Бесплатный фрагмент - Frequency of the Universe

Introduction

In the distant future, where the boundaries between reality and virtuality erased beyond recognition, and technology reached a level that was once considered impossible, humanity encountered a new era-the era of the singularity. Spaceships conquered the expanses of galaxies, artificial intelligence became an integral part of everyday life, and the colonies on distant planets no longer seemed to be fantastic. But in this world, where science and a dream merged together, a secret was hidden that could change everything. The secret that will make humanity ask the question: who are we really – the creators of our fate or just pawns in someone else’s game?

City Bern

The action takes place in Switzerland. The old city of Bern, as if a revived page from a medieval novel, was spread out on a high hill washed by the emerald waters of the Aara River. His narrow streets, paved with paving stones, wriggled between old houses with arcades, which kept the breath of centuries. Each stone here breathed in history, each facade was a story about the past, about the times when Bern was a stronghold of power and culture.

Gothic spiers of the Cathedral of St. Vincent soared into the sky, like arrows directed to God. His stained -glass windows, playing with paints in the rays of the sunset sun, seemed to come to life, telling biblical stories to those who dared to look inside. And in the square in front of the cathedral, under the shadow of centuries -old Lip, stood the Moses fountain, whose figure, full of dignity, reminded of eternal laws and truths.

The streets of the Old City were an open -air gallery. Fountains with figures of bears, dragons and angels decorated with bright coats of arms, like guards, stood at the intersections, observing the life of the city. The bear – the symbol of Bern – met everywhere: on flags, signs, facades of houses. He reminded that this city was founded in the place where these powerful animals were once found.

The arched galleries, stretching along the streets, created the feeling that you were walking through time. Under their arches, cozy cafes were hidden, where fragrant coffee and fresh pastries, antique shops, full of treasures of the past, and workshops of artisans, where things with the soul were still created. Here, time flowed more slowly, as if giving the opportunity to enjoy every moment.

In the evening, when the sun sat over the horizon, the old city was transformed. The facades of the houses, illuminated by the soft light of the lanterns, discarded long shadows, creating a mysterious atmosphere. The Aara River, reflecting the last rays of sunset, turned into a mirror in which the city saw its reflection – eternal and unchanging.

The old city of Bern was not just a place. It was a state of mind. Here, the past and the present were intertwined so closely that it seemed as if time to stop to allow everyone who came here to touch eternity.

People walked along small alleys. There were tables along the street; Someone read the newspaper with the last news, in the air we hung the aromas of coffee and branded pastries. Around flaunted windows with expensive clothes.

Emma worked in one of them.

Emma

Her smile was a ray of sun on a cloudy day – sincere, light, contagious. She was not artificial or on duty, like many in the service sector. Emma smiled because she really liked what she did. She believed that everyone deserves to feel beautiful and confident, and her smile seemed to say: “I will help you find what would make you happy.” People came to her with a difficult mood, and left easily in the shower and a smile on their face.

Clients came to Emma not only behind fashionable outfits, but also to plunge into the warm light of her eyes, who seemed to look into the depths of each person and saw something special, something that others did not notice. When she looked at the client, her gaze was not just attentive – he was soulful, as if she tried to solve his story in order to understand what made him unique. And people felt it. They opened before her, like books, trusting her their innermost desires and dreams.

Some clients admitted that they come to the store not so much for shopping as for her energy.

“You are like a ray of light,” they told her.

Emma was always embarrassed by such words, but deep down was happy that she could give people something more than just clothes. She created an atmosphere of comfort and trust around her, in which everyone felt important and valuable.

Her manner of communication was light, natural and laid -back. She did not press, did not impose, but gently directed, helping customers find what really suited them. She could easily choose the perfect outfit for a business meeting or offer something unexpected for a party, always considering the tastes and preferences of a person. And she did it with such sincerity that people returned to her again and again, bringing friends and acquaintances with them.

Emma has become a kind of “visiting card” of the store. Her colleagues joked that she was their main “magnet” for customers. But for Emma herself, it was most important to see how people were transformed, how a spark of confidence lights up in their eyes when they found what they were looking for. She believed that fashion is not just about the appearance, but about the internal state, and its sincerity and warmth helped people feel better.

Madame Grace

One of these clients was Madame Grace – a woman with an impeccable taste and aristocratic manners, which seemed to leave the pages of a classic novel. Madame Grace was not just a client – she became Emma a kind of inspiration. Her style, combining classics and modernity, her ability to wear even the simplest things with royal dignity, delighted Emma. Every time Madame Grace went to the store, Emma felt her heart start to fight faster. She knew that this visit would not be just a purchase, but a real lesson in style and elegance.

Their communication always began with a slight conversation. Madame Grace loved to talk about her travels, about how she once lived in Paris and visited shows of fashion houses. Her stories were filled with bright details and subtle humor, and Emma caught her every word, as if listening to a fascinating fairy tale. Madame Grace, in turn, appreciated her sincerity and the ability to listen in Emma. She often said that Emma is the only one who understands her taste and can choose what is perfect.

Once Madame Grace admitted:

— You, my dear, – like a sip of fresh air. Your energy and love for your work inspire me.

Grace became for Emma not only a client, but also a mentor. She gave her advice on how to develop her sense of style, how to find a balance between classics and modernity.

— Fashion, my dear, is not just clothes. This is an art that helps us express ourselves. Fashion as an understanding of certain processes on Earth has always changed. So humanity develops. A new era is a new round of development. And you have a gift to see beauty in every person.

Her visits to the store have always become an event for Emma.

Conflict with Thomas

With her, Emma forgot even a recent parting with her boyfriend, Thomas, to whom she trusted as herself.

The conflict between Emma and Thomas arose suddenly, like a thunderstorm among the clear sky. It all started with the fact that Emma accidentally discovered the documents that Thomas signed as a lawyer in a large company. These papers concerned a transaction that deprived the inhabitants of the small area of their houses and land for the construction of a new commercial complex. People, many of whom lived there all their lives, were on the verge of losses of everything that they had.

Emma, with her sensitive heart and a heightened sense of justice, could not stay away. She always believed that Thomas is a man of principles, that he puts honesty and morality above benefit. But now her faith staggered into him. She felt deceived, devoted. How could he participate in this? How could he sign these documents, knowing that the fate of real people stand behind them?

Their conversation happened in the evening when Thomas returned home. Emma met him with documents in her hands, her eyes burned with indignation and pain:

“Do you know what it means?” She asked, barely restraining a trembling in her voice. “Do you know that because of this people will lose their homes?”

Thomas tried to explain that it was part of his work, that he only performed instructions, but for Emma it sounded like an empty excuse.

— You could refuse! She exclaimed. – You could say no! But you chose money, not people. How could you?

Her words cut Thomas, but he understood that she was right. He tried to explain that in his profession he often had to make a difficult choice, that not everything is so unambiguous, but Emma did not want to listen. For her, it was a betrayal of those values that she thought, they shared.

Their dispute lasted for hours. Emma accused Thomas of cynicism of that he lost touch with reality, with people who suffer due to decisions adopted in the offices. Thomas, in turn, defended himself, saying that the world is not perfect, that sometimes you have to compromise. But for Emma a compromise with a conscience was impossible.

This quarrel was a turning point in their relationship. Emma felt that a wall that she did not know how to overcome it grew between them. She always admired Thomas for his mind, determination, but now she saw in him a man who, for the sake of his career, is ready to give up his principles. And Thomas, in turn, felt that Emma did not understand the complexity of his work, that she judges him too strictly.

Walks in the square

After a quarrel with Thomas, Emma found consolation in walks along one of the streets of the old city, which led to a small area with a fountain. This place became her refuge, a corner of calm, where she could be alone with herself and her thoughts. The square was small, but comfortable, surrounded by old houses with tiled roofs and decorated with a fountain, in the center of which stood a stone figure of an angel holding a jug in his hands, from which water flowed.

But the main inhabitants of the square were pigeons. There have always been a lot of them – flocks of gray, white and brown birds that flew to the fountain in search of water and crumbs left by passers -by. Emma loved to watch them. She came here with a small bag of bread or grain and sat on a bench under a spreading tree. Pigeons quickly got used to her and began to fly away as soon as she appeared. They circled around, sat on her shoulders, pecked the crumbs with her palms, and at these moments, Emma felt her anxiety and sorrows gradually leaving.

Walking around this area has become a ritual for her. She came here in the morning, before work, or in the evening, when the city was silent, and the streets were lit by the soft light of the lanterns. Here she could think, dream, remember. Sometimes she imagined how one day her boutique would be somewhere nearby, and she would come here to relax after a working day. The thought of this gave her strength.

Once, sitting on a bench and watching pigeons, Emma noticed an elderly woman who also often came to this square. She fed birds and sometimes whispered something to them, as if telling her stories. Emma smiled, catching herself thinking that she may look the same – a woman who finds comfort in communicating with pigeons. But this did not bother her. In this place, she felt part of something more, part of life that continues, despite all the difficulties.

Sometimes, when the pigeons flew up, their wings shone in the sun, and Emma froze, fascinated by this beauty. At such moments, she remembered the words of Madame Grace:

— Beauty – in the moments that touch the soul.

And she understood that it was precisely such moments that help her move forward, despite everything that happens in her life.

Old man

This strange old man who appeared at the fountain seemed a man obsessed with the idea of a global catastrophe. His neat appearance and a gray beard gave him the appearance of a sage or prophet, and his words sounded as a warning to all humanity. He talked about the approach of Armageddon, but not in the traditional biblical sense, but as a result of the actions of the people themselves. His speeches were filled with anxiety about the future of the planet, and he persistently repeated that alien races only observe our self -destruction without interfering.

He drew attention to environmental problems: natural pollution, plastic islands in the oceans, which have become a symbol of human irresponsibility. He argued that micro plastic on the surface of the ocean violates the natural processes of water evaporation, which, in turn, leads to the destruction of the ozone layer and overheating of the atmosphere. According to him, this is only part of the problem. Heating the bottom of the ocean and the accumulation of static energy, in his opinion, can lead to large -scale cataclysms in the next 10 years.

His words sounded like an apocalyptic scenario, but they had a share of truth. Many scientists really sound the alarm about climate change, oceans pollution and an increase in the frequency of natural disasters. The old man urged people and countries to stop competition and unite to save the planet, it was not too late. His speeches, perhaps, seemed strange and even frightening, but they forced to think about where humanity was moving and what we would leave behind future generations.

The old man, despite his gloomy predictions, always added a note of hope, saying that those who have pure thoughts and a clear conscience will be able to escape. However, his words were rarely perceived seriously. People, passing by, either laughed or shrugged, considering him the next city crazy. But there was one guy named Brad, who seemed to really listen to him. Brad was not sure of the veracity of the old man’s words, but something caught him in them.

Brad

Once, a guy of about twenty and a little, with carelessly laid dark hair, which always seemed slightly disheveled, as if he had just got out of bed or left the wind, approached the old man. His eyes, gray-blue, as if reflecting the sky in front of a thunderstorm, always looked carefully, with a light shadow of skepticism, but at the same time with curiosity. He wore simple clothes – a dark jeans, rubbed jeans and sneakers, which clearly saw more than one thousand steps. On his left hand was a barely noticeable tattoo – a small symbol in the form of a tree, which, as he once mentioned, meant a connection with nature for him.

Brad was not the one who can be called bright or charismatic. He was rather quiet, observant, preferring to listen to what to say. But when he nevertheless entered into a conversation, his words were always balanced, sometimes even sharp, if he felt that the interlocutor was talking insincerely. He did not believe in the light paths and did not trust loud promises, whether from politicians, activists or even such strange personalities as the old man at the fountain.

However, something in this old man hooked Brad. Maybe it was his sincerity, or the very absurdity of his words, which, oddly enough, seemed closer to the truth than everything that Brad heard on TV or read in the news. Brad was not naive – he understood that the old man could be just crazy. But in his words there was some strange logic that made me think.

Brad often came to the fountain after work or studies, sat on a bench nearby and watched the old man who, as always, walked around the area, turning to passers -by. Sometimes Brad approached him, asked questions, argued or simply listened. He did not know if he himself believes in what the old man says, but these conversations became for him something like an outlet in the world that seemed to him more and more insane and hopeless.

Once, when the old man said that people should stop fighting each other and start fighting for the salvation of the planet, Brad asked:

— And what if we have already passed the point of no return? What if everything that you say no longer matters, because it is already too late?

The old man looked at him with some strange mixture of sadness and hope.

— What is your name?

“Brad,” the guy answered.

— You’re right, Brad. Perhaps it’s already too late. But even if this is so, does it mean that we should just give up? Does this mean that we should not try?

Brad did not answer. He just sat looking at the water in the fountain, and thought. I thought that perhaps the old man was not so wrong. And what, perhaps, even if there are no chances, it is still worth trying. At least for yourself. At least for the sake of those who come after.

---

And he said:

— Even if all people suddenly become pure in their thoughts and stop competition, this will not stop the aliens if they really want to do something. And even if we begin to take care of nature, it’s too late to change something. Cataclysms have already begun, and they will only intensify.

The old man carefully looked at Brad, his eyes seemed to shine with a strange inner light. He replied:

— You’re right, Brad. Some pure thoughts and good intentions are not enough. But this is only the first step. If people do not change themselves, they will not be able to change the world around. Aliens … They are not enemies. They are only observers. They expect to see if we can understand our mistakes and fix them. If not, then our fate will be a foregone conclusion.

Brad thought. He was not sure whether to believe the old man, but something in his words sounded believable. Maybe it was not just a conspiracy theory, but a warning that was worth hearing. Brad began to come to the fountain more often to talk with the old man, asking him questions about the future, about nature, about what can be done to change at least something.

The old man, in turn, saw in Brad the one who may be able to convey his ideas to others. He said:

— You, Brad, one of the few who is able to see next to your nose. But remember, even if it seems that everything is hopeless, there is always a chance. A chance to change yourself, and through yourself – and the world around.

And although most people still did not perceive the old man seriously, Brad began to notice that his own views on the world are gradually changing. He began to think more about nature, about his actions and what everyone can do to at least slightly improve the situation. Maybe the old man was strange, but his words, like seeds, began to germinate in the mind of Brad, and who knows what this could lead to …

A trip to the store

On Saturday, Emma, as usual, got into her car to go shopping. The day was warm, almost perfect for such things. The sun gently shone through the light clouds, and the city lived its usual life: coffee houses worked on the main street, from which the aroma of freshly brewed coffee came, and the children on the site drove the ball, laughing and screaming. The light breeze brought the smell of freshly chopped grass and fried nuts from the cross -boat shop, creating a cozy atmosphere of the weekend.

Emma turned on the radio, settled on her favorite wave, and went along a familiar route. She planned to call in the store for groceries, and then, perhaps, look into the cafe to drink coffee and relax a bit. But the plans changed dramatically when her car suddenly stalled in the middle of the road. She tried to start her again, but the engine only published weak attempts before she was completely silent.

Emma sighed, realizing that her trip to the store turned into a real problem. She got out of the car, examined it, but, having no special knowledge in the mechanics, she quickly realized that she herself could not do anything. I got through to the nearest workshop, where she promised to help as soon as possible.

James

James came behind her on his tractor, huge and brilliant, as if just from the assembly line. He was her old friend, he, without hesitation, abandoned his affairs and rushed to the rescue. James has always been so reliable, ready to come to the rescue in any situation. His tractor, which he affectionately called the Monster, was his pride and means of earnings, but today he became a rescue transport for Emma.

He left the cabin, smiled at his wide, kind smile and said:

— Well, um, get into history again?

Emma rolled her eyes, but smiled back.

“Don’t start, James.” Just the car decided that today is not her day.

Emma sat in the cabin of the tractor, feeling a little awkward due to the fact that she distracted James from his affairs. But he, as always, was calm and even joked along the road, telling funny stories from his trips. Emma could not help but laugh, despite all the troubles of this day.

When they drove up, Emma went into a small car repair shop, where it smelled of oil and metal. Behind the counter, having buried his laptop, Michael was sitting – a thin guy with glasses, who was more versed in the code than in cars, helped with electronics.

“Boss, as I understand it, have you already taken payment?” He threw lazily, not looking up from the screen. – Or are we working here for thanks, as volunteers in the shelter?

James, without giving his eyes, continued to pour coffee into a mug.

“We have known her for a long time,” he answered, finally. “So don’t be bore and be more powerful.” We have such guests do not come in every day.

“Oh, guests,” the guy rolled his eyes, not looking up from the screen. – That is, if I understand correctly, this is not just a client, but a guest. Is she with a crown on her head? Or maybe she has a magic wand that turns your “no” into “yes”?

“She has something more interesting,” James squinted cunningly, taking a sip of coffee. – Check book. And, apparently, she does not hesitate to use it.

“Yeah,” the guy finally broke away from the screen, staring at James with suspicion. -That is, if I get up now, smile and say something like “welcome to our modest establishment”, will they increase my salary? Or at least give a bonus in the form of a free dinner?

“You will receive a bonus in the form of an opportunity to continue to work here,” James answered dryly, putting a mug on the table. – And by the way, if she asks, you are our best employee. Understood?

“The best employee,” the guy snorted, plunging into the game again. – Well, yes, of course. And you are the most honest boss in the world. And we, by the way, are the best coffee. But I would not advise her to try him, if she, of course, does not plan to get to know the local doctor today.

James sighed and headed for the door, muttering something about the “youth” and “irredity.” The guy, left alone, grinned and added:

— And yes, boss, if she asks, I also took payment.

James was a former military man who retired after 8 years of service. He lost his family in a car accident and no longer made sense to continue his military career, deciding to return to a peaceful life, settling a mechanic in a small car service. Cars were always his passion – he loved to disassemble and assemble engines, restore old cars.

When they finished repairs, the girl awkwardly looked down.

— Oh … I … forgot my wallet at home. I’m so embarrassed …

James only grinned, shaking oil from his fingers.

— Real assistance does not require payment. People should support each other simply because it is right.

She looked at him in surprise.

— Do you think so?

— Yes. The world would be better if people helped each other, and not just thought about profit.

Michael snorted, not looking up from the laptop.

“You are again with your philosophical speeches, right?”

James just smiled.

Cafe

The cafe was on the corner of a small street, it looked modest outside, but it was comfortable inside: wooden tables with warm lamps, walls hung with black and white photographs of the city, and the light aroma of freshly advanced coffee, which was strangely mixed with the smell of beer and baking.

Behind the counter stood Barista – a guy of about thirty, in a black apron and with light carelessness. He looked like a person who had long come to terms with fate to pour coffee and beer philosophizing visitors, but found his pleasure in this.

James and Emma went deep into the conversation, beer in their glasses gradually disappeared, and the topic had already touched on such depths that one could not do without a second portion.

Barista, without changing facial expressions, put new glasses in front of them and calmly said:

— Great choice! Today we have a special offer: three glasses – and you automatically sign up for the course “How not to call the former after midnight.”

James grinned, raised his glass and said:

— Well, to the former – this is definitely not about me. But for conversations with a pleasant person at least to the ends of the earth.

Emma smiled, grabbed a glass and added:

“So the discount is laid for us.” We philosophize, but for love.

Barista pretended to be thinking, nodded and, giving them an account, added:

— Well, if so, the surcharge is only for particularly deep thoughts. Everything is honest.

James and Emma laughed, clung their glasses and continued the conversation, enjoying the warm atmosphere of the cafe, as if being in their small world.

Conversations and trips

After that, they talked. About life, about the fact that she dreams of once opening her boutique, about her love for walks in the native town. The fact that people in the modern world, in the pursuit of money, completely forgot that you can live and not rush anywhere without burning your life in an endless race. Emma told how she would like to see the world: without wars, where there are neither poor nor sick. How could everything be arranged. To which James replied that he was also often attended by the same philosophical thoughts.

After the day when James came to the aid of Emma, something changed between them. Their friendship, always warm and trusting, began to develop into something more. James began to take Emma after work, and they went to ride his jeep, which he called the Monster. This became their ritual, the moment when they could distract from the everyday fuss and simply enjoy each other’s society.

Jeep James was an old, but well -groomed, with a powerful engine and a high clearance that allowed them to drive along the most impassable roads. Emma loved these trips. She felt free when the wind fluttered her hair, and endless landscapes stretched around. James always knew where to go – to the lake where they could observe the sunset, then in the forest where you could stop and just listen to the silence.

Their conversations were long and deep. They talked about everything: about dreams, fears, past and future. James told Emma about his trips, about how he rode through the desert one night and saw the stars that seemed so close to reaching his hand. Emma, in turn, shared with him her thoughts about work, about how she sometimes feels locked in a routine, but these trips with him gave her a feeling of freedom.

One evening, when they stopped at the top of the hill, from where the view of the whole city opened, James suddenly said:

“You know, um, I always thought that my life is a road.” Constant movement, new places, new faces. But now, with you, I begin to understand that sometimes it is worth stopping. Just be.

Emma looked at him, smiled and answered:

— Maybe this is the most important to find someone with whom you want to stay.

Since then, their trips have become even more frequent. They did not just ride – they created their little adventures. Sometimes they took with them a thermos with hot coffee and sandwiches, arranging picnics. Sometimes they just drove without a goal until they found any interesting place that they had not known about before.

Their relationship developed naturally, without haste. They did not need words to understand that they were feeling each other. It was in their views, in how they laughed together, in how James always found a way to make her day better.

Once, when they stopped again on the very hill, James took Emma by the hand and said:

“Um, I don’t know where this road leads.” But I know that I want to follow it with you.

Cataclysms

Once, by an ordinary day, when Emma and James walked around the city, holding each other’s hand, their attention was attracted by a huge screen located on the facade of one of the buildings.

An interview was broadcast on the screen, and the speaker was none other than Richard Verton – a famous politician, a master of manipulation and a lover of public speeches. He was about fifty years old, and he always appeared in public in his branded black hat, which seemed to be part of his image. Verton was a small official who climbed up the career ladder with the help of lies, bribery and empty promises. His face, with an arrogant smile and a cold look, caused many a feeling of hostility.