On this restless night, Oleg had a strange, even mystical, dream that was both mesmerizing and frightening. In this dream, he saw vast human processions moving towards what could be described as their newfound deity. The creature's four mighty legs, shrouded in an ethereal glow, stood firmly on the ground, resembling giant centuries-old trees with their invisible peaks reaching into the unattainable heights of the clouds. The creature's hooves, reminiscent of earthly skyscrapers, shimmered with gold and mother-of-pearl. Its head, hidden from the view of these mere mortals, seemed to reside in the great and eternal heights, occasionally emitting incomprehensible mumblings. Or perhaps these pathetic humans were simply too small and foolish to understand his language?
Like small streams, the endless human processions flowed towards its feet, and only there, surrounded by its golden radiance, did they seem to find their long-awaited peace. They stopped, gazing longingly into the clouds, as if trying to determine if their offerings were satisfactory.
Some of those who came and bowed before the creature carried and presented their wristwatches, whose hands seemed to come to a great frenzy, as if gaining incredible speed in the blink of an eye, the moment they were placed at its hooves. Others used their carried knives to open own veins and generously sprinkle their blood on the ground around its great hooves, emitting heart-wrenching cries, as if the creature, enveloped in its alluring golden majesty, could somehow perceive their insignificant pain. Among the pilgrims, there were those who presented their deity with stacks of colored papers filled with numbers, which, upon being placed at its hooves, turned to ashes in the blink of an eye, and were swiftly dispersed by sudden gusts of wind. Finally, there were those who were too bold or too foolish to bring their newborn children to his feet: their faces were instantly filled with tears, and then, with silent, unbearable cries, these children disappeared into a vague, grayish-crimson haze, as if they had never been born, as if they had never existed on earth.
Oleg saw these seemingly endless processions from above, floating at an unattainable height, like an unheard-of human bird that had managed to break free from the oppressive bonds of earthly gravity once and for all. He could not see the creature's horned head with his ordinary human eyes, but his spirit could sense the immense, dark-red eyes that were fixed on him, piercing and examining his soul. The beast was not pleased with its celestial observer. It despised those who rejected its gift.
The gift manifested itself in a single and uniform way. Those who brought their sacrifices to the beast's gigantic hooves were briefly illuminated by an unheard-of golden glow, a gift from their deity, and then their dirty and dusty clothes transformed into gleaming gold. The people rejoiced, laughed, cried, and embraced each other, witnessing their own physical transformation. They sang and danced with happiness, forming circles and offering prayers of gratitude to their master. Inspired, they set off in the direction indicated by the beast's gigantic tail, descending from the heavens. However, their surprise and horror were immeasurable when they finally reached their designated territories. When they arrived where they belonged.
Storms raged where his tail ended. Thousands of lightning bolts flashed around, and the space resounded with a thunderous roar every now and then. The rapidly approaching roaring black tornadoes picked up these hapless travelers, tearing their golden robes in the blink of an eye and leaving them completely naked. Much like snakes, they caught people trying to escape and sucked them into their dark depths. It was impossible to understand what happened to them next, but none of those who reached the end of their journey could survive this storm. With cries and screams of inescapable terror, half-naked, distraught pilgrims rushed between the tornadoes, unable to stop them.…
For how can one prevent what he has chosen himself?
* * *
“Tiling-tiling! Tiling-tiling!” the phone happily announced, breaking the morning silence with its excessively intrusive ringing.
“Hello? What do you want?” Oleg muttered listlessly into the phone, half asleep, still not fully recovered from the night vision he had just seen in all its golden glory.
“Oleg Alexandrov? Good day to you! My name is Antony the Spineless, I am the manager of your mobile phone operator ‘Gibberish-TS’. Tell me, please, would it be convenient for you to talk now?”
"Why are you calling me so early? It's a mess!” Oleg almost cursed, still being half asleep.
“For it’s a daytime already! Our main office is located in Magadan!” a certain Antony delighted Oleg with his geographical foresight. “I'm calling you about your recent application. We've already agreed on everything.”
“What kind of application? I didn't apply to anything!” rubbing his swollen eyes and still desperately trying to wake up, Oleg mumbled into the phone.
"What do you mean? Of course, the one that was automatically generated and automatically approved for you by the latest artificial intelligence system we use, ‘Gibberish-AI’ or ‘GAI’. All that's left is to confirm your agreement. Please dictate the SMS code that will be sent to your phone.”
“Your names sound so artificial. They're so vague,” Oleg quipped. “I don't see anything natural or human about it, and I won't confirm your application. Don't you want to ask me for the login code for the State Services website?!”
“Was that truly possible?” the phone asked in a naive tone.
“Of course not!” Oleg replied firmly. “You're not some kind of scammer, are you?”
“We're not filthy scammers, mind you! Don't you worry!” Antony, the manager, confirmed. “We're much better than that. Are you ready to accept our final offer?”
“May I ask what the essence of your offer is? Come on, don't drag out the cat by its tail… or rather, don't muddy the waters unnecessarily!”
“This is a new insurance offer. Insurance of your civil liability to your neighbors against excessive frequency clogging by your Wi-Fi router. Just ninety-nine rubles and ninety-nine kopecks for the first three months, and then…”
“Move on!” Oleg ordered into the phone, already almost awake. “Has this, what's her name, “GAI” of yours managed to come up with something more adequate?”
“Insurance of your router against a combat drone hitting it. And a free bonus to the meteorite strike option! Only today, the cost will be only…”
“Can you insure my phone against your intrusive calls getting into it?” Oleg abruptly interrupted Antony's monologue. “That would be a very useful option.”
“Unfortunately… unfortunately, our super advanced artificial intelligence system has not yet formed such an interesting offer for us, and then for you. But we will definitely consider all your wishes! I've already written everything down and I'll definitely send it to the right place!” Antony assured peremptorily.
“Pass it over to the anti-spam committee of all Russia!” Oleg barked into the phone. “That's where people like you belong. Is that all, I hope?” he expressed a timid hope for a quick end to their conversation.
“Wait a minute!” the phone worried, puzzled by the lack of offers sold to the client. “We have another unique offer. A black and white list!”
“How's that? Explain yourself at once!” Oleg expressed his sincere surprise.
“Well, you've probably already heard about the white lists of services, right? That's it!” the phone began to chirp happily again. “Now you can block any of the white addresses for your opponent. To blacklist him, so to speak. Imagine what a surprise awaits him when he won't be able to order his favorite lavender raff, take a taxi somewhere, or even— God forbid! — use the services of the well-known green bank. All this is worth a lot, don't you agree?” Antony winked at him invisibly into the phone.
“Please tell me more specifically how much to charge. I mean, how much in rubles?”
“Fifty rubles for an address from the list for the selected number.”
“That's too expensive,” Oleg said into the phone. “I don't have more than thirty silver coins for all your daring offers, so I'm sorry.”
“And the last option is 'Connection for an hour'!” Antony said as if nothing had happened.
“And what does that mean in your dialect?”
“As you may already know from your experience of dodging enemy drones, we completely block access to mobile internet during times of danger. However, as part of our unique offer, we are willing to leave it for your number. The cost is only five hundred rubles per hour. Time is money, as they say!” comrade Antony the Spineless said excitedly.
“Did your AI system come up with this?”
“Yes, it did! It's the most brilliant system! We've heard some amazing suggestions from it lately…” Antony chuckled into the phone.
“Have you received any offers not to call me?” Oleg decided to clarify, just in case.
“Alas and ah!” the receiver sounded disappointed. “Such proposals have not been received in our system until today.”
“Goodbye then!” Oleg said shortly and dropped the call.
Damn it, his favorite morning coffee, and not all sorts of spineless salesmen, was still waiting for him!
“Tiling-tiling! Tiling-tiling!” the phone beeped loudly again, in order to inform him with feigned mechanical joy about a new incoming and, very likely, marketing-intrusive and almost completely useless offer.
“Alexander Richsoon, Customer Relations Manager at ‘Gibberish Money Bank’. Can I talk to Oleg Alexandrov?”
“To be honest, this guy is a little busy right now,” Oleg, who had already started making his morning coffee, decided to joke.
“And what about him?” the receiver was genuinely surprised. “Is he alive and well?”
“He's alive and well as he shall. But there is one problem. Some strange guy is bothering him. Soon… goon… stich… lich… What in the hell was his name? Soon-to-be-rich, aye!”
“Well, it's me!” the receiver was taken aback. “Dear Oleg, don't joke like that. I still have to collect my premium bonus from you.”
“What kind of fucking bonus?” Oleg was surprised.
“For successfully preventing a fraudulent operation, of course!” Oleg was stunned by the phone.
“I don't understand… Have you caught another oligarch in the middle of withdrawing his capital to intimate offshore locations? I'm sorry, but I haven't watched today's news yet,” Oleg was busily disappointed. “Although, as an extremely average citizen, I certainly approve of such a course!”
“A payment of fifteen thousand rubles was received on your debit card yesterday. The sender is a certain Social Fund of the Russian Federation. Tell me, please, are you familiar with this organization?”
“I wish I hadn't known it at all!” Oleg waved his hands, almost dropping the phone.
“Scammers?” Alexander agreed with him understandingly. “It turns out that our advanced ‘GAI’ system correctly identified the category of the sender of funds.”
“Those are real scammers! And cheapskates as well! A pension of fifteen thousand rubles — where is it seen, where is it paid? Wait a minute… Did you just deprive me of my pension for a month?” Oleg was furious. “It turns out that you are also scammers!”
“Oh,” said the receiver. “It was a mistake on our part. That's strange… our system didn't malfunction before. But we will definitely fix and unblock everything. All you need to do is write an application for unblocking the funds transferred to you at one of our bank's offices, and your issue will almost certainly be resolved within sixty days!” Comrade Richsoon joyfully assured him of the inevitability of the upcoming happy outcome.
“Sixty days? And how do you think I have to live on now?! Eat manna from heavens? Are you going to use my money interest-free all this time?”
“Well, but of course,” the receiver assured him. “After all, we act strictly within the law. We're preventing suspicious transactions, you know? We protect your money!”
“From whom — from ourselves?” Oleg was taken aback. “You just robbed me of my own money, do you understand that?”
“Technically, they're not yours anymore,” Alexander said, as if with an invisible caustic grin. “Now they're our bank's loan obligations to you. And you can be sure that we will protect our credit obligations from you at any cost! After all, without your money, we are nobody.”
“Return me the money!” Oleg frowned into the phone.
“In the meantime, our ‘Gibberish Money Bank’ bank has prepared for you a pre-approved, though not activated, credit card with a limit of fifty thousand rubles. That's almost four of your pensions, dear Oleg Alexandrov! You will be rich, even without a salary!”
“Scammers!” Oleg shouted into the phone again, completely upset. “Scammers as you are!”
“The Pensionless card. Forty percent per annum!” as if not hearing the cry of his soul, the phone continued to boast. “The grace period is thirty whole days! Do you take it?”
“Why would I need your credit card? I need my pension!”
“With a little bit of help from our side, you will be able to provide yourself with everything you need while our bank is considering your request to unlock your funds. And you can be sure that if there are no signs of fraudulent transactions, we will definitely unblock them after the mentioned sixty days period.”
“When can I use your fucking credit card?” Oleg was ready to give up the hopelessness of his financial situation at the mercy of the moneylenders.
“As soon as you confirm the operation of issuing a pre-approved credit card with an SMS code.”
“Would you also block it by any chance?” Oleg decided to clarify just in case.
“To tell you the truth, it's also quite possible,” the operator replied evasively. “If our anti-fraud system finds that it is not you who want to use your card, but the ubiquitous scammers, it can block it. In this case, you will no longer be able to use the loan funds, however, it goes without saying that after the grace period expires, we will still charge you interest for using them.”
“And what kind of idiot came up with this whole system?!” Oleg finally fumed.
“GAI: a new generation of artificial intelligence. Reliable solutions for your unreliable business. Developer: FCK e-business LLC. Let's do something together!” at that moment, the phone suddenly burst into some kind of robotic voice, completely unlike not only the voice of a living and adequate person, but even the voice of the operator of this miraculous bank.
“Uh… and what was that just now?” Oleg mumbled incomprehensibly into the phone.
“Spontaneous advertising integration that you couldn't help but listen to!” the receiver announced again in an operator's voice full of enchanting enthusiasm. “This is also an idea of the ‘GAI’ system. It's great, isn't it? I would never have thought of that myself!” Alexander, who introduced himself, tried to convince Oleg of the scarcity of his own intellectual abilities.
“Your usurious deeds are murky, and your souls are fallen!” Oleg adopted a pompous tone.
“So, are you confirming the issuance of your pre-approved credit card?” the operator announced with naive hope in his voice.
“…But God will impose justice upon you, and you won't like it!” Oleg finished and pressed the call drop call button with all his might. Then he put his phone on silent mode and added the last two incoming numbers to his personal (and very vast!) “black” list.
Well, tomorrow was going to be a difficult day for him. He'll have to order dreary bank statements. He will have to look for old electronic receipts. He will have to write explanatory notes indicating the objectives of the financial transactions. He will have to bow with a petition to the moneylenders he hates, who have decided to brazenly appropriate for themselves, among many others, his honestly hard-and-sweat-work-earned money.
But all this will only happen tomorrow. And today he still had to take a relaxing walk under the blooming spring trees of the huge park permeated by the rays of the sun. And, of course, the alluring and fresh smell and taste of his beloved and adored freshly brewed coffee.
* * *
On this new night, Oleg, exhausted by the burdens of the earth, had a completely different dream. It was as if fate had taken pity on him for a brief moment and granted respite to his tormented spirit.
In this dream, he saw vast crowds of people — entire earthly processions marching with red banners through the streets of familiar cities. Joyful and inspired, they flocked to city squares, parks, and gardens. “Peace! Labor! May! Paradise!” Oleg, gliding invisibly among them, managed to read on one of the posters, which featured the iconic images of a hammer and sickle that he remembered from his own childhood. On another poster, he saw a blooming red rose against a backdrop of blue skies. On a third poster, he saw a children's dance party surrounded by golden wheat fields. And then...
He was now circling high above the Earth, like an eternal satellite. From the perspective of a celestial wanderer, he observed the ruins of Western countries and the alliances of Eastern ones. He saw Africa, lush with greenery, and Russia, singing hymns to the God, now warmer and more vibrant, as if covered by a radiant, light-blue sky dome. There were fewer people, but what people they were!
He observed them from the heights of his celestial flight, and they… they were also flying! Although they were slightly lower than his orbit, the planes had disappeared — not a single one of the tens of thousands remained in the Earth's atmosphere. Who needed them now? There were no drones, no missiles flying back and forth, no tanks. No wars. No pain.
It was as if, for the first time in many decades — centuries, even! — the people living down there had finally found and understood the true meaning of their lives, and with this great insight came the happiness that had long been waiting on the threshold of their souls. And with this happiness came the dawn…
* * *
“Ting-a-ling! Ting-a-ling!” rang out the familiar melody, once again rudely pulling Oleg out of the sweet embrace of this wonderful dream.
“Fearcrashdustfuckfinance Bank is here!” the phone confidently announced. “Good morning, Oleg Alexandrov. We have a stunning loan offer for you!”