The Algorithm of Chaos - Сергей Николаевич Огольцов

his meditative depths. Back to the the surface he came available again to the world around. What pulled him? It was an intent stare at V waking up from his wait, a call for the eye contact in the look full of kind understanding directed at him from the shiny, cute, brown eyes.

The puppy had no collar with the owner’s phone number or GPS tracker. Seeing that V was here at last, the dog dropped with his belly onto the walk, right opposite V, and smiled. Another stray vagabond just like he now, except for not having a few virtual wallets with crypt currencies stashed for a rainy day. The puppy stuck out his flat leaf of tongue enjoying the warm sun.

‘What’s your name, boy?’ To which there came a slight growl. ‘No? You’re a lady?’ A sonorous yap in agreement.

‘Sorry, girl, no offense intended. And the name is?’ The puppy uttered two whimpers.

‘Nice to meet you, Toto, I’m V. Are you hungry?’

The dog instantly jumped up on all of its four.

‘Well, lets look for a nearby hot-dog vendor’.

V rose from the bench and left the common whistling softly “Bury Me Not On The Lone Praire”. Where the hell the tune clung to him from?

The shaggy pup tap-tapped its short paws close behind tattooing the asphalt with earnest determination.

* * *

13

‘You’re alone?’ V seemed surprised.

‘I invited her but she gave me a look not-in-the-mood, you know. Besides, she’s obviously sore at you for giving her up so readily and she thinks you deserve a kinda correctional quarantine. It was written in her face’.

‘I never promised her a rose island. And as if I had a choice! You, girls, fell for each other at first sight! How are they getting on, Toto and your Aunt?’

‘Brilliantly. Toto of her own accord brings Sylvia her spectacles and remote control while Auntie has a gossip who listens to and backs up her endless yarn with polite whines in proper places, a kinda “atagirl!” or “well, I never!”’

‘Good news. I was reluctant to keep Toto at my lodging in that fish-tank apartment block. The naughty kids in the open galleries and stuff.’

‘O, kids would love her’.

‘Yeah, sure, it’s just I didn’t want to stick out. “The Mister with that lovely pup”? No, thanks, I’d rather stay a face in the crowd. The last but not least of it, I hate being responsible for anyone besides myself. Letting down a person who counts on you? Or even putting them at risk? Nah, not in my line. And you know what? Toto has more of personality in her than lot’s of guys I've met around.’

‘Characteristically, you saved your weightiest reason for the end. Still, life if too unpredictable for any split-hair logic. And making your decision you forgot to ask Toto if she agrees to it. Anyway, it’s too late now and Sylvia will never give Toto back. Relax, the coast is clear, no responsibilities in sight’.

Askance, V looked at Leya seated by his side. While talking she watched a toddler who chased a sizable bright ball along the walk, two escapees from the woman pushing a baby carriage. She passed by the pair on the bench without seeing them, too absorbed in following each step, not too steady, of her responsibility who kept grabbing-and-dropping the naughty ball. She passed by, not seeing another pair of faces in the crowd enjoying a nice peaceful day in the common. Lovers? Hardly, no arm outstretched to touch, to stake off the treasure sitting by. A married couple? Miles away! Together, married people get benefit of nature only in the backyard, their or their friends’, at the scheduled barbecue. So, a pair of friends, siblings, business partners the lady passed by.

V liked the look of her face, calm as this here warm and slightly pensive day assured of its beauty shared to all able to see and feel. Yes, beauty was undeniably there, in her face of matte skin in the soft transparent shadow of her hair made lighter by the rays of the sun descending towards the evening behind their bench. V felt pleasure and gratitude. He knew he owed her one. As big as life. Why, it was life itself he owed her!. She’s saved his life and knew it as well as he did. Still, she didn’t press for anything, and that’s why he was grateful. First, V had to check how the land lies, why he was after and by who. Discovery yet not occurred, he still had to wait.

The lodging he found was cheap and unpretentious, one-room on the third floor of a motel-like affair with elementary facilities. One of his crypt-stashes, the first he was starting with way back, turned out to be hacked—access denied, and when he bore into thru a slipshod substitution with a notebook from a nearby junk shop (he did miss his PC but shipping a similar equipment to his present place would look more conspicuous then keeping Toto) and in the README.md file left there by the conceited looter he found the message “Fuck you, sucker!” in block letters.

V reacted with a shrug of understanding. Yep, bro, that’s life and this is the world we’re living it. Today you’re riding high and mighty, make sure to accumulate a plum sum for the day I come to fleece you. For now though, he delayed tracing the the cocky upstart (using VPN, huh? I like your naivety, bro, no shit, I do) and zeroing in on the asshole’s cloud assets. The postponement was also the result of his addiction denied by him and labeled a harmless whim, which still was too time-consuming for an innocent hobby.

Yes, the 2ic’s friendly gift turned a Trojan Horse (invented by Ulysses, not the guys at Kaspersky Laboratories at the dawn of computer virology). V positively addicted