volunteer, just a kid. He was nineteen, he left university and went to war; a mutual friend brought him to me on his first leave. The guy had that absolutely estranged, almost mad look. He never managed to focus his glance at the face of his interlocutor or even to look straight at something in front of him. His eyes as if were always falling somewhere. And he kept trying to tell something, but just repeated, "It"s all wrong, Ando, it"s all wrong!"
   Sure, it"s all wrong when the best commanders are being shot in the back. It"s all wrong when a tank moves across the minefield with a virtuosity of a ballerina doing fouetté turns, then stops in front of our fortifications, and a Russian officer shouts coolly, "Hey you, guys, seen how I"ve passed through? We"ve got all of your maps! So, leave in good time while you"re whole. Today you"re expected to be retreating." And, certainly, it"s all wrong when looters of all ranks are prospering.
   Looters are the real winners in all the battles in the world.
   The guy got killed by a stray bullet as soon as he returned back to the front.
   I wonder if he still thinks that it"s all wrong.
   Hayk does not look like a child. He"s twenty five. He has cold, hard stare. Against the light, his brown eyes shine with yellow tigerish glitter. Nose is broken, almost flattened; apparently, it"s a payment for the black belt. He looks very handsome in his black-and-green uniform. And he has none of the complexes our nation is destined to.
   Discouraged by my silence, Hayk, too, stopped talking. I took advantage of the pause, grabbed my coat, and approached the mirror.
   And immediately a black-and-green shadow arose behind me.
   "I can"t resist anymore", he whispered.
   A pair of very familiar strong hands squeezed my shoulders. A pair of golden brown eyes looked at me with very familiar self-confidence. However, that tigerish look did not captivate me like it used to; strangely enough, it annoyed me.
   "Stop it!"
   "Why?"
   "Leave me alone!"
   "Oh, what a tone!"
   He released me, stepped aside, smirked.
   "Now, explain why this tone?" he smirked again.
   "Well, sorry for the tone, but..."
   "Don"t! I get it."
   "What?"
   "I shouldn"t have left two years ago when we quarreled and you kicked me out... And today I came here like a bolt from the blue... after two years... right?"
   "No."
   "Okay. Now, just give me a straight answer to a straight question. Do you still have feelings for me?"
   Heaven knows, I dreaded that question. How to say no to a man who faces a risk every day?
   And what on Earth made him to have found me now? Was it a sudden burst of recollection? Or despair of an intellect trapped in the body which they beat at trainings every day?
   And what if I said yes? What if a miracle happened? What if a slumbering fire turned into a joyful and violent flame of passion?
   Somewhere nearby, the arrows clinked in the quiver of the light-winged eternal child. I felt the wind hitting my face. His motorcycle, how we raced all over the town back then!
  "How"s the motorcycle?"
   "What?"
   "Your bike, I loved it so much..."
   "It"s gone. I sold it. I had to."
   "Sold? Sold the bike? How could you?"
   "I had an accident. I told you, didn"t I?"
   Shit! He sold the bike! It was then that I felt pain. I felt nothing when he mentioned his wound, I didn"t remember any accident, but I did feel sorry for the motorcycle. A rather terrible inversion of feelings, isn"t it? I felt ashamed.
   I looked at Hayk. He understood.
   "Relax, you don"t owe me anything."
   Well, he"s a psychologist anyway, at least, according to a diploma.
   "You"re not obliged to have any feelings for me."
   "One feeling I certainly have: it"s warm, bright, brotherly... no-sisterly..."
   "Well, that"s nice."
   "Hum!"
   The golden tiger"s skin sparkled behind the black trunks of trees. He disappeared leaving broken branches, and the thickets closed as the sound of crackling twigs faded away.
   "Well, I like being with you. Even if nothing is likely to be returned... I want you, but I"ll wait until you want me. It"s up to you."
   "And what if I don"t?"
   "Hum!"
   "Oh, what a grimace!"
   "Take it easy, I just need to piss."
   I burst into laughter.
   "Splendid! I do appreciate sincerity."
   "But I don"t like sincere women. Women are sincere only when they want to inflict pain."
   I squeezed his hand, felt his returned squeeze, stood on my tiptoes, touched his face slightly.
   Slightly. Very slightly. Too slightly.
   That"s the reason: the magic had gone. The light-winged young god had thrown away his bow and arrows and gone to sleep.
   I stepped aside.
   "Tell me, why don"t you have a girlfriend?"
   He froze for a moment, and then shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.
   "Ah, I have no idea."
   "Sounds strange, especially for a psychologist."
   "My mode of life just does not allow it."
   "No serious relationship-that"s what it means-nothing deep, high or even broad; the only thing allowed is to glide over the surface. And what is always floating on the surface? Just guess.
   "Fie! I"ve never expected you to say a thing like that."
   "Hum! Well, so, let put it this way: blinding golden specks of light are floating here, on the surface. At night they"ll turn silver."
   "I wonder if it"s possible to glide "over the high"."
   "Yeah, I"d call it to soar."
   "And "over the depth"?"
   "Yeah, if you drown."
   "If you drown and stick to the bottom ..."
   "You"ll have been lying there for a year, then for two, then..."
   "Then some son of a bitch comes and demands something..."
   "Not "something" but fragrant freshly-opened roses."
   "Roses... Fair and fresh were the roses..."
   "A free retelling of Turgenev"s poem?"
   "No. A guy from my unit... Once they delivered us to... to some town. And it happened to be his native town. And he said, "I wish I could see home!" So, we went. The building was destroyed, as it might be expected, to the ground. But the garden survived. And the roses, they were freshly-opened, as you said, they were blossoming. He then fell to his knees and cried. Then we picked a huge bunch of those roses and brought it to his mother on our return. And she said right away, "They"re from our garden. How have you managed to get them?" She recognized them by smell."
   "You, bastard! You always turn it so that I feel guilty."
   "You, silly little thing! Why should you feel guilty? Quite opposite, it"s me who should ask for your forgiveness."
  "What for?"
   "For I"ve been a fool."
   "And now everything depends on me, doesn"t it? Pity, coins are out of circulation, otherwise, I"d bet on heads or tails."
   "Yeah, this is a severe drawback of our financial system. When I am elected President..."
   "In eight years. Are you willing to wait for my decision that long?"
   "Why eight?"
   "Two years ago you said ten."
   "You don't say so! Time"s flying."
   "Go get ready with your election speech."
   "It"s ready-"Come to me!" Well, my precious electorate, are you pro?"
   "First set forth your program for at least the nearest six months."
   "Well, I"m to fly a mission next week. Possibly, won"t come back.
   "Oh my god!"
   Horror-pity-admiration-guilt... Once again that thrilling mixture has seethed and foamed burning me with its hot splashes.
   Hell, no! Non bis in idem.
   "I hear a flourish of trumpets; I see young virgins crowning the hero... And you"ve come to me, keeping this in mind! After two years... Hell, you"ve even given me your unit phone number... What for? I would call you up some day just to hear that you"d got killed. Bastard!"
  "No, no. It"s all wrong. You got me wrong. I wasn"t going to say any of that. I just wanted to see you. It was nostalgia for those times."
   "Well, forgive me. Forgive me for all I"ve done."
   "Sounds like farewell."
   "Do you know what the most important thing in life is?"
   "No. But I bet, whatever you said, I"d find something more important."
   "It"s a deal."
   "Well?"
   "It"s the sense of reality. Now tell me something you consider real. If anything stops to exist, then it"s not real. If a living thing can be killed, if a feeling fades, if an idea can be profaned, then none is real. A man goes to war for freedom, fatherland, faith and finds a tissue of lies..."
   "But this is the law: life creates itself through death."
   "But I... I just don"t like it!"
   "Well, then forgive me for all I"ve done."
  
  
   I watched him disappear. The black-and-green jacket was swaying on the strong, broad shoulders.
   But back then he was wearing a black leather jacket. And when we were riding his bike, I used to press my cheek to the cool leather to escape the wind. Sometimes I stretched my arms like wings and he shouted, "Hold tight!"
   Three days later I dialed the unit number. A nasty bored voice of the orderly answered that Hayk was absent.
   The green leaf, the only one among his yellowed brothers, tore off and fell down, on the black wet concrete.
   "And when is he expected to come back?"
   "Not for today. His wife called this morning, their child had fallen ill... Are you there, lady?"
   When the grey fog in front of my eyes lifted, I flung the window open, tore the sheet of paper where he"d scribbled the phone number in small pieces and poured them onto the cupped hands of the autumn wind. I hesitated a moment, and then tore the coin he"d once presented me for good luck away from its chain.
  The wind failed to hold the coin. With a clink, it hit the ground right at the feet of a beggar-girl. She looked up. I curved my lips in an attempt to smile. The girl murmured something, picked up the coin, squeezed it tightly, and moved on.
  
  
  
  
  TATYANA MARTIROSYAN
  (SELF-TRANSLATION)
  
  IF EVE HAD OVERCOME THE TEMPTATION; or, THE CODE OF LIFE
  
  Eve was running fast and effortlessly. She was rushing forward dodging branches, jumping over brooks and rocks, pushing with pleasure off the soft ground and springy grass. The trees began to thin as if parting to open a big glade. Here, she was supposed to slow down. Too late! She dashed out into the open space, ran a few more steps and stumbled over a sharp root. She screamed with pain and nearly fell, yet she kept her feet and did not ram into the Forbidden Tree. There it is, standing in the middle of the glade; and the air around it is less transparent, as though denser, than elsewhere. And the sunlight embraces it as if without touching neither the dark green oblong leaves nor the golden fruits. A truly special tree... A light breeze blew off the river, and Eve saw that, having dashed against the Tree, it stopped exactly as she did. And where its breath touched the branches, a shimmer began to dance on the very ends of leaves. Eve reached out her hand; the same glow surrounded her stretched fingers. She withdrew her hand. Away from here! She ran back. The turn, another, here is the Big Fig Tree; here the lemon grove begins; here she should turn to the right...
  Just as she thought, Adam was sitting among the raspberry bushes, waiting for her. He had gathered berries and piled them on the lettuce leaves. How nice! Adam, how good, how handsome he is! Under the oblique rays of the setting sun his hair seems nearly raven black and his skin looks golden brown... What is he doing so absorbedly, without noticing her?
  "What are you doing?"
  Adam looked up, his stare vacant, a quiet fire of inspiration in the blue eyes. She came up closer. Adam beamed.
  "Look here."
  "What is it-a stick, a tube? What for?"
  "Ah, listen!"
  He lifted the strange object to his lips.
  A stream started running over the stones, rolling them and purling. Then the rustling leaves stepped in. Now angels began to sing. Now the wind echoed them, mourning...
  While listening, Eve looked at his fingers twinkling over the miraculous tube and did not trust her eyes.
  "How beautiful! Did you catch the wind with this tube? Or did you put a bird in there? Or maybe it"s a little angel sitting inside."
  "This is flute, Eve. This is music."
  "Flu-u-ute... Mu-sic... I love you, Adam!"
  "I love you, Eve!"
  
  ***
  
  In the morning they as always went down to the river bank. The sun was just starting to rise. It was so funny to play here: you just take a few steps into the fog and get lost. It is even a little frightful. You see nothing except the huge pink cloud which covers the river at nights and melts under the hot rays of the sun. Here it is, lessening and getting more and more transparent, while the sun becomes hotter and hotter. And the river is streaming so fast that it makes you dizzy.
  "Let"s go, Eve!"
  Adam led her down to the water. Hand in hand, they entered the river. The cold water refreshed her, erasing from her memory the night"s rustle, the shades and the confused thoughts. They swam, dove and splashed for a while. Then Adam found a thick branch on the bank and got it in the water. The branch did not sink. He tried to sit on it. The branch escaped his arms and floated downstream. Annoyed, Adam swam after it. Eve watched him for a while and swam in an opposite direction-against the stream. It was difficult. The water was pushing her back, hindering, as if forbidding her to swim. It vaguely reminded her of something. Ah, yes, it"s the Tree in the middle of the Paradise. The Forbidden Tree and its mysterious power... It put her in a bad mood. She climbed out of the water and called Adam. Adam turned back; he was walking slowly, stopping now and then and tossing his head bowed on one side. He was angry at the water left in his ears and at the disobedient branch.
  "You see, I wanted it to carry me; I..."
  "I"ve seen it," Eve waved it off. "You have to think of some other way, but not now. Let"s eat first. And later..."
  "What?"
  "You"ll think of something."
  "And you?"
  "I, well, I"ll go..."
  "Where?"
  Eve did not answer.
  Adam frowned. He did not like her falling silent this way, when she had that incomprehensible, strange look. It vaguely reminded him of something. Ah, yes, it"s the Tree in the middle of the Paradise. The Forbidden Tree...
  "You"ll go to the Tree, won"t you?"
  She kept silent.
  "I"ll go with you."
  Eve shrugged her shoulders.
  
  ***
  
  She quickly picked up some fruit: juicy sweet figs, cool yellowish bananas, bright and round like little suns oranges. The large pomegranate with its shining sour seeds she put separately; it was strangely pleasant for a change. She threw an armful of grass on the ground to make it softer and laid jasmine twigs among the fruits. That"s all. The food was ready.
  Adam watched her, his face radiant with tenderness. He had already forgotten both the unsuccessful experiment with the branch and the disagreement with Eve.
  The fragrance of jasmine, how captivating it is...
  Ah, who is playing the flute? Whom heart is crying with inescapable grief? Adam is asleep. The flute is left among the raspberry bushes, forgotten... The birds, the wind, all are asleep. The stars above her head, beautiful like the eyes of angels, they are inaccessibly far away... Surely, it"s they who sing this song of grief. Well, anyway, she is happy with Adam. Calmed down, she fell asleep.
  
   ***
  
  For three long days Adam had not been paying much attention to her. He spent most of time on the riverside, occupied with the branch. He forgot about music as well, though Eve had found the flute among the bushes and carried it around everywhere. She even tried to play, but failed. In the daytime she hung around the bank, now and then casting a glance at Adam, waiting for him to call her. At nights she listened to the song of stars, and her heart was breaking with anguish. Only mornings brought her joy. But mornings are so short!
  On the fourth day she went to the Tree. She was moving slowly, carefully, but without fear. There it is, with its fruits glowing among the green leafage. And the invisible barrier is present, as always. But she can overcome it: the only thing to do is to go forward paying no attention to the mysterious force that hampers her advance as well as to the growing pain in her chest. But having approached the Tree, she stopped. Something was wrong. Something had changed. She tilted her head back and peered into the thick crown. Up there, the leaves were slightly trembling: the Serpent was slipping down the trunk. It was not the first time that Eve had seen the Serpent, but only now she noticed that his skin gleamed with dull gold matching the color of the forbidden fruits, and his little green eyes were shining restlessly but in the same time enchantingly. "He himself is like this Tree," thought Eve. Meanwhile, the Serpent welcomed her and, having reached the level of her face, looked straight in her eyes.
  "Did God say, "You shall not eat from any tree in the garden"?"
  Eve was surprised.
  "We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden; but God said, "You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.""
  "You will not die; for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil."
  The Serpent twined the tip of his tail around the ripe golden fruit, plucked it and offered it to her.
  "You will be like God, knowing good and evil," repeated Eve. "Does this fruit give knowledge? If I just eat it, I"ll get to know everything-all the answers for all the questions that torment me at nights? And Adam, will he learn how to cope with the river and many other things?"
  "Oh, yes," nodded the Serpent, "this and many other things-everything."
  "Really, everything?"
  She looked around. The flowers were nodding affably. The birds were twittering flying from place to place. High above her head the sun was shining. And the pure azure of the sky was caressing her soul. The world around her was beautiful. And somewhere near the river Adam was working at his branch. Just as Eve thought of him, she heard his footsteps. Adam came up and stood beside her without a word. He looked confused. For some reason, she glanced at his hands. They were empty.
  "Have you succeeded in your work?" she asked hopefully.
  "No," he sadly admitted. "I felt hungry and went after you."
  "And I"m here..." Eve waved her hand to the Tree.
  The Serpent nodded willingly and started wriggling while balancing the ball-like fruit on the tip of his tail; then he again lowered it.
  All of a sudden, everything became clear to her. Eve burst into laughter.
  "How can you say that all the world-the sky, the sun, the moon, the stars, our garden to the last blade of grass-everything is in this ball? Do you mean that this tiny ball can hold the whole world created by God?"
  "Exactly so; God has concealed the knowledge of good and evil which is the complete knowledge about the world in this fruit. You don"t understand it, but taste the fruit, and you"ll comprehend everything."
  "May be so; perhaps the precious knowledge is really as accessible as you say, but... no."
  "Why?" asked the Serpent, bewildered.
  "Because God loves us. He appointed us to rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground."
  "You"re stupid, woman! You don"t understand what you"re talking about. It has nothing to do with this."
  "No, you"re the one who doesn"t understand. We have something better than any knowledge."
  "What can be better than knowledge? I say, it will make you equal with the Lord God Himself!"
   "May be so; I don"t know. But what I know for sure-because I feel it in my heart- is that we will loss the love of God if we violate His prohibition. I don"t know what death is, though I"m afraid of it, but I know very well what love is. And if I acquire all the knowledge of the world thus losing His love, let me die on that very day, as God said."
  "But you won"t die! The matter is that you won"t die of it," the Serpent exclaimed in despair."
  Eve gave him a contemptuous look, took Adam by the hand and pulled him away.
  Adam was still silent.
  "Well, aren"t you going to say anything? Why have you been remaining silent and waiting for me to talk?"
  "It"s offence and anger."
  "Stop talking in riddles."
  "I was in anger at the offence, and it sapped my strength."
  "And why did you get angry?"
   "I"ve tried every way to realize my idea, but in vain; I can"t do anything."
  "But the flute, you"ve invented the flute; here, play."
  Adam glanced at her with gratitude, and her heart panged with compassion. She closed her eyes. What does it remind of?-neither of birdsong nor of angels singing. Birds are carefree, and angels are always joyful. Ah, it"s the song of stars-the song of grief on high.
  Adam abruptly ceased playing. He sat down next to her, but was far away, alone in his despair.
  What"s to do? Eve clapped her hands.
  "Hey, Adam, how smartly we"ve managed to defeat the Serpent! How silly he looked, indeed, when he opened his mouth and started wagging his tail, as if he was going to swallow it down."
   Eve stuck her tongue out and began to wag her curved finger, mimicking the Serpent. Adam burst into laughter.
   "And when you said that God loved us, he got furious! And you"re right: the best thing we have is love. Wait. I"ve got it! Now I know what to do..."
   "What?"
   Without answering, he ran towards the river. Eve followed him.
   Having reached the edge of the bank, Adam stared at the stream for a moment; then he walked on the water.
   Rooted to the spot with the mixture of delight and horror, Eve gazed after him. Adam reached the other bank of the river, turned and waved to her. He stood calmly, with his arms spread wide, to show her how easy it was. Eve dared not follow him. Adam laughed and moved towards her. No, no! Eve laughed in her turn and glided over the waves to meet him. An unexpected and unknown feeling of lightness overfilled her, as if she was miraculously released from some burden which had been bending her down the earth and of which she had never had any suspicion.
   Ah, what a happiness!
   In the middle of the river washing their Paradise, Adam and Eve met and embraced.
   Blessed are You, our Lord God, Creator of the universe. Glory to You forever and ever!
  
  ***
  
  "How did you come up with that idea?"
  "I don"t know. I just thought, "Why do I need a branch? If I want to move on the water, I can simply walk." It"s so easy! I simply realized that this was the best way. Oh no, this is the only true way," he corrected himself. "And how have you made up your mind to do it?"
  "I just thought, "If you managed to do it, I will manage as well" Why, I"m the flesh of your flesh, am I not?" she added coquettishly, paused a little and continued, "Weren"t we told, "And the two will become one...one..."" she hesitated.
  "One what?" Adam smirked.
  "One tree!" Eve blurted out and immediately regretted it.
  Adam made a long face.
  "You aren"t going there any more, are you?"
  She shook her head.
  "Never. Not for anything. I"d better..."
  "What?"
  "Let"s go to the other bank and see what"s there."
  "Let"s leave it for tomorrow. I am tired and hungry. And night"s falling."
  So their last day on their native bank passed.
   The night fell on their garden like a gigantic bird whose feathers shone like black agates, whose eyes could see well in the dark because they were ruled by heart, and whose songs were ever ravishing.
  Like nestlings, Adam and Eve got under her worm wings.
  The other bank, yesterday inaccessible and therefore mysterious, turned out a complete copy of their native one. They walked for a long time along the river; then they went inland, but did not see anything strange or unknown. The Paradise was absolutely symmetrical, like their faces. Perhaps the Paradise is the face of the earth. But what is beyond its borders?
  "Why would we go beyond the borders of the Paradise? Don"t we live comfortably here? And there are plenty of wonderful things here... We even have not tasted all the fruits." Eve frowned in the search of yet more convincing words. "And the Lord our God did not say that we are allowed to go beyond the Paradise."
  "But He did not forbid it."
  "But what if..."
  "What?"
  "I don"t know. But what if..."
  "Don"t be afraid of anything, sweetheart. I"ll be with you, won"t I?"
  "Promise that you won"t go anywhere without me."
  "I promise."
  "Never!"
  "Never."
  Something rustled among the bushes; then a derisive giggle came from there. The next instant someone hushed them-whoever they were-angrily, and all became still and silent. Adam and Eve grew quiet, not daring to move, but soon they felt hunger and set to prepare supper.
  "The figs and bananas here are even testier than on the other side."
  "You"re just too hungry."
  "I"m not anymore."
  Adam yawned and stretched out on the fragrant grass warmed by the sun, which he and Eve had picked together.
  "And the grass is softer here," he smiled playfully, "come on up to make it sure."
  
  ***
  
  "And the two will become one flesh," the exile repeated thoughtfully. "That"s what they said, didn"t they?"
  "Exactly so, my lord," the Serpent obsequiously bent.
  He felt ashamed of his failure and wanted to justify himself, but despite all his cunning could not think of anything that would suit his master.
  Until the early hours of the morning the dark forces of evil had been holding council on how to tempt people and ruin them forever, thus ruining the God"s plan.
  When the dawn was barely waking up shaking rose petals off her hair and dropping pearls on the grass, the Serpent soundlessly crept up to the sleeping couple. He kept repeating to himself the instructions of his master in order to precisely fulfill them and this time not to disgrace himself. He was supposed to waken Adam alone and to tempt the half-asleep man to leave the Paradise while Eve was still asleep, and when she woke up, to send her to look for him, but in the opposite direction.
  
  ***
  
  Breathing heavily, with pounding heart, Eve had been running until she couldn"t move anymore. Her sweetheart was nowhere to be seen. "I went after him, but I did not come hear him; I said his name, but he gave me no answer," she whispered sorrowfully, looked around and froze in astonishment. Somebody was sitting under the cypress, leaning against the trunk and looking at her sadly and severely. The stranger had beautiful face, eyes sparkling like stars and shoulder-length fair curls reminding of the patches of sunlight. And he himself was shining like the sun. And when he started to speak, it seemed as if an angel was speaking to her.
  "Why are you crying, woman?"
  "My loved one is gone. He left me while I was asleep. His words, his promises have faded away, and now I am alone; my native bank is far from here, and I don"t know where to go."
  "I know all that," the stranger snapped, "and it is not worth tears."
  "But I love him."
  "What is love?"
  Eve kept silent looking at him with amazement. Adam"s treachery shuttered her faith in what yesterday seemed pure and indisputable truth.
  "Well, you don"t even know what love is, so why to cry? Is not it stupid?"
  This offended Eve, but she could not find the right words.
  "I can tell you what love is. I will show you all its gifts; and you will see how ephemeral and therefore senseless they are, since they pass quickly leaving only the echo of promises. You will see also that it requires sacrifices, innumerable and senseless as well, because you will find only ingratitude in return for them. I can show you much more. I have power over everything on the earth; all the elements obey me, and all the mysteries are open to me. And I will show you everything and give you whatever you want."
  "Do you know everything?"
  "Yes."
  "And you are going to show me everything, aren"t you?"
  "Yes."
  "And you are going to give me whatever I want, aren"t you?"
  "Yes. But you must say that you want it."
  "I only must say that I want..."
  "And you must follow me."
  "And follow you..."
  "And you must call me "my Lord".""
  The eyes, bright like stars, were gazing at her fixedly. Enchanted with their glitter, Eve made a step towards the stranger, then one more step, and more, more... It seemed, she was about to fall into those eyes. There, in the depth, an abyss was yawning, and a black mist was curling in there, eager to break away.
  Eve shrank back.
  The stranger frowned.
  "What"s the matter?"
  "First, answer..." she hesitated.
  Lucifer was sitting silently, arms across, regal head leaned back.
  "If you have all the knowledge and can do what you"ve said, why are you unhappy?"
  "What?!" Lucifer jumped up-wrathful giant-tall and slender like cypress under which he settled down.
  "Why are you unhappy? You are lonely and unhappy. You know what love is, but you yourself don"t have it."
  She wanted to continue, but did not have time.
  A roar of a wounded beast shook the stranger. The shine grew dark. The giant crashed to the ground and fell to small pieces which turned into slugs, worms, spiders and crawled away.
  Lucifer was gone.
  Stunned, Eve stood for a long time as if petrified. She tried to walk, but the feet did not obey her. She yelled in terror, but did not hear her cry.
  "Adam, Adam, where are you?" screamed her soul. And suddenly she heard, "I"m coming."
  But it was not the voice of Adam. It was not a voice at all. It popped into her head as though she herself had thought it, but she had not.
  "This is me who thinks; I"m answering you this way."
  "What way?"
  "Mentally, Eve. You hear my thoughts, and I hear yours."
  "But why couldn"t we talk like this before?"
  "We could, but we didn"t know that we could. This is like walking on the water."
  "But now I can"t walk at all; I can"t even move a finger."
  "That"s all right. That"s because of fear. It will be over very soon. I know what to do."
  The last words were uttered by his real voice, and as soon as she saw him, life returned to her.
  So much had they undergone that they did not wish even to think about mysteries and discoveries anymore. One should be satisfied with what one possessed. Let us be meek and humble. Let us be thankful to God Almighty for everything He had given us. Thus spoke Adam and Eve. And they thought what they spoke and they spoke what they thought, since now they heard the thoughts of each other even when they parted. And everything that was hidden became revealed. However, now they parted seldom and for a short while. And they talked very little. Not because they already could manage without words but because they feared to attract attention of another monster by incautious remark. To think seemed more secure. And when fearful memories were somehow brought back, they soothed each other with caresses and kisses. Their life came down to everyday concerns. Adam cultivated the garden; Eve helped him. When they felt hunger, they prepared some simple food together. Then Eve wove wreaths while Adam lay in grass looking up at the sky and only frowned when some bird crossed the pure azure. He did not play flute anymore. The flute lay in the hollow of cedar, covered with leaves. Sometimes, in the twilight, he took it, examined and carefully laid back. The leaves were always fresh, which means that Eve also came here. It lasted long, and they began to get used to that routine when every day was the same and when night passed like an instant in the worm dark without dreams or conversations with stars.
  
  ***
  
   Other inhabitants of the Paradise did not care a straw. They ran, flew, swam feeling the rapture of being alive. It was pleasant to watch their bustling carelessness. Eve became so interested in it that began to tell many birds and beasts. She gave them endearing nicknames and played with them. When any of them got hurt, she cleaned the wound with spring water, wrapped it with a special leaf and handfed the sick animal until it recovered. She did all this willingly and was getting more and more attached to her world. Tranquility, quiet tenderness, peaceful sleep-such was the life of the spouses now. Eve did not remember the Tree anymore. Once she passed very close to the sinister place, but did not even notice it. Only having caught out of the corner of her eye the restless shimmer emitted by the twigs fluttering on wind, she remembered its fruits formerly so attractive. But why does she need knowledge? It brings nothing but trouble. Knowledge is the greatest of temptation. The shining stars attract you, luring into the dark and cold precipice; then the colossus falls revealing void and abomination. The vision of the loathsome creatures crawling away appeared in front of her again. Terrified, Eve rushed back throwing caution to the wind. And the monotony of their life recommenced.
  
  ***
  
  Adam was digging around trees, and Eve went to see the wounded kid that broke his leg hopping from rock to rock the day before. She left him sleeping near the rock from under which the spring came out, and now she was hurrying up having heard his mournful bleating. But what"s that? It"s not bleating at all; it sounds like human groans. And indeed, someone is lying there, in place of the injured kid, some stranger with awful wounds, groaning in anguish.
  "Who are you and what"s the matter with you?"
  "Don"t you see that I"m suffering terribly? Help me like you help any dumb animal."
  "Do you want me to clean your wounds and to wrap them with special leaves? Well, I will do it, because you are suffering terribly."
  "No, woman, I"m thirsting for another help," the poor wretch fell silent and went into convulsions. When the pain abated, he crouched and began to whine.
  "Why don"t you tell me what help you need? What am I supposed to do?"
  "You"ll have to make a great sacrifice, to give up something precious."
  "Give what?"
  "Give me the fruits of the Forbidden Tree for I could eat them and recover. It would be a good deed; you would be rewarded for that."
  "How should I know that it"s good? I know neither good nor evil."
  "Bring me those fruits, and you will know everything."
  "Don"t you know that God said, "You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die."?"
  "Yes, I do. And that"s why I"m asking for sacrifice. Will you really leave me helpless?"
  The poor wretch again started convulsing and groaning. But while writhing, he never took his sharp eyes off her. That piercing cold stare did not even remotely resemble to the entreaty that she saw in the eyes of her patients. Eve shrugged her shoulders.
  "But why do you ask me for help?"
  "Don"t you see that I can"t reach the Tree myself?"
  "Ask God."
  The stranger started convulsing even more intensively and stretched out his trembling arms to her. But Eve was inexorable.
  "Ask God, and He will help you. Also, in this case I will not violate the prohibition. For I think that God desires mercy, not sacrifice."
  She turned her back to the sufferer and walked off. Having found Adam, she told him all about the stranger, but when she mentioned her last argument, repeating "God desires mercy, not sacrifice", Adam became thoughtful.
  "You behaved well. However, how do you know what God desires?"
  Eve did not answer.
  And Adam continued.
  "We know only the limits of what we are allowed to do, and we observe them. Never have we violated His will, but... I feel that... our life lacks truth. We live in fear, and it is not the fear of Lord. We"re afraid of what we"ve experienced and of what lies ahead. We"ve forgotten our dream. We no longer want to know what is there, beyond the Paradise. We no longer need music. We"ve ceased to go to the river and content ourselves with the spring. We"ve lost joy. We"re afraid to live."
  "What should we do? Do you know what to do?"
  "Right now, we need some sleep. Let"s leave it till the morning."
  
  ***
  
  Morning in the Paradise is more beautiful than any human dream. No one can guess when it comes. Whether it begins with the first warble of birds or with the languorous smile of the dawn, or with the last rays of stars, or with the fresh wind that banishes sleep. But when you open your eyes, you understand: the morning has come.
  And the decision comes in the same way.
  Having woken up, Adam and Eve already knew it.
  Hand in hand, they went to the river, bathed with quiet solemnity, climbed out on the bank, raised their eyes to heavens and prayed to God.
  "Lord, set us free from fear," whispered Eve.
  "Teach us how to go on living, make us see the truth, since we are ignorant, and our days lack joy," echoed Adam.
  Hearing and continuing the thoughts of each other, they weaved them into the song flying to the sky. And blissful warmth began to flow upon them from up there; the caressing stream embraced them from heads to toes, rocking them slightly and filling them with joyful peace.
  And when Adam and Eve came to their senses, they saw Him.
  He started talking, and His speech flowed like pure verbal milk.
  "The Lord is good, and He sent Me to rescue you, His beloved children, who have never violated His will, nor contradicted Him, nor reproached Him for anything. You have overcome the temptations. However, you became weak battling against the forces of darkness, therefore the light in you began to wane, thus allowing despondency to fill your hearts. You have become the slaves of fear, and scared people are easy target for Satan. But since you have got over yourselves, you have surmounted your weakness and despondency weighing you down, and since you have asked God for mercy, you will receive what you asked for. And you will be given more than that. You will cognize truth, and it will make you free.
   I am the way and the truth and the life. Through Me you will come to the Father. But you have a long way to go. You must leave the garden where you have undergone your first trials. And you will have to learn to live beyond the Paradise. You will face problems that you have not experienced before. And you will encounter new temptations. But you are able to overcome them. And you will give birth to children and populate the earth. And be aware that Father your Heavenly in His great mercy has given you a shield for all time. When He created you, a man and a woman, He wrote the Code of Life in your hearts. And the key to that code is a prayer. And this is how you should pray: "Our Father in heaven...""
   Jesus Christ spoke at length teaching and encouraging them to fulfill the God"s plan. Then, He led them out of the Paradise and stationed an angel with flaming sword to guard the entrance so that no one would be seduced by the dream of the carefree life in the garden. And He gave them leather clothing for protection from the cold and full water-skins for the road. But when the Rescuer was going to leave, Adam took heart and said, "Lord, it"s good to be with You, but now You are leaving, while we remain in the unfamiliar land among unknown dangers. How should we distinguish good from evil?"And Jesus smiled and answered, "You of little faith, why are you afraid? Haven"t you understood that the knowledge of good and evil is (and has always been) in your hearts? And you knew what good is when you listened to your hearts. That"s how you learned to heal wounds, to hear thoughts, to walk on the water. And you will learn yet many things. Also, you knew what evil is when you did not believe the tempter. And you will be rewarded for that. I came to you to proclaim truth. And I will come again- to you, to your children and to the children of your children. And you will populate all the earth and will become masters of the earth. And the earth will last forever. Amen."
  
  
  
  TATYANA MARTIROSYAN
  (SELF-TRANSLATION)
  
  THE ESCAPE FROM THE ABSOLUTE
  
  "Father," I used to repeat melting blissfully in his tender power, "Father..." Warmth, light, peace... How nice, how sweet... happiness! I felt his unchangeable, inexhaustible love. I felt protected. Whom from? What from? I did not understand. I just had a vague feeling of coldness, darkness, and indifference of the outside world. I reacted painfully to all changes in any, even the remotest, radiation. The mere presence of someone, even without any interference in my life, or an occasional echo or a sudden streak of light-everything contained some hint at hostility. Something was lurking, waiting... What for? Vague anxiety confused and disturbed me, and I asked questions.
  "Who am I? Why am I alone? Why are the others completely different? Why do I feel good only when you are with me, while all the others seem to be set against me and waiting? What are they waiting for?"
  "Why is the whole not equal to the sum of its parts? What is it that always vanishes in analysis? Why is it that the more I think about a subject, the more complicated it seems?"
  "Why does the beauty of an object disappear when it comes close? Why does ugliness provoke hatred? Why can"t I influence anything, while everything in the world is interconnected? I mean nothing in this world!"
  He did not always reply. Sometimes he gave me to understand that I could find the solution myself; other times he just kept silent. And somehow I sensed his displeasure in this silence. I felt lost. The sense of guilt overwhelmed me. Gradually, it was changed by offence, then by irritation, and finally by protest. I got tired of perfecting my thoughts and verifying my feelings in the attempts to fit to the harmony he lived in. My anxious voice disturbed the accord of enthusiastic chants rising towards him. I suffered, I was vexed and sullen. I longed for escape. "Only then will I gain the right to action," I thought.
  I grew to love dreaming. I imagined changeable shapes of a wonderful world where my boldest ideas would come true. I enjoyed their variability that allowed me to freely rethink everything. It was rebellion against his requirements of perfection... I am not completely truthful, though. He never required anything. It was his very existence that stressed me. And I rebelled exactly against it, that is, against his presence everywhere and in everything. Especially in me! He was present not only when I needed him but always and everywhere. Finally, it made me so indignant that I concealed my most wonderful discovery-motion-from his scrutiny. And I cherished my treasure, while realizing all the futility of my aspiration to independence. Yes, I did realize the impossibility of hiding something from him, yet I concealed my idea of motion, my dearest dream that I desired to fulfill with every fiber of my being. At the same time, I sensed his growing displeasure, though he never clearly expressed it. Oh, no! Again I am not honest. Actually, what I took as his displeasure was the reflection of my fear. I was afraid of what I desired. But that hidden shameful fear only increased my thirst. I tried to imagine what it would be like to exercise my own free will. Not to endlessly address him, not to verify with him the purity of my thoughts, the depth of my search, the irreproachability of my conclusions. Freedom...
  And it finally happened. Though, I didn"t notice how and when. I just did not sense his presence anymore. The permanent pressure disappeared. At first, I was in doubt; I thought maybe the pressure had been only eased, and if I spoke to him, he would answer. He did not. He ignored all my appeals. And I understood that his absence in me signified his absence for me. He let me go. I was free. I could fulfill all my dreams. I could do anything. And for the first time I fully realized: I am. This is me. I am me.
  
  
   How to express the bottomless despair, the limitless loneliness that overwhelmed me! I was seized with horror. And it was only stubbornness that kept me from cursing myself. I concentrated my will and directed it to the very core of my being-the centre of spirit, the source of thoughts, the origin of cravings. And I told myself, "It is done! The peaceful cocoon is ruptured. Away from that hateful cobweb of staticity! I will perform motion. I will realize it thus realizing myself in it. Motion will become my beginning. As to the end, I don"t want to think about it. Henceforth everything will depend on me."
   I made an intense effort and rushed out with all my might. I felt as if I had turned myself inside out and thrown myself out of myself. Shivering with excitement, I observed the surrounding world. It hadn"t changed. I understood it by locations of stars. So I failed. I did not manage to make motion. I could not. I remained a slave of immobility, prisoner of stillness, helpless dreamer. A furious desperation burned me through. I went on a rampage. I fancied now someone"s spiteful mockery, now condescending applause, now sympathetic rustle of wings, and now wild laughter.
   Perhaps I did all those things myself.
   I came to my senses exhausted, but somehow refreshed. And I instantly realized my mistake. The Absolute is static. Omnipresence does not need motion. Moreover, motion is violation of the Absolute, disturbance of harmony, revolt against peace. Consequently it must be opposed to the Absolute in its very essence: it must be relative. Having not set a certain point of destination, I rushed out in all directions. No wonder I was almost torn apart. The amazing thing was that I survived. So I should set some terminal point or at least a direction. However, the latter was risky. The image of straight line falling endlessly into emptiness flashed through my mind leaving a sad shadow. To begin with, I"d better aim at something simple and concrete, for example, at the nearest star.
   A moment later I was bathing in the life-giving plasma streams. The star itself seemed to have been reborn. It blazed up and started burning with tenfold force. The particles of its material were colliding with violent energy, engendering myriads of powerful explosions. It was a wild, chaotic, but at the same time fascinating show. Having forgotten everything, I joined that crazy dance of plasma. I felt as if I were completely merged with it. I whirled in the fire vortex with a jubilant delight. It was sheer ecstasy. I had never been so happy! I fancied staying there, at the summit of pleasure, merged with the star in an indissoluble embrace... My consciousness was about to fade away. At the same time the star started thickening its core thus pulling me inside. There was something extremely touching and yet terrifyingly predatory in her impulse to keep me. However, was it worth escaping from the Absolute just to get caught in the snare of the nearest firefly?
  Easily and without any regrets I freed myself from the marvelous captivity and continued travelling. Motion submitted to me. I felt so comfortable as if I had always been free. I was flying among the stars, reveling in aimlessness and spontaneity of my occupations, but most importantly in lack of control. I created new stars from the material scattered throughout the universe and destroyed the old ones that I did not like for some reason. I transformed the stardust into directed flows while imposing certain rhythms on them. I started composing messages addressed to an unknown, non-existing friend-the coded letters that nobody would ever answer... Once, having caught one of those flows, I got excited as if it were really a message from a brother.
   It was then that I realized that I was missing communication. I needed a living soul, someone different, independent of me, whose actions would be unexpected and whose thoughts would be surprising. However, I did not want to return to the once abandoned nest in order to seduce some of my former brothers. The very thought seemed dishonorable and repulsive; I rejected it at once. But what should I do then? Should I wait until some other rebel repeats my experiment and we meet somewhere by chance? This alternative also did not suit me as I hated the uncertainty of waiting as well as the passivity of my supposed role.
  Thinking over it, I scrutinized my newly created chef-d'oeuvre-an exquisitely shaped constellation with a double star in the centre. I admired the regal pair. One of the stars was larger and brighter than the other. And the smaller one looked like its diminished copy. Suddenly, an idea flashed through my mind, "What if I create a copy of myself diminished in all parameters?" Of course, it would not be me but merely a replica. I would easily overcome him if something happened. And I would have limitless possibilities for improving my creature. I would endow him with intellect, the greatest part of which I would place in the field of potential so that it would be put into use gradually, in accordance with my project. But most importantly, I would give him free will. Freedom would make him my friend. He would be grateful to me. Well, surely! He would be grateful to me for life itself as well as for freedom. He would love me. I would not be lonely anymore. I would help him in everything. And I would present him to Father as my happy child. I myself would be happy. Father would understand how unjust, cruel, and... Stop! I should not think of him. I don"t want to think of him. I don"t care of his opinion. I don"t need his approval.
  "I am me. I am. There is nobody except me. I am me," I stubbornly reminded myself.
  I will create my own world. I will fill it with my spirit. It will be an irreproachable world. Everything will be interconnected, reasonable, and harmonic in there. I will weave everything-from giant galaxies to the smallest particles of matter-in one whole system. I will subjugate the motion in the space-time continuum to the natural laws. I will interlace everything in the universe with the net of deliberate correlations. The slightest motion in the farthest corner of the world will be passed throughout the whole universe. So that, glancing at one single knot of the net, I will see what is going on anywhere. There will be neither mysteries nor riddles nor secrets from me. I will be omnipresent and invulnerable.
  I fell asleep lulled by dreams. I had a grandiose project to be implemented. And above those beautiful, magnificent pictures I saw the shining smile of an innocent, pure creature-my beloved son.
  
  
  "I don"t believe you," he said standing in front of me with an air of defiant nonchalance.
  "Look round," I replied still cherishing a hope.
  "What for?" he frowned.
  "I"ve created all this."
  "Nonsense, all this has been always as long as I can remember."
  "That"s right, but your memory, more exactly, your life has limits: commencement and end. And you"re changing all along-with every breath you take. I"ve created time for your convenience: it will help you to mark those changes and orient yourself within the limits ordained for you."
  "But who"s predestined them?"
  "Me."
  "And how did you determine how much time I need?"
  "I proceeded from the goals and tasks set for you."
  "Do you mean I must solve problems?"
  "Well, yes, but..."
  "But first tell me who, what for, and why loaded me with that?"
  "Me. You owe me your life. I"ve given you life."
  "But I didn"t ask you."
  "Well, surely... but... but you could not, you had not yet existed!"
  "So, why should I be thankful for what I did not ask?
  "Because the life I"ve given you is beautiful."
  "Hah! That"s what your winged toadies are invariably singing. You"d better settle for them. Why do you need me?"
  "Those... toadies, they are my first unsuccessful experiments. They are not able to develop on their own. But you, you are sheer embodiment of my cherished idea: I managed to provide you with the ability to make a choice. You are able to freely choose your own way. You must rise above the frailty of being, overcome your weakness, and attain perfection."
  "Nice logic indeed! Again I"m told that I must do something without explaining me why."
  "If you want to understand my project, you should mature spiritually. You will have to make a lot of sacrifices."
  "So, I"ll have to mature for a long time and make sacrifices only in order to understand your project. Shell I live a whole life with a purpose to understand what I was born for? And even that is not guaranteed!"
  "I have shown you the way. Follow it, and this will be your guarantee."
  "And what if I refuse?"
  "You will be wandering in the dark and you will never attain the eternal bliss."
  "It does not look like that bliss was good for you."
  "How can you judge?"
  "Why did you create me? Mind you, I don"t accept your version of events; I"m just going to consider it as an assumption. So, what did you create me for? Was it because you were lonely and needed a friend? But one does not require a friend to pay for a favor, to say nothing of a gift! Now, if your goal was to create an acquiescent tool, why did you provide me with intellect and will? Or did you want me to voluntarily relinquish freedom of thought and action? Did you really think that I would prefer your tutelage? None of these alternatives seems to be worthy of the supreme mind you claim. And finally, why have you created me so weak, vulnerable, and burdened with lots of needs that I have to satisfy overcoming various difficulties?"
  "One enjoys something only when one gets it by overcoming various difficulties. I know it from my personal experience."
  "But why do you impose your personal experience on me?"
  "Because you are my creation. My power over you is unlimited. I can destroy you or make you suffer horribly."
  "So, you"re a tyrant. And you spoke of great projects! Greatness and kindness are incompatible with arbitrariness."
  "How dare you criticize my project? You, miserable creature, nonentity! I will grind you to dust! I will wipe you off the face of the Earth! I will bring down a mountain on you!"
  "Yes, you"re quite able to do all these things. But what does it prove? Well, yes, I"m scared. But I"m not going to yield to fear. You wanted me to be both free and predictable. Absurd! You"re deceiving yourself."
  "Look round. Look attentively. There are signs and symbols everywhere in the universe. I"ve set these hints for you. If you follow them, you"ll feel like a part of nature, happy and thankful."
  "And I will become identical to those pinky winged imbeciles. So, the same question remains: why should I go a long way that actually would bring me to the very same result you"d once obtained and considered wrong?"
  "I cherished and fostered you while you were weak and helpless. And I promise to be there for you if you follow the right path. But if you reject it, I will reject you. You will stay alone."
  Astonished, he stood still and speechless. I also kept silence, waiting and hoping. I knew that despite bitter disappointment and anger I would forgive him everything. I was ready to welcome him with open arms. However, minutes were passing, but he remained motionless and silent. Suddenly, there came a heavy sigh or a groan, I never understood what it was-had not time to. He turned and walked away without saying a word, without looking back. He betrayed me. He escaped from me. Again I heard a mournful sound, but this time I made out that it was the nature itself-my materialized soul-that groaned against my will. Having realized it, I gave up and surrendered myself to the demons of suffering. I started convulsing, and a thunderstorm broke out with arrows of lightning cleaving the sky and torrential flows pouring down; the Earth quaked, snake-like clefts furrowed its face; avalanches rushed down the mountains. I watched the destruction of a divine creation-the home I had built for my beloved son. I watched him being lashed with freezing rain, beaten by stones, deafened by thunder. I saw him struck by lightning. He fell, and total darkness covered everything.
  
  
  I came to my senses at first light and examined the planet. It had suffered tremendous devastation all over the surface and even at considerable depths. The ocean had divided into innumerable bodies of water. The dry land had been damaged even more: here the poor thing was swollen, there, on the contrary, a precipice yawned; in some places molten rocks were spewed out from the very entrails of the Earth. Countless anomalies had deformed the magnetic shell. And even the gravitational field-my pride-had not escaped deformation. But the sight of the planet in ruins, however painful, was nothing compared to the death of my child, my only hope, my crowning glory...
  Nearly charred, horrible, he was lying on the ground, the empty eye sockets looking at me as if with reproach. But he deserved to die! He... I... A faint reddish glow started creeping around me, not daring to get closer. His soul! It had shrunken to a faint cloudlet with just enough energy not to disperse over universe. The red gleam meant blood, violent death, angry complaint...
  So, I am again alone.
  But I was alone before. And will be. Whatever his guilt, my loneliness is not his fault. Though he has not valued my gift and decided to go his own way, I can"t destroy a living thing, a living soul. My hands still remember the itch with which they were sculpting him, moving as if independently, as if knowing what to do; it was strange but marvelous feeling. And how thrilling it was to see him open his eyes for the first time; they were golden-brown, like two little suns...
  I picked up his bleeding soul. I carefully cleaned and warmed it. When it began to shine with its initial pure golden light, I restored its receptacle according to the matrix that, thank goodness, remained safe in my memory. And now my son was again standing in front of me, exactly the same as before. Except that he kept looking around in complete perplexity. No wonder he was bewildered: he did not see me anymore. And he never will. Let him go his own path. I"ve done my best for him. I"ve given him all the signs and hints. If he wants, he will see them; if not, he will have only himself to blame. And I will not repair this broken toy-his world. Like heir, like heritage.
  
  
  I set off on a journey and plunged into experiments with fields. Living matter did not interest me anymore. I realized that experiments on living things were tormenting; they engendered ethical questions that had no answers. However, I already knew the main principle: nobody has the right to decide whether a living creature deserves to live or die-nobody, even his creator.
   I got into space metric. It was amusing to vary the number of dimensions of a system and then watch it changing. I created a system that could fold to an infinitesimal point and then unfold to a galaxy, not too small one, by the way. The amazing thing was that it could change even in the folded state, each time surprising me with novelties. A point conceals some secrets that I have yet to unravel. Something moves in the metric captivity, in that tiny prison. And whatever it is, it wants to break free. Is the centrifugal force really the initial cause of development of all things, living and non-living? Does it mean that everything which is centripetal, unifying, fastening, in short, poietic is imposed from outside, whereas matter itself aspires to freedom, even at the cost of self-destruction? These thoughts suddenly evoked a lot of unpleasant memories, and instantly I sensed a reflected wave from the Earth. Something had gone badly wrong over there. Something... Aha! Parasites, the outcasts banished from Father"s realm by different reasons, they fell on the abandoned world like vultures. Incapable of creation, they started rebuilding it and of course fought among themselves. Everyone held his ground, and as a result nothing was left of my harmonious well-thought-out project. Irreconcilable differences predominated in that deformed world. It seemed the newcomers fought tooth and nail. Yet the system was alive! Life brushed aside all the destructions caused...
  And my son, where"s he, what"s he doing? Absurd! Many millennia have passed on this planet since I abandoned it... Yet I was curious. I took a good look at the colorful picture. Hah! Naturally enough, they"d failed to create a living being of such a level. Then... they had been experimenting with animals for a long time, mainly with monkeys. The traces of their numerous unsuccessful attempts were seen here and there... Finally, these hacks had given up the idea of making a human being of low-quality raw material and decided to use the already existing base. They drugged him and made a spouse for him of his own flesh. Consequently the poor couple had to be content with halves of a soul, but, obviously, the plagiarists did not care about that. Then the life itself joined in. At the moment of conception of a new human being the souls of parents merged into a whole. The energy released in a fusion generated a new soul. As a matter of fact, here they"d nearly guessed my initial project. Naturally, the implementation was clumsy, yet they managed to populate the planet. And they certainly did their best. What a variety of forms! What a motley collection of tribes covering the Earth! People differed in color of skin, eyes, hair; in build, height, features of face; in length of arms and legs, and in whatnot. And all those differences increased the enmity yet more. But worse than that, those epigones made up for the lack of spirituality with animal instincts. However, even that was not the worst. The most horrible was that they had opted for technological progress. True, it was still embryonic, but the course of development was quite predictable.
  My head was spinning. What! How could they not have seen the obvious?! How could they have wasted the capabilities that promised almost omnipotence? They should have developed the spirit, should have worked on it. Instead they had preferred to use some worthless tools, pieces of iron! They could move through space instantaneously: there was nothing easier than transforming matter into energy and vice versa! Instead they made slow, unwieldy vehicles. They could communicate telepathically. Instead they used a great variety of cumbersome coding systems and could hardly understand each other. They could produce foodstuffs by the aid of matrix, using any elements. Instead they established some primitive absurd production the development of which was fraught with destruction of natural resources. But it was nothing compared to the real problem which was so complicated that it took me a while to get to the heart of the matter. Their life, at first glance full of natural passions and aspirations, in fact was not genuine but only secondary, that is, derivative. It just reflected the passions and aspirations, the victories and defeats of my successors, or rather, the usurpers. And this had gone too far: the illusive and the real had been intertwined so closely, that it was too late even for a scalpel. The only means left was total extermination... Or maybe I should let things go and forget the ill-fated experiment, this time forever... I hesitated... Strangely enough, the miasmas of rotten world were attracting me. And all of a sudden I opened myself up to it. At the same instant I almost lost my mind: a wave of negative energy hit me so hard that I remembered the moment when I tried to move through space for the first time. Only, if on that occasion I had been nearly torn apart, this time, on the contrary, I was almost squashed. Flows of pain, fear, despair, aggression, hatred-both directed and dispersed-attacked me from all sides. Verily an abyss of evil!
  Having adjusted the threshold of pain, I felt better; the planet"s noosphere now seemed a little lighter, so that I noticed some perfectly bright points and even small islands of light, very few, though. Calmed down, I realized that this world was a realm of slavery both physical and spiritual. The relationships among people were based on the principle of exchange. This principle ran through all their life, all the areas of activity. They traded even with their gods-made various vows in exchange for wellbeing. However, to be fair, in this case the initiative had been originally taken by the gods, that is to say, newcomers. It was they who had set the tone demanding roughly the following, "If you behave properly, you will be rewarded." Consequently, the notions of good and evil were reduced to an exchange, fair or unfair. The god of trade-in this or that form-was their lord, recognized or unconscious. Unselfishness was such a rare phenomenon that they considered it either a miracle or complete stupidity. Honesty was stipulated by fear of punishment. Violence was either a norm or a hidden dream. Analogously, it was either manifested openly or disguised by political speculations. And there was so much despair, despondency, helplessness...
  As if in answer to my last thought, I heard a sorrowful yell. I located the source of the sound. A beaten, ragged man with mortally wounded little girl in his arms, he was crying in anguish, "Rescue, rescue, rescue my child!" What"s the matter? Aha! It"s clear-an enemy raid. Mother was lying right there, on the ground, with a fatal wound on the side. The girl was still breathing, but her minutes were counted. The man kept crying. To whom was he appealing for help? Whom was he asking to rescue his daughter? What is he screaming out now-"Creator"? Me? Oh, no! I don"t care about your wars, your diseases, and other misfortunes. You"ve made your own choice, and now you"re calling me to account! What a dishonest game!
   I was overcome with disgust and indignation. Away from here! I should leave this vile place forever... Time passed, but I remained immobile. Something was stopping me. What was it-a hardly perceptible breath, a sigh of relief, a contented chuckle, a whisper of approval? What"s it? Who"s it? Maybe it"s those ill-fated newcomers. Oh, yes, it"s certainly them-lurking, waiting... but they betrayed themselves, the half-wits. You rejoiced too soon!
  I am. I am here. I am me.
  And never will I escape the responsibility. Cry, man, cry to be heard! Why, no... there"s no need in crying anymore. I will rescue your daughter. I will rescue you too. I will rescue all the people.
  I sent a wave of life-giving energy in his direction. The cone of light embraced father and daughter. Bleeding stopped; the wound was fully healed; the girl started smiling and moving her little head and arms. The astonished father fell on his knees and burst out sobbing. A crowd began to gather around them. Watching it, I experienced a strange feeling of shame. As if I also joined the overall system of falsehood. But it can"t be helped. One either accepts the rules of the game or stays above the battle. A third is not given. And I already knew what I would do.
  
  
   I once again thought the entire project through. Yes, the only way to save the lost flock is to lead them by example. Nothing can impress one"s conscience stronger than the example of one"s neighbor. And I myself will become that neighbor. If not me, then who will? I"ve made this mess, I must put things right.
   So I will choose a suitable young girl and superimpose my matrix on her future child. No, it won"t be a complete copy of my person but merely a part containing the knowledge necessary for fulfillment of the program. And let that knowledge reveal itself not at first. Yes. He will be born like an ordinary child. And he will live among people like one of them. And his great mission will be revealed to him gradually, as his own spirit strengthens. At the same time (and unlike his predecessor), he will successfully develop his capabilities. The first man and his descendants, those miserable blind fools, have neglected them, but my second and more perfect creation will go the true way. And he will show it to people. He will be my true son. In a sense he will be me, and not only because he will represent a version of me but also due to the telepathic connection that I will maintain with him. I will share with him all the trials, all the sufferings and joys that will fall to his lot. I have abandoned my first child, but this one I will not. I will go with him the entire way thus expiating my guilt. Exactly so, it was my guilt. As to the people, how can one judge them? What else was to be expected of them? To find the true path during several decades of navigating through the maze created by their self-styled gods is scarcely probable. So, people need help, and I"ll help them.
  My son, my alter ego... I already see him...
  
  
  I did not want it to happen! I didn"t want it! I did not want him to die! Because he was me! I suffered with him. I shared his pain, his horror, his doubts. I... Yes! I was dying with him! Father, Father, I did not want it! You"re silent... You"re always silent! Stop! I also kept silent when my son called me. Which one? I"m losing my mind... Yes, certainly, he called me, asked me to save him from the terrible fate. He thought that I had planned, predetermined that fate for him. That it was me who had doomed him to betrayal, trial, and death... The crowd yelling, "Crucify him!"... How could they... after all I had done for them! I? Had it been me? My thoughts got tangled again. In fact, I had been in safety. And I could have rescued him. What from, though? From fate? Everything in his life had been happening naturally and logically, in perfect accordance with the outer world. That"s where I"d really succeeded. His life had organically interwoven with the life of mankind. And that is why I could not interfere. I had no right. And I didn"t answer to his appeals by the very same reason. I did not want to influence his choice. I wanted him to decide everything himself. He could have refused to accept that fate. He had had a choice. He could have refused before the trial. And even in court he still had a chance to refuse. But had he really? And what would I have done if he had refused? And what should I do now? He is waiting. And so are they. Impostors! False gods! Should I give them battle? That would mean to accept their rules... Should I leave and forget? That would mean to escape leaving the humanity to the mercy of bloodthirsty demons... And he, what will happen to him?
  
  
  "Father!" he exclaimed and stopped short.
  "You?" my voice quavered, and I broke off as if echoing him.
  "Me," he replied with a faint smile.
  "Don"t you blame me anymore?"
  "How can I blame you?"
  "But then, in the garden, you asked me to take the bitter cup from you! And later, on the cross, you were calling me and asking why I had abandoned you..."
  "You see, it was a momentary feeling, more exactly, there were moments when I ceased to sense your presence and started to think that there was nothing but that perfidious world full with fear and malice. And that I was crazy. And that everything I had told people, everything I had taught them was nothing but my dream. But it did not last long. I only had to remember the miracles which I had worked with your help. I enjoyed a power that no one on the Earth had ever had. A power like that might be given only by you and only to a man chosen to fulfill a great mission."
  "I did not want those exploits. Nor did I want blood, death... sacrifice. I did not want to sacrifice you. It was them! The idea of sacrifice was not mine; it belonged to the false gods."
  "Oh, I encountered them everywhere. Having failed to lead me astray, they succeeded in calumniating me. People did not follow me. They renounced me. I did not fulfill my mission."
  "You showed them the true way."
  "What does it matter? If my presence among them was not sufficient, would the memory of me be effective?"
  "Do you need rest? Do you want liberty?"
  "One is free only if one doesn"t care about anything."
  "I can erase all that has happened from your memory."
  "You know, the strangest thing is that I did not want to abandon that world in spite of all its abomination. I was sorry that it was all over too quickly; I was sorry to part with earthly feelings."
  "So, you don"t want to forget what you"ve gone through."
  "I, as well as you, don"t know what has gone wrong, what was my mistake. There, on the Earth, I believed that all the events were following some certain plan, your plan. Now I know that I was mistaken. Life is endless improvisation."
  "And the logic of reasonableness exists only for those who believe in it."
  "As well as the logic of absurd exists for those who do not."
  "What about us?"
  "For us it"s more difficult."
  "Do you imply the responsibility?"
  "We create what others will believe in."
  "What about us?"
  "There, on the Earth, I believed in you. And that faith lightened my burden and simplified my task. I sensed our identity very vaguely and never could explain it neither to people nor to my own self. Now I know what it was. My self-consciousness has become clearer. I"ve also understood that you, too, do not know everything."
  "What else have you understood?"
  "That no one can be self-sufficient."
  "Even if one is omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient, limitless, etc."
  "You"re afraid of the word "absolute", aren"t you?"
  "Yes."
  "You think that if one creates somebody or something, it means that one needs in somebody or something different from one. Consequently, one is not self-sufficient, in other words, one is not absolute. However, if this is the case, then what about the image of Father-of your Father? I know that your rebellion, your accusations and grievances-it"s all nonsense."
  "No, it"s not."
  "Well, it"s not nonsense. But anyhow it"s insignificant in comparison with your boundless love for him."
  "I escaped from him."
  "And your son escaped from you."
  "And you?"
  "But I am he. And I am you. I am the point where father and son meet. Son always escapes from Father. And he returns back to him when he realizes his guilt and accepts his responsibility. Acceptance of responsibility means returning to Father."
  "Did you say "point"?"
  "I mean the point that contains a folded infinity."
  "So, by folding, you can become infinitesimal."
  "Yes, I can become a man, bird, beast, flower, stone, grain of sand, etc. I was all of them. I learned all of them."
  "But infinity... Wait, unfolding, you... Are you really able to become greater than your own self, greater than me, greater than...?"
  "You also can become greater than your own self. You"ve already done it-by having created me."
  "By having created you? But I created a diminished copy! Diminished! Not greater but smaller!"
  "You endowed me with limitless potential for development. And most important, you subconsciously put a sense of guilt in me. I am the embodiment of your guilt. And that"s what was leading me on the path and brought me to the cross."
  "You understood it at last! It was hard for me to think that you believed that I had consciously doomed you to torture."
  "I understood something more..."
  "Tell me."
  "Guilt is inevitable."
  "I agree. Every manifestation of life, every deed is coercion towards somebody or something."
  "The dilemma is: either life with an inevitable burden of guilt or inaction, emptiness, zero."
  "I wonder is there somewhere a mind that has given up all kinds of action? I mean the absolutely closed, irresponsive mind."
  "I can"t imagine."
  "Sure. Such aloofness would mean either endless egoism or ultimate despair; you"re not able to conceive any. As to me, I can understand and assume both. By the way, logically..."
  "Go on."
  "A black hole-it meets all the criteria. Let"s check it out."
  "Are you serious?!"
  "Come on, calm down..."
  "Well, why not? Go. But I will stay with people-to do my duty."
  "Ours."
  "Your task is not less dangerous than mine."
  "And there is no guarantee that we"ll manage to keep in touch. The hole surely will break any connection."
  "I wish you"d change your mind."
  "Hah! And you, what are you going to do?"
  "Well, I"ll think it over after I"ve seen you off."
  "You don"t want to tell, do you?"
  "..."
  "Will you repeat the experiment?"
  "Again and again."
  "Don"t forget about possible losses while the copying process. You may not recover completely."
  "If changes are inevitable, then what"s the difference why I will change?"
  "Promise me one thing."
  "What?"
  "No sacrifice anymore."
  "It won"t be easy. The idea has deeply ingrained in the souls of people. It is immensely seductive: it can justify even crime and cowardice."
  "Well, just try to do your best."
  "You also promise..."
  "Whatever you want."
  "Come back here some day!"
  
  
  
  TATYANA MARTIROSYAN
  (SELF-TRANSLATION)
  
  THE STRINGS OF GLASS BEADS
  
  THE WHITE RAIMENT (I)
   Abraham loved God with all his heart, all his soul, and all his might. And his love for God was so great that he was entirely happy. He perceived the world exactly in the way the Lord had created it; therefore he never got disturbed when encountering evil. He always did what he was supposed to do, so he succeeded in everything he did. He was a shield to his neighbors, he pacified enemies, he was honored in foreign lands as mighty prince, and he had sons.
   It was a curious story: Sarah"s barrenness, the promise of the Most High to send him a child, thereby making a great nation of him, a long wait interrupted only by yet more promises... How could one not get distressed? What"s the use of a long life and increasing wealth if there was nobody to pass it on and a stranger was managing the house? But Abraham believed the Creator. His eyes being always shining, his ears being always open to the euphonious song of havens, despondence avoided him. It settled in those faithless, filling their souls with cold despair and bending their bodies down to the ground, whereas Abraham walked with God, and the flame of love and gratefulness always burnt in his heart. And he never suffered for not apprehending His design. He felt the love of God and believed that the Lord saw him and knew everything. Abraham always followed His will, and when God was silent, he listened to his heart. So, he pitied Sarah when she, exhausted by the long wait, prayed him to go in unto Hagar, her handmaid, hoping that she might obtain children by her. Shortsighted and self-interested was that wish of Sarah, and yet he understood her grief and believed in her willingness to love his child from another woman. Besides, he so rejoiced at the thought of the future child that all his doubts disappeared. And did the happiness of having a son fade when those doubts had proved to be true? Oh no! Abraham"s soul was full of gratitude to the Creator for all His gifts.
   Oh Isaac! Laughter! His eyes are shining with joy of life; young friskiness makes laugh even a stone. Oh Isaac, son! Love overfilled Abraham"s heart; bright golden light flared in front of his eyes and therefore he did not at first catch the words of the Most High, "Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac... and get thee into the land of Moriah... and offer him there for a burnt offering..." Long he stood there unable to believe his ears. On the very threshold of horror he stood, his soul trembling, sorrowing, yet not daring to grieve. For Abraham loved God. And he remained motionless waiting for God knows what. But God was silent.
   And Abraham listened to his heart, as he always did. Soothing the shiver, overcoming the fear, suppressing the pain, he penetrated into the very bottom of his own soul. There was love in there. "I love God above all things. I know it... have always known... the Lord is my light, my joy, and my stronghold," he thought. "So, shouldn"t I give Him-whom I love above all things-my dearest treasure?" Yet he felt pain at this thought, and as the golden light grew dim, he realized where he was wrong: to give something to the Creator does not mean to lose it. The Lord loves both him and Isaac, and if He takes Isaac away, it would be so much better for Isaac to be near God than even at his father"s! And as he thought so, his heart as if burst, as if blazed up like the sun, and his spirit ascended to havens. It lasted only for an instant, and the feeling was incomparable-almost unbearably excellent and fearful. He as if was flying, rushing swiftly through misty whirls, and simultaneously watching all this as though from outside. Then he saw his own self standing on the top of a mountain; he was wearing white raiment shining as snow, and an angel of the Lord was talking to him tenderly and was blessing him.
   When Abraham came to himself, he was calm and serene despite the exaltation he had experienced. Abraham gave thanks to God and set out to fulfill His will.
  
  
  THE WHITE RAIMENT (II)
  She did not feel like getting up; it was cold too. She started counting from ten to one, like they do when launching a spaceship. It did not help. Then a bell rang, and the cheerful baritone of the Chief drove away the remnants of her dream, "The project"s won; the money"s on the account; after the work is finished all the team will get a vacation; and this means..." What it meant, Lerah knew herself: she had to get up and go to the office, though it was Sunday. Lerah assured the Chief that she was delighted, put on a dressing gown and went out on the balcony. Outside, the morning has just woken up; it washed in the night rain, opened the purl-gray cloud canopy, and gilded the windows of buildings, making them shine as stained glass. Lerah enjoyed the chilly, crystal air of March trying to pay no attention to a slight pain in her chest. "It"s all nonsense," she thought, "I"m Okay. True, there were four months of intensive work upcoming, but after-at least two weeks of sheer far niente... And Garik, too, is likely to be given a two-week leave, if only he makes an effort. And-to the seaside, together..." However, there was something else... Some vague recollection was rising from the very bottom of her soul, thrilling and pacifying in the same time, like the sunlight glittering through clouds. Following her old habit to analyze feelings and gut reactions, she got concentrated. What was it? Oh yes, mom! Mom came to her in her dream...
  She lost mother a few years ago. For a long time she dreamed of her every night. The dreams were different, yet they could be classified in three categories. The first one she called "Mom"s Come Back". With the normal degree of distortion, those dreams restored the scenes of their past everyday life; mother behaved as if she had come back from some trip, while Lerah, half crazy with happiness, cried, "They"ve deceived me! Mom hasn"t died! Here"s my mom!" The impression was so vivid that, awakened, she could hardly distinguish between dreams and reality. Gradually, the unconscious feeling crystallized into a belief that mother"s death was relative, while in the absolute reality she was alive, and they were together as ever. This belief was fed also by the second category of dreams where mother, very calm and serious, was as if sitting at a table opposite her and either reproaching her for something or explaining something for her, or giving her advice. The third category dreams could be classified as nightmares. Lerah was walking down some long dark hallway, peering into each room, looking for mother and not finding her. She would wake in tears, with aching heart, and it took her a while to regain consciousness.
  Gradually, the intensity of emotions faded, the dreams became less and less frequent; she seemed to have got her life together. And, all of a sudden, she was granted this splendid dream. Lerah concentrated. Yes, the vision was amazing. Mother was all shining. Light was emanating from her face, her hands, and from the marvelous snow-white raiment she had on. Looking at Lerah with a tender smile, she told her about something wonderful that had recently happened to her. Lerah could not remember the actual words, but she kept the memory of mother"s image radiating harmony and tranquility which helped her to survive. Yet life was growing more and more severe, getting overfilled with ruthless common vanities, and narrowing the choice. And the day came when there was no choice left. What was left was to guess how long she would last. Today, tomorrow, in a week, or in a month the claws of cancer will crush her heart sentenced by physicians without any option to appeal. Moreover, there was nobody to petition. Garik was gone long ago; married money and left. She had no children. Nobody wanted her anymore. "Oh mammy, dearest, if only I could start all over again..." Lerah bit her lip, "I won"t cry! But why, what does it mean now? Oh mammy..." She began to cry, quietly, whining, like when she was a kid.
  She lasted a week, then another week, and then she suddenly realized that she was no longer "lasting" but, on the contrary, she felt rather well. She still was afraid to admit it loudly, but deep inside she was positive that she had recovered. The clawed killer vanished... but how? At last, she made up her mind and got examined. It was not an illusion. She was healthy. Life was full of inspiring promises, like on that spring morning when... Mammy! She had not been dreaming of her for a long time... So, why was she suddenly anxious?
  That night Lerah dreamt of her. Mother was dressed in rags and tatters. Woeful, distressed, she said that she had been bestowed the greatest favor which turned out the greatest ordeal for her. She was allowed to see the Book of Life, and, turning over the pages, she found out the record related to her daughter. It read that Lerah would die from cancer.
  She tore the page out.
  
  
  THE WHITE RAIMENT (III)
   Could all of this have been avoided? Why, yes. His best friend Dimah did avoid; was sitting as still as a mouse, just whispered, hardly moving his lips, "Kolya, don"t do it!" That desperate whisper implied that it would not help Victor Sergeyevich, that it would spoil his own life for nothing, that they would shut down the project for good, that outside the assembly hall the spring was blooming, and that he was only twenty five... Was there really a choice? Anyhow, it was not a conscious choice; his decision was based not on weighing all pros and contras but on the deep inner conviction: "I can"t live in a lie."
   When he stood up and all the eyes had turned at him, he was bewildered by sudden disappearance of sounds, as though his ears were plugged. However, in reality the silence fell on the conference hall later when, looking straight at the Chairman of the meeting, he said that he did not believe in that his Research Supervisor was an enemy-of-the-nation.
   The system failed, but it got re-regulated very fast. Having come to senses after the shock, the society had wrapped him with a vacuum cover, isolating him as alien body, and put the regular mechanism into action.
   Paradoxically, in the camp he began to revive, that is to see, to hear, to feel smells. There was something else too: his perceptivity had sharpened enormously. But the most important was the sudden realization of that he was surrounded not by anthropomorphic creatures but by people. There were not many of them: a priest Father Arseni, a tractor driver Alyesha, a compositor Stepan Georgievich, and a criminal known by a nickname of Cashier which he got due to specialization in cash-boxes robbery.
   It manifested itself when the criminals, as was their custom, took away the firewood collected by Father Arseni who was on duty that day. With his usual kind smile, Father Arseni again began to collect fuelwood. And Kolya, who had earlier been an indifferent witness of many such episodes, rose suddenly and without a word followed the criminals. Having heard the shout of Stepan Georgievich, "Kolya, don"t do it!"-just as at that meeting-he stopped dead. Then Alyesha, who at first seemed not to be noticing what had been going on, came up and stood next to him. The criminals also stopped, smirking and changing insulting remarks. And again all the sounds vanished suddenly, and Kolya, looking straight at the nearest bandit like at the Chairman of that meeting, moved forward.
   He awakened in a hospital, with broken ribs. Alyesha, all wrapped in bandages, was screaming beside him, and from the bed by the window Stepan Georgievich was nodding shyly.
   Father Arseni came to see them as often as he could, and again Kolya was astonished by his tolerance, his absolute refusal to judge anybody, whoever it was. And when Kolya-by the way, well cured-was on his way back to the barrack, he found Cashier waiting for him round the corner. Without giving him a chance to utter a word, the poor guy handed him a crumpled letter. It was from Kolya"s mother. As he was held incommunicado, it was a pure miracle that mother"s letter had reached him. He did not believe in miracles back then, all the more he valued the risk Cashier had undergone.
   Thus began their friendship. They were so different that in the normal course of life only a caprice of fate might gather them together. But here in the camp they created a kind of brotherhood. And, though it was born due to Kolya"s reckless heroism, it was Father Arseni who became its indisputable leader. His endless kindness, tolerance, insight, and, most important, the combination of soft-heartedness and steadfastness attracted all people. He was not well educated; his knowledge of natural sciences was rather poor, and Stepan Georgievich exceeded him far in erudition. But he could penetrate in the very core of a matter even if he first heard of it. He could look at things with unprejudiced eyes of a child and could turn any conversation into a philosophical dispute. Owing to him, Kolya for the first time doubted that logic was the best tool of cognition and that scientific proof was the only possible decent argument. He began to think that his life had not been lost hopelessly, that he could stand everything, and that the camp life might well be looked at as an experiment. However, the newly acquired feeling of reconciliation with the absurd paradigm did not last long but had been broken by an incident awful even in the conditions of the arbitrary rule of a camp. Major Kostenyuk, a petty tyrant hated by all, including his fellow officers, found fault with Alyesha over trifles and, having had all the barrack formed up, began to beat him. He was growing more and more furious, and Kolya soon realized that something out of the common was going on. Kostenyuk got enraged as never before. A few minutes later Kolya understood that the major was going to beat Alyesha to death, and if... If what? What could he do? Rush at that monster? He would just get killed before he could do a few steps. But he could watch it neither! Kolya trembled all through; he was about to cry, but the scream stuck in his throat as he saw Father Arseni coming out of the line and approaching the major. In the calm, firm voice Father Arseni ordered the major to stop the beating. Kolya benumbed with horror of what might follow, but something inexplicable happened. Kostenyuk stopped obediently, ordered them all to disappear, and, without looking at anybody, went away. Astonished, Kolya, almost not realizing what he was doing, ran up to Alyesha and helped to transfer him to the barrack. After Alyesha had been provided with the necessary aid, Kolya, not daring to discuss the happening with Father Arseni, found a moment and shared his delight with Stepan Georgievich. But to his great surprise, the compositor shook his head, "Father Arseni did nothing of the kind", he said. "He was standing in the line, still and silent like others."
   Kolya did not argue. He went out of the barrack, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. And-the third shock- he remembered the detail he had disregarded at first: when Father Arseni went up to the major, he was wearing an extraordinary, as if shining, white raiment.
  
  
  THE FOURTH STATE (I)
   This birth was the most thrilling in my life. It, I admit, yielded to the third one in magnificence, it was not so intricately-spectacular as the seventh reincarnation, and, perhaps, the eleventh rebirth was more harmonious, but... How to express? Never before had I enjoyed emotions of such depth and strength. For the first time in my life, I did not entirely given myself up to the element of explosion but was also watching it from outside. I was as if creating my own self. It was splendid! In a flash, my whole nature, all my being, shrank to a dazzling point of exultant delight, and then it blazed up, overshadowing everything with blinding shine. And, having heard expressions of admiration from all over the universe, at the culmination of the explosion, I cognized the harmony of my new being. But before dissolving in it I pulled myself together and produced one more excellent luminous cloud. With furious pace, it rushed forward carrying my response-salutation, gratitude, and love.
  Then my luminosity began to decline; then I estimated the losses in my substance; then I started a mad game: now blazing up violently, now getting into prostration; then, inevitably, the time came for the quiet, serene burning. And after that I started investigating the world, getting amazed and glad at everything new. With renewed energy, I tuned in the information exchange and, having noticed two happy lovers staring at me in enchantment, I sent them a ray shield.
   God, how grateful I am to You!
   Time will pass, and I will again pray to You, and You will again send me a sparkle of Your light-the divine impulse.
   And I will again enjoy the great happiness of birth.
  
  
  THE FOURTH STATE (II)
   Tonight, tonight, tonight...
   Tonight!
   The air in the office was electrified by anticipation of the evening. The papers did not wish to lie on the table-they flew about the room by the slightest breath. The mirror on the wall tempted to look into its depths like in the window to the future, to the fate, to this evening... And now and then numerous visitors-from colleagues and subscribers to street madmen-peeped in to ask something or just to chat with her a little. The last of them slammed the door, and Maya looked at the watch: still two hours to wait. The view of the locked door and the sudden silence caused her an unbearable pang of pain. And that gray creature with sad narrow eyes-the fear-started trembling desperately.
   Maya pressed her temples. The phone rang; she had to go to the Press Centre. Wonderful! To move! Not to wait. Not to get crazy. Not to think. Not to... The colors, sounds, and bustle of the streets stunned her as if she had not left the office for years. Maya threw back her head. The bright blue sky, the radiant clouds... A breeze fell upon a tree, played with thin twigs. The tree caught it and threw to Maya: breathe! Maya started to breathe, deeply and thankfully. Splendid! Now get hurry, hurry, hurry... to the Press Centre. She must visit about ten editorial offices. She must do her job. She must stay alive until tonight. Until tonight, tonight, tonight... It"s not that long. An ecstatic thrill overfilled her.
   In the last office on her list, the staff was discussing a recent movie, the winner of the most popular awards in the world. "This is the most thrilling film of our century," Maya heard, and suddenly she broke out, "No!" she cried, "The most thrilling film of our century is on now!" All the faces turned to her with the same question, "Where?" And, triumphantly, she thrust her arm towards the opened window and cried, "There!" They did not understand and cried again, "Where, where?" She laughed, approached the window, and bent out pointing not only with her hand but also with all her being at the world spread outside, "There!" And she turned back beaming. They laughed and roared in response, interestedly, sympathetically. They understood. Though, what could they understand? They did not know that tonight, tonight, tonight...
   At last, the evening came; she reached the crossroads where they arranged to meet and saw him on the opposite side of the street. Having sensed her gaze, he turned, and Maya saw a golden halo blazing around his head. "My God, this is his aura! I"ve seen his aura," she thought, and everything drowned in the golden haze.
  
  
  THE FOURTH STATE (III)
   The idea first came to her when passing by the university laboratory of physics she glanced through the open door, saw the violet stream of plasma and froze mesmerized. The violet shine was flowing deeply immersed in an estranged movement from nowhere to nowhere, from minus infinity to plus infinity. But in the same time, paradoxically, there was something vivid and rebellious in its nature. And also, it somehow saw Maya. They were looking at each other penetrating into the very essence of each other, absorbing it and memorizing the feeling of unbelievable rebellious harmony. This had been lasting for a few minutes, till the laboratory assistants noticed her and burst into laughter. Grinning and waving hands, they offered her to come closer; Maya got embarrassed and went out.
   Late in the evening, locked in her room, she closed her eyes recalling the violet miracle and her own feelings. Suddenly, she realized what it all was like. Yes, exactly so. First, an uncertain sadness, unreasonable restlessness, inner isolation from the rest of the world when outwardly you do everything you are supposed to do, while inwardly you are deeply immersed in the intense search for the only rhythm, the unique form which the work of soul should take. Then, the first line appears filling the soul with bright joy: "That"s it!" Then, recollections, impressions, feelings, discoveries, flashes of inspiration flow through the burning brain which transforms them into words united by the rhythm like beads on a string. Then the turn comes for admiration and amazement at your own work. Then, the thinned soul looks around and shrivels from pain. Then, you return back to the world of things and relations.
   Say what you want, but this world, regardless of its apparent indifference, does changes a bit due to every creative act.
  
  
  THE FOURTH STATE (IV)
   "Now I"m asking you... to forget what you"ve just heard... for a while... and remember what you came for," the master was speaking slowly, with pauses, giving the listeners time to come back from the heights (or depths) where they had been led by his intricate thought. He was watching the audience with his large wet shining eyes of uncertain, changeable color; his glance, they said, could awake the hidden thoughts and latent abilities of a person and put them into motion, they also said that if a sea were able to look, it would look that way.
   Meanwhile, the visitors got animated and began to whisper and to pass soft drinks to one another. He smiled, waited for a while, came down from the pulpit, and stood at the very edge of the stage.
   "You may ask questions."
   A lot of hands rose. One by one they stated their problems (the deadlocks they had been led to by the roads of life) and got quick clear answers. He explained to everyone what had happened and specified several possible solutions, always adding that they could find even better alternatives themselves if they tried; finally, looking straight into their eyes, he charged them with the bright energy of hope.
   The master once more watched the listeners. Cheered up, with eyes glittering happily and thankfully, they mentally were already there where the new horizons had been opened for them, yet they lingered because they felt glad in this light cool hall with high windows.
   Only one spot kept radiating restlessness: a young man who never dared to ask his question. He was sitting with drooped head, biting his lips, but as he felt the master"s gaze, he straightened. The master nodded encouragingly. The youth smiled.
   "I have read your book."
   The master raised his eyebrows.
   "I mean the last one," the guy said, "The Thought and Motion". I think it is brilliant as hell. It tells what I... all people... have been trying to understand since the very moment we started thinking. I was as if speaking with my own self. But it is also the most devilish lie that..." he halted.
   "Why?"
   "Because when I read your book through and closed it, I felt exactly like I would after talking to myself.
   "What exactly did you feel?"
   "Emptiness, no, it was poisonous bitterness. That feeling of being deceived, bluffed... Because... all the damned questions for which I seemed to have received the answers rushed upon me again... they even multiplied... I thought I was getting crazy... I thought I"d better not to think at all... I was the most miserable man in the world... and I "closed myself" like a book... and tried to live... simply to live... then all the damned thoughts gathered and fell upon me again, like hungry wolves...
  And what shall I do? I can"t kill them, I can"t give up, and I don"t want to get into a madhouse."
   The boy fell silent defiantly, ready to oppose to any suggestion.
   "You are complaining about movement in a circle, but nobody compels you to do it, nobody, except yourself. You yourself had outlined that circle. You are like that beetle which follows in its own footsteps and devours its own excrement. This causes the feeling of being poisoned and hunted down. What should you do? Get off the circle. The situation may be coped only if you rise above it."
   "How?"
   "For example, start writing. Don"t try to run away from the mad wolves, don"t try to feed their ever-hungry bellies, but look straight in their eyes and begin to write about them. Very soon they will become nothing more than images, and you will realize that they always were just shades.
   When the guests were gone, he went out into the garden and lay under a mulberry. Looking at the flowers and leaves, he thought how finely and precisely the exquisiteness and simplicity combine in curves and colors of all living things. He recalled everything he had heard at the meeting and decided what might be taken for his next book. In the end, he remembered the guy with his mad wolves and smiled. He dozed smiling, and in the dream he kept looking at the sunshine penetrating through the dense canopy. Gradually, the lace of leaves thinned and vanished, and the golden shine filled everything. And this miraculous light was in the continuous complicated motion and simultaneously it was emanating a divine tranquillity. It was living and it was looking at him without eyes and talking to him without words. He was overfilled with delight. "God!" he exclaimed, "I wish it could always be like this, but, alas, this is just a dream..." And with regret he closed his eyes.
   People still keep visiting him; they come from the remotest corners of the world to sit beside him for a while in the cool silence of the hall or in the garden, and they leave as if washed with the life-giving water, intending to start life anew.
   They say that his eyes have acquired a constant color-golden brown-and shine against the sun like amber.
  
  
  THE SOLITARY WAY (I)
  I subdued the black fire of suffering.
  From the noble silver of contemplations and golden sparkles of joy I forged a crown, encrusted it with the diamonds of the cognized truths, admired it, and hung it on the nail in my room. Day after day I contemplated the crown of my creation enjoying and admiring its beauty. But time passed while I had nobody to share my joy with. Because I lived alone, and though friends called on me and appreciated the work of a master, they would not stay long, but soon left carried away by the cares of this world.
  Dust covered my crown. The nail it hung on sagged. And the day came when sitting in the corner, I watched with desperate indifference as it slipped off the nail and fell down. It would have inevitably fallen into dirt since my room had not been cleaned for a long time, but for an angel who appeared all of a sudden and caught it in the air. The angel just glimpsed at me, and I realized that he would not say me anything nice or encouraging. But I also understood that my work would be saved.
  And I stood up and left easily the littered cloister of the past. It was not the lightness of freedom but liberation from a burden.
  I hit the road burdenless.
  
  THE SOLITARY WAY (II)
   I am looking in the mirror, peering into every detail of the reflected world. And I want to see more than a mere reflection. Mirror is an enigma. The enigma of mirror is the enigma of life. The Holy Spirit had been reflected in water, and Adam Kadmon was born. Water is a mirror. Reflecting is giving birth. A cell copies itself through splitting, i.e. it is reflected in an invisible mirror.
  Our world is a reflection of the world of havens, but where is the mirror?
  What is its nature?
  Why the distortion is so strong?
  
  
  THE SOLITARY WAY (III)
  I am walking down the road. Through asphalt, I sense the earth; it is breathing and loving... I look up and see the bright blue sky; it is waiting... A tree stops me, smiling with thousands of green eyes. I press my hand to its trunk and lock the system: Sky-Earth-Tree-Me.
  I am dissolving in the energetic harmony.
  I start counting: one, two, three, four... A subtle energetic stream comes into being... it begins to swing me. I know that this is a hidden door to the other world, but the back entrance is not for me. I love trees for their beauty and mystery and I pity them a little bit.
  I have an advantage-motion.
  I am on the road.
  I am always on the road.
  
  
  THE SOLITARY WAY (IV)
  Higher than the highest mountains I rose in spirit. In the face of havens I looked and saw a smile of welcome. A golden cloud washed me with the rain of irradiation. And two wings from the heavenly height fell on my shoulders.
  And I flew up, soared to the Kingdom of Light. That light flamed brighter than fire, brighter than lightning, brighter than the midday sun. It began burning unbearably. My eyes had blazed up. An intolerable burning pain had blinded them.
  I awoke, naked and barefooted, in darkness. I stepped and sensed slippery slabs under my feet. I stretched my arms, and they embraced emptiness.
  Only the dazzling memory of the divine light remained.
  Only the dull pain in the shoulders remained.
  Maybe my flight was merely a dream?
  And I went forward with closed eyes and stretched arms like a blind man.
  
  
  THE SOLITARY WAY (V)
  Lord, may Thy will be done.
  I sincerely ask, "Forgive me," for I do see the arm of justice, yet in my darkness I make new mistakes and commit new sins, and I ask again for forgiveness.
  Lord, may Thy will be done.
  I sincerely ask, "Teach me," so that I will never lapse into sin again.
  It hurts me. But the most painful thing is that I don"t understand my guilt.
  Lord, may Thy will be done.
  
  
  THE COGNITION (I)
  Of all things nothing is more tempting than knowledge and of all things nothing is more illusory than knowledge.
  Eagerness for cognition is unquenchable and tormenting.
  You make your spiral ascent, now soaring in the ecstasy of illumination, now clambering slowly, now falling dawn, dropping the bloodstained shreds of skin and of self-respect into the abyss. And the peak-here it is!-glaring with the pure brightness of heavenly truths.
  The last turn, your feet are bleeding, your eyes are half-blind; you are whispering the cherished words with chapped lips. And what do you see? A handful of cheap gems sparkling in the light of your own imagination. You still remain in the same locked space of your personality, in the trap of Mobius, in the rings of the snake that had swallowed its own tail.
  In a desperate final effort of fading consciousness, you break the shell of your personality, and the sun flashes in your heart, and you soar in the stream of plasma.
  And what follows? Again disappointment: you can"t remain worthy of the truth you"ve cognized.
  Having cognized the happiness and the horror of the fourth state, the golden heat of love without suffer, the infantile-blissful lightness, the peace of cradle, you inevitably return back to yourself, into the private hell separated from the all-human hell by an insecure hedge.
  And the cycle repeats itself over and over.
  But why?
  Everybody knows where the source of the centripetal force is, but where is the source of the centrifugal force?
  
  
  THE COGNITION (II)
   "What is "miracle"?"
   "Fundamental notions are not subject to definition."
   "Then please give me an example."
   "Life."
   "I wouldn"t call it miracle: life is too hard and ugly."
   "Creation of life."
   "But why should it be created if it inevitably becomes hard and ugly?"
   "Have you got children?"
   "Yes, three."
   "How did you dare give them birth? Say, the first one was born because of your foolishness, but the second, the third? It wasn"t the instinct of propagation, was it?"
   "Oh no!"
   "You love them! They are your precious joy, and this joy overwhelms everything, right?"
   "Right. But..."
   "But why do you deny this in the case of the Creator? Likewise, He is glad at the birth of every child. Likewise, He loves children and expects miracles from them."
   "Expects? What about the predestination? The idea of predestination was the alpha and omega throughout all the times. In the Greek myths, for instant, it appears in all possible and impossible variations. Then, the Gospel-"It is written in the Prophets"-you can find something like that almost on each page."
  "Predestination is not absolute. People wrongly take for it the most probable course of events. Myths? Remember that the Greek gods were most of all afraid that some mortal would break the course of destination. Ergo, it could be broken. The Gospel? I believe there are programs in implementation of which the heavens are interested. Jesus had such a program, and He knew that. Yet, He had His choice. This is He who said, "It is written in the Prophets". This was His voluntary choice. As to us, sinners, yes, we are all programmed; they inserted a personal program into us before our birth. But they also put a seed of unpredictability into that same program. Water it with the dead water of hatred, and it will become a mutating virus. Give it to drink the water of life, and it will become a beautiful tree, quite like that mustard seed. It"s up to you. Here is one more miracle-the unpredictability.
  
  
  THE FREEDOM
  
  Motion is an aspiration to freedom.
  Knowledge is a temptation.
  Cognition is a delusion.
  The whole point is to be always in the road.
  The aim of the Traveler is to come to God with pure heart.
  Freedom is serving out of love.
  
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