The Algorithm of Chaos - Сергей Николаевич Огольцов

he usually spun in his chat to himself.

He rehearsed out loud before to turn the mouse wheel and bring it up:

'The shocking truth, bro V, is I do not give a fuck about any wise advice like yours, whenever facing resplendence of a line wrought craftily, so will you most kindly shut up?'

Yep. Here you are. Tangible enough to feel with your rubbed in nose that 2ic was not kidding. They do know how to write down thoughts from that—what was the word, again?—something like "noosphere", and his, V's, private thoughts got in the common catch. Welcome to the bright brave new world, buddy! He sat back completely flabber-fucking-gasted.

So, that's it. The irrefutable discovery grossed him out. Sledge-hammered. It ran him over by the magnitude of all-pervading implications of what has been revealed right now. The proof still stood up before his gaze stuck to the screen. Well, I never…

The Samsung rang in his jacket's inside pocket. What?! Who could possibly know his new number? The number still used in no calls? He answered.

The moon-like mug of 2ic in the screen looked drawn and troubled. Too troubled.

'No time for talking, V. Just believe me. Run! Right now! You've got 30 plus seconds…'

What the fu… Hasn't he been… The number's compromised? And a whole pack of other thought-fragments shot thru V's mind while—the phone dropped back, the memory card grabbed hastily—he rushed to his apartment door. On the landing V paused, read the blinks of indicator of the elevator—two levels below, climbing up—and closed the door behind him, slow and carefully, no slamming.

He walked up the stairs and stopped on the upper landing trying to keep unnoticeable. The elevator slammed open at the floor just left by V to let thee men of a business-meant demeanor.

They neared the entrance to his apartment. One of them pushed the door ring button, the rest readied their sidearms. The ring resounding remained unanswered too. The man shook his head and produced a neat bunch of skeleton-keys. The door lock clicked submissively, the armed men entered the apartment, the lock tamer stayed back.

Now the hit men will see the switched on PC in the V's study, they will check his bedroom and the bathroom room, empty as well, and then…

V took a cautious backward step…

* * *

8

Where to? In 2 more floors the final flight of stares runs up to the securely latched and padlocked door to the roof. It’s a dead end confirmed by some of a teenage explorers who left their graffiti across the sheet metal in the door sealing the impasse, “Fuck you’re all!” Once V’s had a chance to check the settings after a recreational stick, he felt that time a nature lover awakening in him and ventured for a long and winding trek up. The endless stair flights for 3 floors and not a single water head along the way. He easily could die of thirst that time and emphasized wholeheartedly the other bro sociopath and his legend crowning the deed, askew yet sincere.

It’s a clear-cut trap he’s got into. Calling the elevator provides no way out, the guy would intercept it on V’s floor, step in and go up to hello V with the gat orifice to his face. Seems like the kid’s wish has come true, V was fucked up indeed filled with adrenaline and despair on that landing…

Light tapping on his left shoulder started him to look back. A face encircled with crisp brown locks, the index finger pressed to soft lips in warning, the apartment door ajar behind her back. She moved her head in mute invitation. V followed this goddess ex machina.

They entered and to the door’s click there sounded a female voice from some room in the apartment:

‘What’s there, Leya?’

‘A pizza-delivery boy hit the wrong floor, Auntie!’

‘The kids get stupider each year! Come, close the window, I feel chilly!’ Called out the same voice.

‘OK, Auntie! Just a moment!’

V involuntarily clapped his eye to the peep-hole pressing his palms to the door surface the way you would caress your SUV side when earnestly implored by a police officer touting his gun, “Please? Sir?”

Two men shrouded in complete muteness strangely reminiscent of glass diving bell traversed the landing outside. Their hostilely peeled eyes kept scanning all the quarters while they flicked thru his field of vision.

V turned about.

‘Shh!’ whispered Leya and also turned to walk off in soft steps, echoing panther pliancy, to the nearest room. She didn’t look back to make sure that he follows her example. As though he had an alternative!.

Inside, she dropped her shoulder bag onto a spruce cot and left immediately.

It was a small bedroom of a person who does not care much for decorating. No candy posters appealing to a lover of gory brazenness or, on the contrary, of mellow graciosity. However, the inhabitant was not indifferent to their place and evidently possessed a certain knack for the pop-art presented by a composition produced of computer laser disks (antique! the outdated artifacts!) in the wall opposite the bed. The area about 2 square meters covered with tight, even rows of shiny circles mounted on glue resembled armors of a giant knight or else a panoply for his horse.

The girl returned pretty soon. She closed the door and stood facing him as if in expectation. Her face looked vaguely familiar to V, he did see it someplace yet it was hard to put a finger on when and where. He tried at an embarrassed smile.

‘Hello,’ said she, ‘at last! You've done it!’

The girl sat onto a chair by the door and looking up at him, went on. ‘You might take a seat too, it’s not the elevator here’.

‘Have we ever met?’ began he hesitatingly, while sinking on the other chair in the only