"Tell me a tale, my dear..."

Tell me one more fairy tale about him, my love... Your tale... Tale of David 8 so unlike all the other Davids of the same line... There were so many of them... Like water drops in a handful that you scooped in the endless river of creation... All the androids are very similar to one another... When people are born, they are similar to one another like androids from the same series...

Little people wouldn't be immediately recognized even by their mothers if the latest would take a quick look at ones-they-have-recently-Created... That's why a small differential sign is given to each new Creation - for not to take one of them to another... Maybe it's just a tag on a string... The differential sign that has been given to you may look like anything... For example, like number tattooed on a hand... And then you're definitely becoming just one serial number in a sequence of other, same as you, numbers... It seems, at the very end of the journey, the tags on a string are tied to the toes of those who already went far enough on quite another river... And again the tying of your body to something that earlier differ it somewhat from the other bodies that left will be done for not to take newcomers to the last point of departure for the others who's lying in the queue... not someone else's grief of someone's depart and there's no difference for the "Tier": whom he was, whose cold body with recently beating heart is now soulless lying in front of him in the endless line of the Others, similar to one another like robots ready for shipping...

Is there now such a big difference between us, Non-living, who had just lost their soul and heart and those Innocents whom we, using cold high intelligence, were able to create but failed to fill with heart and soul?.. Do we have the right to be proud before our creations something we own so bad and clumsy, and how much good and worthy of using our souls and hearts are for we to be sure that it's not a wealth, after all, and not infinitely spoiled by us priceless heritage given to us by someone much more intelligent and high?..

I know this sounds not very fun and quite unexpectedly... but you're not surprised already when I now and then are wandering into the outside Forest of Tangled Thoughts... Please, my love, trust me and just go along with me, and I will be trying to return back to place where I started and catching from time to time runaway thought-mouse by thin hasty tail...

It's just between us, who have been created once by someone very big and endlessly lonely in the world he's created himself, later recreated by each other in warm tender beds and those whom we created in more cold, more high-tech and far more intellectual environment is not such a big difference... There are many of them... There are more of us... They are alike... We, in our very beginning and in the end remaining in what we were once born by our mothers, distinguish not that much...

- You are silent...

- I'm waiting you to say something...

- Stop, Lena...

- Were you listening or peering?

- "Contrariwise..." I was trying to see and to hear... and, after all, you missed something...

- ???

- You yourself allowed me to believe that your head is always opened for me...

- Like my heart...

- From where should I start my fairy tale of Your David?

- From the fact that you know and I do not... That I won't be able to see even in the best bonuses and "behind the scenes"...

- And what's that?

- Things in your head at a time when you only was starting to imagine whom he should be – Your David 8...

- This is a big secret...

- I'm not going to tell it anyone...There's no stranger's eyes here, in our house floating in the air among big and small planets, that means that no one and nothing can be seen and heard... There's no time in this place (or it belongs just to us) that means someone who came here just to stare can't count on getting and understanding anything ever... This is a big strange cupboard where you can cry, scream and laugh before the whole world and not before anyone at the same time... and the key to it lies only in one pocket… yours, my precious, my love...

- And what if the fairy tale will be long?

- Let it be very long... almost endless... like flying of the ship where no one is awake except David... let everyone whose lives he's keeping sleep in their freezers as long as possible, at least, as long as he controls the reliability of the monitoring of their activity, nothing is threatened its safety, and they, "snoring" in their turn have nothing to spoil.... somewhere far away in his infinite collapse is lying hurtled and disappointed in his own creation Engineer, sleep in ampoules small famished things which will be the beginning of big omnivorous woes... and we can in this time quietly make our never-ending journey, to learn, play basketball, read, watch favourite films, riding bikes and love this our world, who got what, and, above all, try to not make him worse than it was before it fell into our hands...

While I was flying this piece of heaven on the alphabetic buttons, the small discovery has been done by itself... You have a lot in yourself, Mickey, of an orient man… Strange ability to say passionately and quietly, without imposing anything, but no less convincing... Going down the road of life conforming with what she offered to you not as fatalist, and not as a rabid wrestler, but according the balance that is known only to you, the one that can allow you to remain yourself no matter into what merciless thresher of place, time and circumstances you've managed to get... I'm watching you and trying to learn to meet each new day with the open palms, because there won't be another one like this... will be the next, but this one we yet have live and we should try to make it without surprise, excessive drama and the very same lofty pathos... Each your character is endowed with the capacity to make their own everyday things that is saying about inner world of this man much more than could say the heroic ascent to a fire in the name of anything-what-would-it-be of the other character... Your little men remind of those who are inhabiting the world of Haruki Murakami... very strange, simple and kind demiurge...

Stepped realities inserted one into another and slowly flowing from one another so smoothly and naturally, as if you, being half-awake, with closed eyes walk the usual way from bedroom to bathroom and then back again...

It may seem that the guy just recently has been washing and ironing his shirts, threw from the friend girl's fridge produce that became unusable a long time ago, washing dusty windows, joking about his friend is jerking off on a poster with Suez Canal pinned on a wall in a small room of small student's hostel... But before you knew it, as you coming out to warm up at the backyard's sun and doze off, you're finding yourself in a very strange place... For example, in a forest that is filled with "timelessness" and those who are long dead, were killed, went missing, but still doesn't know it, and you may need a lot of strength and understanding to be able to come back... but it can turn out the way like there won't be enough of all of your efforts for do this simple and quite impossible thing...

I'm ready to go their way endlessly long and not think my time lost in vain... the wind is throwing into face the sakura petals… smells of water, fog and coming rain that is now somewhere on the top of a near mountain... and you're sitting still, guarding the moment of your time of pleasure... You think this is my carried away passionate lyrical digression, my love?.. not at all... this is all about your tale of David, his lonely happy and creative flight on the ship, and my secret knowledge of what he's dreaming about (and, perhaps, deep down, he's sure of it) that this ship should belong only to him...

My favourite part in a hasty restless tale of Prometheus... the most tender and thoughtful... almost loving, because the only one of those it has been told with relish and respect for simple things...

Let's just sit in silence next to each other, knowing that somewhere behind the walls planets are floating motionless, let's eat and drink anything that's included in the menu of Prometheus the ship and will go after his-yours feet in simple flip-flops, keeping clean and harmonious the inner things, the outside things...


to be continued...