Immortal

The last time I saw him was more than twelve years ago. This was the first of January, about one pm. He said that he was going to search for bananas for the girlfriend. His girlfriend slept soundly after a long New Year's Eve, which lasted until morning. He was not my friend, I would call him simply my good acquaintance, buddy. We went to clubs and discos, met girls, arranged parties, had fun. He was ten or twelve years older than me, at least, he looked like that. He was fun, he knew a lot about entertainment, feared nothing, was  wonderful company, was totally unobtrusive. Unfailing courtesy, tact, sometimes reaching the point of absurdity, subtle sense of humor and equanimity in the wildest situations (such as those we got in some time: after all, that were dashing nineties) made him a perfect companion. And I would have been glad to call him my friend, but he kept the distance politely but firmly. Nevertheless, we had a great time. During the last twelve years, I often fondly recalled the various episodes of our joint "feats". By the standards of the late nineties, it was almost an ordinary man about town with a lot of money and without a specific job. A tall, athletic brunette with an aristocratically regular face. A deep scar crossing the forehead, having the right eyebrow divided into two unequal parts, weighing the outer corner of the eye down a little, and ending with a zig-zag on his cheek, did not to spoil him, but even gave him some masculinity. When I asked where this beauty came from, he laughed it off, saying, that he fell from a horse. I did not ask about the origin of the scar any more.
He was almost normal. Almost, because his behavior was a bit strange, to be sure. For example, he was on formal terms with me, addressed me with “sir”. In all cases, and in any condition. My few attempts to make our relations more informal were cut short by him, explaining that this "sir" allowed him to feel free to communicate with me. And not just with me, I'd never heard him to address anyone without "sir" or “ma’am”, even those girls, whom he knew fleetingly, for one night. Even the next morning with a towel on his hips. It was strange, picturesque. His erudition also seemed strange to me. It seemed that he knew everything about everything. For six months of our acquaintance we had not touched upon a single topic on which he could not give a competent commentary. And we talked a lot and for long periods. We talked about art, history, politics, religion, science, philosophy, law, in short, about everything. It is common for two drunken men accidentally caught up in the evening without the company of women. My pal not only showed great knowledge of the subject, but often had a critical view on seemingly indisputable facts. However, he often quoted original sources: articles of the Civil Code, Confucius, Dostoevsky, the Bible, the Koran, I can not list everything. Also, he was fluent in almost all the European languages. Not to mention his Russian speech. When he was saying something, there often was a feeling that he quoted some book. His speech was absolutely, abnormally correct. I did not ask where he got such a huge amount of knowledge. We somehow had a rule, we do not ask each other about the past, occupation, we did not worm ourselves into the other’s confidence. As I said, my friend kept the distance.
Money was not a problem for him. Even without that problem. His careless attitude toward money, prices, things witnessed that his means were really sufficient. Not just large, but sufficient, sufficient for everything. And he had either got accustomed to it years ago, or had grown in an appropriate atmosphere.
Sometimes his desire to have fun was getting almost desperate, excessive: always handful of pills, cigars for smoking, group sex with several girls. At such moments, his scar was especially evident, red. Nevertheless, he remained polite and tactful, and I tried not to pay attention to his short-lived bursts, they occurred infrequently. At such moments, I could see clearly that his emotion was superficial, his brief cheerfulness and enthusiasm were not more than a desperate desire to rouse himself, to make himself feel something. And sometimes he could leave in the midst of a noisy party without explanation, saying that he would be back, and appear only on the next day or several days later in his usual quiet and friendly mood.
His eccentricities were his eccentricities, were harmless and did not prevent me to enjoy life in his great company. The joint "feats" lasted for approximately six months. And then there was the New Year, January 1, about one pm. I got out of the bedroom with a hangover and saw him in the hallway, putting on his coat. He said he was going to buy bananas for his girl. And was gone for twelve years.
Twelve years after the departure for bananas for a girl, he called me and said that we absolutely must meet. I did not recognize his voice at once, and he spoke as if we had parted only yesterday.
By this time I became quite a successful business owner, and got used to the fact that long absent "friends" usually appear in not the best periods of their life and the communication with them tend to roll down the "give money" topic. It would be very unpleasant for me to say the standard excuses: I had too warm memories about the half a year of our friendship. Moreover, these memories were multiplied by twelve years. The image of my friend, the events of that time, as usually happens to with the memories of youth, were polished, idealized. But he said that he did not need my money. Besides, he did not need a renaissance of relations. He actually said that - "renaissance of relations." And he said he was not going to offer me a crazy idea, how to earn a lot of money fast. Well, I agreed.
He did not invite me to his place, he said that he did not have one, because hey was passing through. He also refused to meet in a cafe or restaurant, too. The talk is going to be long and confidential, he said. In short, my old friend wanted me to invite him to my place. Moreover, he insisted on the fact that our conversation should not be disturbed by anyone, no one should hear us within a few hours. Anything stupid, like dinner, or even more, alcohol is not necessary, but he would not refuse to have a cup of good "Earl Grey". I will not recount how he tried to convince me, but he succeeded. I've always had a soft corner for clever people, and especially for clever people with some craziness, and he knew it.
Two minutes to seven, I saw a taxi riding up to my gate on a monitor of the outside chamber. And at seven, as agreed, the doorbell rang. I opened the door.
My friend looked just like twelve years ago in the hallway, when he was putting on a coat. No, I'm not talking about clothes. The clothes, as then, was flawless and did not attract attention. I was struck by his face. I can imagine how a man of fifty should look like (and according to my calculations that was the age of my friend). I also have experience of meeting "old friends", whom I have not seen for five or ten years. But even if we assume that my friend lived in the mountains, did not drink or smoke, was not sick, ate the right food, went in for sports and regularly visited a beautician for the last twelve years, anyway, this assumption did not explain the fact that his face was now the face of a 35 year-old man. And there was no hint of plastic surgery. He looked just the same, not old, had not changed at all. And the scar was still there.
He noticed my surprise and said, "Well, well ... it will be easier for you to believe. I think it can do without hugs and sentimental "do you remember?". Like I told you on the phone, I am here to do business. Where could we talk? "
I had prepared a table and two chairs near the burning fireplace for the talk. I brought an electric kettle, all the necessary stuff for making tea, cigars, and chocolate, disconnected phones, and lowered the blinds. I sent my people from home until tomorrow. In short, I tried to arrange everything so that we would not get distracted from the conversation the next few hours. My friend sat in a chair, putting a heavy leather bag near him, lit a cigar.
- Excellent ... So, right down to business. I've been preparing for this conversation, thought of how to begin it for a long time. But I had not thought of anything better than to start with the point. So, how do you think what my age is?
- Well ... I think about fifty ... Must be ... But...
- But ... I look just like the day when we separated, right? And I then do you think it was about thirty-five?
- Well, yes.
- Excellent. I am one hundred seventy-six. My birthday was, by the way, a week ago.
- Ñ-congratulations ...
- Thank you. I was born on April, 11, 1835, in the city of St. Petersburg. In the old style. I still celebrate in the old style. And in order to allay your instantly arising belief that you're talking to a madman, and vain regrets about the hassle of organizing the meeting, I prepared some of the evidence. Kindly get to know.
My friend pulled a thick bundle of documents out of his bag. Paper, photographs, newspaper clippings, passports, identification papers, some metal plates. And he began to offer them to me across the table, accompanying it with comments. The first one was a yellow page from a metric book, sealed up in plastics, which said that on April 11, 1835, in the city of St. Petersburg a boy with the name of my friend was really born. The name and surname of the father coincided with the last name and patronymic. The date of baptism, social class - a nobleman, the residence of his father, the name of the priest who baptized him was mentioned. It was also pointed out that the baptism took place in the house of a parishioner.
I said that, firstly, the page metric book did not prove anything and it was easy to forge, and secondly, I asked why he wanted to prove something to me. The pal agreed, one page did not prove anything, and it was really easy to forge. But he did not. The documents that he was ready to present to me, did not include neither any fake, nor even a single copy. Only the originals were there. In order to ensure his veracity, I had to look through all the materials carefully. I would learn later, why he would need it.
It took me more than an hour to look through all the materials. I saw two of his portraits on silver platters of daguerreotypes. One of them was dated 1855: a family portrait, my friend second from right, a young lad of twenty in a uniform. He stood half-turned to the photographer, to the left side, but his scar on the right side of his face was clearly visible. "I have not deceived you. I really fell off a horse when I was eighteen years old". The second one was dated 1871: a single portrait, my friend, looked just like now, if you do not take into account the thin mustache and goatee. The Certificate (of a candidate) of the Physics and Mathematics Faculty of the Imperial St. Petersburg University in 1859 and the diploma of  the Law Faculty of the University of Sorbonne in 1863. Excerpts from "St. Petersburg Vedomosti", dating from 1872 to 1891, mentioning the name of my friend. Excerpts from German, French and British newspapers, "Proceedings of the Imperial Russian Geographical Society" magazine of the early seventies of the nineteenth century, which wrote about some expedition, which my friend took part in. Several group photos of the expedition members. My guest was helping me look for him in those pictures. Passports of different countries, dating from the beginning to the end of the twentieth century. Russia, France, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, UK, Italy, Belgium, United States - my friend had been or still was a citizen of these countries at different times. Some passports were for fictitious names, but all the photographs clearly pictured his face.
I saw another set of documents: driver's licenses from different countries and times, marriage certificates, permanent residence permission of several states, diplomas from various universities in Europe, letters, certificates, plastic cards. My friend forced me to compare the names and dates of those documents with the names and dates on passports and other documents, read the letter. I asked questions, a lot of questions, asked for comments. Almost all of them got extensive, sometimes documented answers, and detailed comments. For some questions, my guest said: "Good question. I'll explain later in detail". When we finished the examination of documents, he lit up, the scar was blushing.
- Well, what would you say, my dear friend?
What could I say? Yes, let me go mad with you, and confirm that you live in the world almost one hundred and fifty years without growing old? Or stupidly say that everything is fake, bullshit, so go crazy without my company, and clear out of my house? No... I was used to trust the facts, and understood that all the presented materials were truly original; there were no question about it. And matching of documents, dates and facts clearly proved that the story of my friend actually lasted longer one hundred and fifty years. This story had just been presented to me in the documents. For one hundred and fifty years, he had not been getting old: all photos, taken at different times, pictured the same man with a scar, now sitting on front of me. But it was unbelievable, inexplicable, unprecedented. I could not imagine any, even rather weak explanation of the phenomenon. And why? Why would he want me to believe? What did he want from me? That was the main question in my mind. The answer to this would give an answer to the question "how". How did it happen?
- I do not know ... I would not say anything. Looks like the truth, but...
- But it's incredible. Is this true?
- Right.
- And what do I need from you? Have I guessed?
- Yes. Why do you need that?
- Excellent. I'm not asking you to comment on it. I see that you are willing to keep on listening to me. So, we can proceed to the next part of our meeting. You will receive an answer the main question: how I could do it. And you will realize, finally, why I am here and what I need from you.
He took a dictaphone from his bag. He explained that our further conversation should be recorded. Because the information that he would set out, must be kept and presented exactly, without guesswork and doubt. Seeing my dissatisfied look (I feel embarrassed in front of cameras as well as knowing that my voice is being recorded), my guest said that I would keep the recorder and made me promise that after completion of work, I would erase the record, he did not want to be recognized by his voice, and that he trusted me completely. I agreed and gave my word. My request to let me keep the documents for some time for a more detailed analysis was rejected. He said that he trusted me, but by chance, according to reasons, not depending on me, the documents may get lost, and this in turn could complicate his life. He considered a prior acquaintance with the documents to be sufficient enough for the business, he had come to me for. Then he asked for a cup of tea. While I was making tea, my guest tested the recorder, made a trial recording, prepared a spare battery.
After recording my friend listened to the record and erased some parts. I put these signs: [...] in the erased parts. The record of our conversation turned to be of excellent quality, and I guaranteed that preparing the transcription, I have not missed a single word; I can testify that I did not add anything by myself, or removed anything. The only creativity, I conducted during the preparation of the transcription - it's punctuation. I checked the compliance of the record to the resulting text four times, and I testify their full authenticity. After the completion of writing the transcription I, as promised, erased the audiotape.
Following the instructions of my friend, I stop the presentation on my behalf and offer you the transcription of our further discussion.
 
TRANSCRIPTION
Me: - I beg you.
Him: - Excellent! Thanks ... Mhm ... you, my dear pal, have become just an unbeaten master of making tea. I can declare this authoritatively.
Me: - Thank you. It's very flattering.
Him: - Well ... What flattery? This is a simple statement of fact. Tea is really wonderful, very good. Mhm... So, the recorder is turned on. Let us turn to the actual cause for which I am here. With your permission, I'll start again from the very beginning. Do you mind?
Me: - I do not mind. You should know better how to begin.
Him: - Yes ... Well, if you please ... As I said, I was born in 1835. The story of my childhood and youth is not related to our business, so let me omit this story. In 1863 in Paris after graduating from the Sorbonne, I accidentally became acquainted with an Englishman. It turned out that our fathers were in correspondence for many years, and we heard a lot about each other. That Englishman, despite being relatively young (he was something like 35 years old), was a member of the Royal Geographical Society. I will not tell his name, it is also irrelevant. By the time we met he had two interesting archaeological expeditions behind, and he was preparing the third one. I should say that I studied law at the Sorbonne, not so much due to my own ... umm ... will, but due my father's will. He said that physics and mathematics could not feed you in case of a trouble, but the law is always a sure source for living.
Me: - Hmm ... Nothing has changed.
Him: - Yes, it's true. So, I had followed the will of my father, but I was not willing neither to return home to St. Petersburg, nor uh... apply the knowledge, obtained in Paris. Especially since this was not a financial necessity. I was young, healthy and smart, desired to have fame and adventure. So when I heard about the planned expedition of my new-old friend, I naturally asked him to let me join the team. In addition to my health and physical and mathematical education, my money could be useful for the expedition, too. Besides, I had listened to some lectures at the University of Sorbonne, the theme of the study were precisely those places where the expedition was going to. And for some time I was very interested in archeology. [...] Money, I think, became a decisive factor. In short, I was accepted. The expedition was prepared for more than six months, people talked much about it, it was mentioned in newspapers, as you saw. At that time, the topic was quite popular. But it's not important. It is important that in the spring of 1865, we got under way. - We were nine people, including your most humble servant.
Me: - And where was the expedition going?
Him: - I'm not telling you that intentionally. I am not even saying from where and what vehicles we were driving. The fact is that any hint of this kind can help the wishing to go on the trail of the expedition. I decided for myself that I am not entitled to sharing this information with anyone else. But I will tell you about that later, when you're already aware of the case, you will understand my motives. Although ... For a man with an inquisitive mind and a great desire it will be easy to calculate the destination of the expedition. I will be forced to share some information, which indirectly indicates the location. But I will not give you a straightforward answer.
Me: - Okay. Let it be so. What is next?
Him: - Next... Next... Like they say in fairy tales, no one knows whether it was after a long or short while, but we got there. We hired workers... And the guide, who brought us to the right place. We started the excavations. [...] The guide did not do anything, but did not leave, though he was paid and told us that his services were no longer needed. He watched for a few days, keeping silent. The excavations had no results: it was obvious that we, er ... kind of, missed the mark. About ... [...] It seems, on the fourth day the guide suggested the Englishman, the leader of the expedition, a bargain. He would take us to a place where "there was much under the sand," and we would pay him a certain amount. He said that that place was not good, he would show us it from afar, and he would not come close. The amount was high: nearly all the money we had. We would have to refuse the service of workers. But the danger of the place intrigued, and we all agreed. We bargained with the guide and paid him. It took him two days to the guide us and pointed at the bottom of the hill, - "there." There was really "much under the sand" there, as the guide had promised. On the first day of excavation, we found a fragment of a wall, and then a narrow entrance to the room, its very top, it was a great success. There were no workers; we worked on our own from dawn to dusk. [...] We would not have had neither the strength nor the time to completely dig up the whole building, especially since we had no idea about the size of the structure. So we decided to move inside if possible.
Me: - That is, to clean the room inside?
Him: - Yes... [...] I think my story is too detailed.
Me: - You know better, of course ... But continue it is very interesting.
Him: - All the extra details are unnecessary. If possible, I will omit them. So, I continue ... We still cleaned the room from inside. There was a little ... umm ... something like a vestibule behind the entrance to the large hall. Fortunately, both rooms were without windows, and the sand had not filled them to the ceiling. Quite enough, but not too much sand had got there through cracks in the walls and through, apparently, vents. We cleaned up everything. [...] And on the basis of uh ... all the evidence we concluded that it was a temple. For sure. But the strange thing was the fact that it was a storage of a lot of ... how should I say?.. let's say, literature. A strange combination of such things as the God's home and a library. But... it's irrelevant. It does not matter ... You know what, my dear friend. How about having another cup of your wonderful tea ?
Me: - With pleasure. We can even light up another cigar.
Him: - Your cigars are good, my friend. But they are not in the same street as the good old «Romeo y Julieta». Those, which Sir Churchill used to smoke.
Me: - «Romeo y Julieta» can still be bought. And I can not say that they are so good.
Him: - That's it. But they used to be very good. The best.
Me: - The grass used to be greener, too.
Him: - Hmm ... I understand your irony. No. The grass was not greener. We can assume that perception changes with age. But mine have not changed for... umm ... many years. As well as the age, indeed. «Romeo y Julieta» became worse, in fact. The form is the same, the name is the same, but the taste... Other. And why?
Me: - Why?
Him: - Because they tried to make them more accessible. In order to sell more. And it happened. But at the expense of quality. And it happens so with everything now, even with the most elite things. But... Maybe we are at the threshold of a change in this situation.
Me: - Really?
Him: - I do not know for sure. It is difficult to say definitely, when it comes to the future. Anything can happen.
Me: - You are intriguing me.
Him: - Oh ... This is not an intrigue yet. The intrigue is going to start very soon. And I see you as its main performer.
Me: - Haven‘t you forgotten anything? For example, to ask me whether I agree?
Him: - I have not. You will not refuse, I know it for sure.
Me: - You are not going to force me, are you?
Him: - God be with you! Of course, not. You will want to participate. You have already, in fact, began to participate.
Me: - Well, let's see ... Here's your tea.
Him: - Very good. That's right, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Another undoubted advantage of your tea is stability. It tastes the same as that first cup of tea. Kindly send the match, please.
Me: - Here it is.
Him: - Thank you. So ... We stopped at the fact that our expedition got inside and found the temple library. Is this true?
Me: - Yeah, right.
He: - Excellent. The finding even at the initial examination seemed just priceless. We have not been the first who found a similar, as I said, "literature." And delivered it to Europe. However, in such amounts and just a perfect safety ... It was unprecedented. All the "literature" was, it seemed, systematized. That is expanded in a certain order, that could certainly facilitate the work of decoding, translating the texts. But most importantly ... The most important thing above everything else, we found four very strange boxes. They were each on its uh ... something like a low pedestal, something like that height. Each in its own corner of the large hall. The boxes contained plates with the approximate size of a modern exercise book page and thickness of about four millimeters. The text on those plates was the same as on other, conventional plates. But this, as it turned out later, was at first glance. The strangeness of the text was obvious, but we did not notice anything. I will tell more about this later. The main oddity was the material: both the boxes and the plates themselves were made of lightweight and durable material, we did not know then. [...] And the precision of proportions, size and quality of writing did not match the level of technology and the way of letters of that era. Five thousand years ago, the Bronze Age! Much later I realized that the plates and boxes were made of plastic. And then, for us, the people of the nineteenth century, it was some weird stuff. Can you imagine? How many guesses we have built, how many incredible hypotheses we put forward! Not to mention the speculations about the text ... [...] Well, I am focusing on too many details, again. I confess, I have very vivid memories about that expedition. Maybe that's why I speak in detail. That expedition included a tragic part, too, causing not only the loss of some of its members, but as it turned out, far-reaching severe consequences. Actually, if the tragedy had not happen then, I would not be here now.
Me: - Wait a minute; I will toss a few logs. The fire is almost fading.
Him: - Yes, of course... Are you interested? Have I exhausted you with details?
Me: - No, really... You have not. It is very interesting. And what was in the texts?
Him: - Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Yet some of the details are needed.
Me: - I am ready, continue, please.
Him: - So ... as they say, our joy knew no bounds. In addition to the figures, objects of umm.. cult, and everything else, we decided to take out the entire library, too, including the strange boxes. All the clay plates were packed with special care, so as not to damage them during the journey, and strange boxes were put in separate canvas bags. [...] At some point one of the expedition members found the outlines of a passage in the far wall of the large hall. Only the outlines. Apparently, the passage has been bricked up after the construction. The Englishman, who had already become my friend, attempted to break through the clutch, and it yielded a little. It became clear that masonry is not thick. Encouraged by the success, we decided to go further, break through the clutch, hoping to do even more amazing discoveries. [...] Then everyone gathered in the hall. The whole expedition, nine people. The Englishman and uh ... another member of the expedition ... I do not even remember his name ... carefully disassembled the clutch. All the people were waiting to see what was inside... Suddenly the wall cracked, and after a pause, a second, literally... much of the ceiling of the hall collapsed. Sand, tons of sand literally poured from the gap like an avalanche. Four people were killed instantly under the rubble. And it was not possible to dig out the sand, make out a blockage to get the bodies. Only those, who at that moment jumped closer to the exit, survived. It all happened very quickly ... Yeah ... Uh ... What were these details for? They are related to the business the following way. All the packed clay plates were outside, and plastic bags with books were inside, near the exit. The clay books, of course, were not injured. But, as far as our strange books are concerned. there were only two unharmed. One of them was completely destroyed, turned into  small sharp pieces. Another one was damaged partially: almost all the plates had one of the corners split and crushed. Approximately one-third of each plate ... This way, obliquely ... The top plates suffered more, the lower ones - not so much. Well, two books, as I said, remained unharmed. I will omit details of our sorrowful journey home. I can only say something which is relevant: all the clay books arrived home without damages, as for the strange box we brought them in exactly the form in which they were after the crash. [...] Yes, we made it safely to Paris. As for the findings we made a joint decision. It may seem strange, but nevertheless, I will not explain what considerations guided us. Then that solution seemed absolutely right and fair to all the survived members of the expedition. So, the solution was as follows: all the values, and there were many of them, we divided evenly, and the entire library remained in my possession. As for the books we agreed as follows: everyone had equal rights, but they could not be split into pieces. The books remained with me so that I conducted their decoding. And when the translation was ready, I would let the others know about it, and we would make a decision together about what to do with them. It is important to note that at that time many people were engaged in the decoding of such findings, the topic was very popular, and it was clear that the key to the mysterious letters was about to be found. And I had a degree in physics and mathematics, and listened to lectures on archeology of exactly those places where we were. Therefore, I was responsible for the task of decoding.
Me: - It seems we are getting closer to unraveling... and what was in the books? The secret of your longevity? And are you going them to share it with me?
Him: - And you have not lost youthful curiosity and haste. Do not hurry, I'll tell you everything. In detail and right order.
Me: - Well, let it be in detail and order, this is really interesting.
Him: - I did not get a clue about the stuff, written on the plates, although God knows, I had made every possible effort.
Me: - How? Why is this whole story for then?
Him: - I did not found. But a few years later a Frenchman, decoded similar texts. A little later, books with translated texts were even published. To translate our library was a technical matter. And I did it. Two years of hard work. I had some difficulties, when I started to translate the survived strange book. And I had a special approach to their translation, after the acquaintance with the usual clay books. Later, you'll understand why. So, the difficulties appeared to be comical. Remember, I said that the text on the plates seemed to be the same as on the clay?
Me: - Yes. You said that it was just at first glance.
Him: - Exactly. Only at first glance. It turned out that the system, which I used to translate the clay books, was not suitable to the translation of the plates at all. They had very similar but absolutely different signs. I will not intrigue you any more, I will just say that I myself was suffering for two weeks without a slightest hint of the result. Somehow during this time I did not take into account the fact that the text of the clay was pressed, and on the plates it was bulging. Do you understand?
Me: - You mean something like printing clich;? The text should be read in mirroring?
Him: - That's right! Well at least you would have thought a couple of minutes ... I told you that the strangeness of the text was obvious, but I ignored it for as long as two weeks! Can you imagine? And you instantly find the answer. So, I simply made the prints, and a normal text, which the same key as for the texts on the clay plates was suitable for, was in front of me. The translations of the two survived strange books were ready soon. So now the fun part. What was in the books? I'll start with the names. The strange books were called: " Time Prayer", " Power Prayer", " Knowledge Prayer " and " Death Prayer".
Me: - But you said that one of the books had bee broken into small pieces? Did you recover it?
Him: - I wish, my dear friend! I would not be sitting at your place right now! However, I am glad that you have followed the course of my story carefully and critically. Yes, the "Death Prayer" had broken into pieces, and I did not recover it. But this book, among other «Prayers», was mentioned in other clay plates. Actually, the clay plates were a detailed description umm ... what could I say... the governmental system of the people who owned the temple. More precisely, the temple, of course, actually belonged to priests who ruled the people. Well, I think you understand me.
Me: - Yes, of course.
Him: - Besides the plates contained a detailed, if one may put it that way, manual on how to use the books, "Prayers", which were stored in boxes. Strictly for the sake of these instructions, for the accuracy of their transfer, I insisted on recording our conversation. There should be no errors. So, the "Time Prayer" gives immortality, "Power Prayer" gives absolute power over people. The effect of these two books was checked empirically. I will tell you about it. I got the information on two other books only from the clay plates, as I could not restore them. "Knowledge Prayer" should give wisdom to the governor, "Death Prayer", as you should have guessed, should give death, or rather break immortality. Where these plastic clich; came from, how the manuals got into the temple, which was at least five thousand years old, is unknown. Among us, five, there were many hypotheses that had more or less equal rights to life. I will not tell any of them to leave the room for creativity. [...]
Me: - Well forget them, those hypotheses. How do they work, those "Prayers" of yours?
Him: - How the do ... Mhm ... Yes, it is high time to explain how to use text. So, listen up. The clay plates contained a detailed description of both the manufacturing technology of an individual "Prayer" by an impression in the clay plate, and the ritual reading of the finished "Prayer." But all this is ... umm ... husk, dancing with a tambourine, as they say now. Too much, if one can say so, unnecessary layers. I'll show you how we read those "Prayer."
Me: - We?
Him: - Of course. The rights to the book had five members of the expedition. I translated the "Prayer" into Russian, my native language. And produced two more translations: English and French, the native languages of other participants. It is important to note that the English and French translations were made by me from Russian. Luckily I knew those languages very well. The expedition was attended by educated men, intelligent and experienced people, critical of any supernatural nonsense. But for the sake of experiment, and to be honest, for the sake of fun, it was decided to perform the ritual. The instructions were studied and discussed carefully. We followed them, but adapted them to suit our modern uh ... the then realities. Ideally, of course, we had to read the prayers in the native language of the ancients, but then no one knew, and now nobody knows exactly how the language sounded. Especially, after a detailed study of the 'Prayer' texts, it became clear that they contain some numerical codes of the figures from one to nine. This is despite the fact ... [...] So we decided that the language was not important, the figures for all the same. I am sure that the code there was not only digital, but using modern terms, mental. And if the digital one was somehow possible to determine, there were no keys, criteria for the separation of other codes. Next, we stocked up with sets of printing fonts and manufactured printing clich;. So as a result, we had essential analogues of the plastic plates, found in the ancient temple, only translated into modern languages. In accordance with the ancient instructions, the text should be printed on a carrier. In the case of our ancient people they were prints in the clay, but we printed the text on paper with regular ink. And ... It is very important. The printing should be done with a blindfold. No one should have seen a single printed letter before reading the "Prayer". The ancient people did it alone, and simply turned the clay plates with the imprint, and allowed them to dry. In fact, we did just the same: printed the sheets of the "Prayer" on paper blindly and turned the pages.
Me: - But why is it so difficult?
Him: - That is a very timely question. The fact is that the instructions told that if, before reading the prayer someone else had read at least one character from the print, the effect of the prayer could be directed to the one, who read the prayer, or to those who had read this one character, that depends on the choice of the gods. If there were many of those, who also read the signs, after reading the effect will be directed to one of them, again that depends on the choice of the gods. Do you understand? That is, as I understand it, a random selection. An interesting ritual of choosing the high-priest was associated with this feature, I'll talk about this. Next. The instructions included numerous, as I called them, dancing with a tambourine. They can be omitted. It is important to continue that reading of the "Prayer" should have been made alone in a closed room. Although, in the temple, in the hall, where prayers were read and there was an entrance and holes in the walls. But it does not matter. We read our "Prayers" in a simple room with doors and windows in candlelight. And later, in the seventies of the twentieth century, one person read the "Time Prayer" in electric light. So the light source, I'm sure, is not principle. However, it should be noted that we curtained the windows tightly and closed the doors. The prayer is to be read aloud, pausing between the sheets, as it says, "to sigh." That is, the ancient people put their read clay plates aside, sighed, and went to the next one. We were just putting the read sheet, paused and skipped to the next sheet. Then, after reading the "Prayer" the ancient people started to dance again, they thanked the gods verbosely, made sacrifices, much ritual rubbish. We did not. But the important thing here is the following: the carrier of the read "Prayer" must be destroyed. The ancient broke the read plates into small pieces, then ground the pieces up into dust and blew them sky-high. The destruction must be carried out by the person, who has read the "Prayer", and also alone, all by himself. If someone reads the sign after reading the "Prayer", then again, everything depends on the choice of the gods. That is, randomly, like uh ... they say now. We agreed to burn the read sheets. And that what we exactly did. So, we, five members of the expedition, that was me, your humble servant, three Englishmen and a Frenchman in turn made a ritual of reading the "Time Prayer." And, please, cosher me up with another cup of your wonderful tea. Frankly, I have not talked so much for a long time, my throat dries up.
Me: - Yes, of course. So, every man made a copy of the "Time Prayer" for himself, read them aloud, and burned... So what?
Him: - You mean, what did we feel?
Me: - Yes, what changed in you, inside?
Him: - Nothing! Nothing changed. And in my case nothing changes to this day, one hundred and forty years. There is no special feeling, no change, that is absolutely nothing. We were certainly not expecting the thunder of heaven, but were disappointed. Of course, we decided that either this was all nonsense, or there was a mistake somewhere in the organization of the ritual. Although, most likely, the ritual was nonsense.
Me: - I still have many questions.
Him: - Wait a minute. I'll explain everything. Right now make some tea, and I will continue my story. And I will answer your questions. Now, it will be useful to tell you about the ritual of the chief, or high priest, or king selection, whatever.
Me: - Well ... If you think that is right, that will make things clear, continue.
Him: - Yes, I think so. And I will continue with your leave. So. Ancient people, let us call it so, were ruled by six men, six priests, among whom the supreme one was elected. The King. Those six followed umm... some sort of rotation, which meant that the gone priests were replaced by the new priests from among the novices. [...] Here's how it happened. All the six were already immortal at the time of the election, which meant that they had already carried out their "Time Prayer" rituals. With all the wild unnecessary attributes. It does not matter. Then, together, jointly, they performed the "Power Prayer" ritual. The six of them read the single copy of the "Power Prayer". Remember, I said that nobody should have even seen a single character, letter of the unread "Prayer"?
Me: - Of course. Otherwise, the "Prayer" would affect one person, randomly.
Him: - Absolutely. So the "Power Prayer" was read by them together intentionally, and as a result of a joint reading only one of them received, as I said, power over people. The ancients believed that the choice in this case belonged to the gods, though I think it was a lottery, a matter of chance. This one became the king. Unconditionally.
Me: - And how did they know whom the "Power Prayer" affected?
Him: - I do not know. I found no explanation on this subject in the clay plates. Apparently the effect was so obvious that it was not described. Next. [...] He, who was chosen, who became chief, had to make the "Knowledge Prayer" ritual. Now he had to read the "Knowledge Prayer" alone. It is understandable why. The ruler should be wise. We should omit the details. The salt was the fact that the effect of the "Power Prayer" overrode the "Time Prayer". This meant that, the priest, the immortal priest, who was the choice of the gods and obtained power over people, lost his immortality. This did not mean that he had to die immediately, it meant that he began to grow old again, like all normal people. And the ruled the state until his death. After the king had been elected, a new member of the immortal six priests was elected from the novices. How and by what criteria he was elected, I do not know, but it does not matter. The new priest was reading his "Time Prayer" and became immortal. The king ruled. The priests were also engaged in public affairs, they were something like a cabinet of minister. [...] Then, some time later, the king naturally died. After the death of the king they all read "Power Prayer" together again, and a new king, who became mortal, was chosen, and a new member of the six was elected from among the novices and made immortal. That is all, the circle closed up.
Me: - Here is your tea.
He: - Thank you. I hope I have explained clearly? Do you agree, the system is almost perfect?
Me: - Yes, of course. Quite an interesting system. Hmm ... But why, then, the "Prayer of Death" was needed? To kill undesirables?
Him: - No, really ... Why? They killed the disliked, using traditional ways. The "Death Prayer" was needed for immortal priests who were tired of living. It sounds amazing, doesn’t it? However, it is true. Some clerics lived for a very long time, they were not selected for centuries. And each of the six had the right to end his immortality voluntarily. He read the "Death Prayer" and began to grow old like everyone else. In this case, a new member of the immortal six was selected from the number of novices. And then everything went in a circle.
Me: - It is strange ... How is it - "tired of living"? Is this possible?
Him: - It is strange for you. Because you know that you still had twenty to thirty years. That is, if no accidents or other distressing occasion happen. In this case, sorry, you can not see beyond your own noses. And your life is more or less planned for these twenty or thirty years, right? And the last paragraph of this plan, sadly, is your death. It's horrible, but you got used to it and live with it. Even admit the possibility of premature death. Everything happens, we are all in God's hands and so on. For some reasons, people call such a humble attitude about their own death wisdom. Silly… Although there are no choice... Kind of a defensive reaction to the inevitable. Imagine a situation where you know exactly that you will not die in the foreseeable future. Not even get old. You do not have twenty or thirty years, but as much as you need and even more. Your plan is simply ridiculous. What a plan! All your vision, your whole philosophy, everything is not applied. Everything becomes different. And believe me, when you're the only immortal among mortals, dying mortals, you become, among other things, infinitely unbearably lonely. And again, believe me, if I had the "Death Prayer", I would not come to you. I would read it. And would become a normal person.
Pause.
Me: -Do you want me to kill you? Sorry for the inappropriate humor...
Him: - Hmm ... No, of course not. Murder is a sin. Not less than suicide, by the way. Our ancient people had a strange attitude towards that: they did not consider murder to be a grave sin, but suicide was considered the hardest sin. [...] I do not want to impose sins on myself, you or anyone else. Nonsense... I'm here quite for quite a different purpose. The opposite one, I should say. Having nothing to do with death. But in order to go directly to the purpose, I must tell you another story. More precisely, cite some facts from the life of the five members of the expedition, who read the "Time Prayer". You are not tired of listening to me yet, my friend, are you?
Me: - No, really. The things, you're talking about, are extremely interesting. Frankly speaking, your story would not be so interesting if I did not see your wonderful youth in front of me.
Him: - And if you have not examined the documents submitted by me, right?
Me: - Right. If I have not examined your papers. It's amazing. It's unbelievable. Still, my main interest, the main question ...
Him: - ... Again what do I need from you? Sorry for interruption.
Me: - Yes. What do you want from me? More precisely, why do you need me? Frankly, uh ... I have a vague uh ... fear… Nothing concrete... but...
Him: - Stop. Stop being afraid. I swear that I will not subject you to any danger. Moreover... My friend, there is a time for all things. You will learn the purpose of my visit to you quite clearly and specifically. And I'm sure you will enjoy the role I'm going to offer you.
Me: - I hope so...
Him: - Be confident. And yet I must move on to the canvas of my story. After all, I am telling all this not only and not so much for you. Oh, and let's agree on something. After I finish my story, I will answer all your questions. Okay?
Me: - Well, agreed. Continue.
Him: - Excellent. Still, I would not want my story turned into a monotonous monologue, I'm sorry for the tautology. So if something is not clear in the course of the story, feel free to ask clarifying questions. Agreed?
Me: - Yes, of course.
Him: - That's good. I will try to avoid many unnecessary details and I will try to present only the facts that are relevant to the case. And those facts which will help to understand clearly the motives that drive me in this business. [...] So, after a while, a long enough time, by the way, , something about ten years... [...] Some time later all five of us realized that we ceased to grow old. We got together, talked about this ... er amazing condition, tried to understand, argued. Tried to develop some kind of joint plans, decide what we were going to do with the "Prayer". I will not expound the essence of this debate, suggestions, contradictions, and so on. I will just say that in the end we made a joint decision. We decided never to open the secret of our findings to one. We were afraid to take the responsibility for the consequences of immortality that will be available to everyone. [...] Furthermore, we solemnly pledged to each other that no one would ever know about the existence of the "Prayers". Now such oaths are worthless. But then, you can not understand it, a word, given by men, nobles, officers, men of honor bounded us all as good as anchor chains. We also agreed that we would certainly get together in a new expedition, and bring the "Prayers" to the place where we took them. And let the providence decide their fate.
Me: - I'm sorry, but you're here, and tell me about your secrets, breaking you pledge.
Him: - I am no longer bounded by the pledge. I am the one. One out of five. But to tell you the truth, I once broke my pledge even when one a member of the expedition was still alive. In 1972, I secretly made the "Time Prayer" and gave it to a woman to read. I loved her, if it can be considered a mitigating circumstance. I wanted her to be with me forever.
Me: - And what happened to her now?
Him: - To the woman? She is still young and beautiful. And she is still twenty-six. She cheated me. But this story is not relevant.
Me: - I'm sorry.
Him: - Not at all. Time, as you know, is the best healer. And I have plenty of time. Come on.  We did not succeed in having a new expedition for various reasons. Then the First World War happened, during which one of us died.
Me: - So you can be killed?
Him: - Of course. I'm just a living person of flesh and blood, in need of food, sleep, and, excuse me, I go to the toilet. I just do not get old. [...] After the First World War there was a single episode that caused terrible consequences for people. I'm not the only one who broke his pledge for these hundred and forty years. [...] Again, I will not tell how, but translations of two "Prayers" "Time" and "Power", got into the wrong hands. First, they came to Germany and then to Russia. After the First World War, after the revolution of 1917 in Russia the world was in turmoil. Hunger, blood, poverty, senseless brutality, decadence and mysticism. People who undoubtedly had the "Power Prayer" ritual came to power. I do not know yet, how many people then read the "Prayers". Now I'm pretty sure no one is alive. It is likely that they read both "Prayers”, but they did not know that "Power Prayer" overrides "Time Prayer". As a result, Russia did have a situation where umm ... shall we say, an indefinite number of people had the power of the "Power Prayer". Apparently, the effect of this "Prayer" suggests that there can only be one king, and they all fought, like spiders in a jar. In accordance with the principle of natural selection, the best man won. More precisely, the most cunning and toughest one. You know his name, and everyone knows him, I do not want to say it once again. As a result of the slaughter, he destroyed all peers and became the only one. But he feared for life, and hunted for potential rivals to his death in 1953. Because of his fear, he killed lots of people. He was constantly searching, suspecting and killing. Perhaps the consequences of his coming to power would not have been so disastrous if he had personally destroyed the original translation of the "Prayer". But they were gone, vanished in 1930, in spite of the fact that they were carefully guarded. After that, a monstrous wave of repression began in Russia and the original translations surfaced again in Germany, in the same 1930. They got into the hands of a young ambitious Austrian corporal, already desiring to obtain power. It should be noted that he was a great lover of mysticism. You've probably already guessed, his name, but I do not want to say his name, too. As a result, in Europe there were two kings, endowed with the power of the "Power Prayer ". At the beginning they even managed to coexist peacefully. But only one of them had to survive, and the inevitable war happened. Their five-year direct confrontation was the bloodiest one in the human history, you know it. The most cunning and toughest one won.
Me: - You're talking about the Second World War?
Him: - Exactly. In 1934, I managed to steal the original translations of the "Prayers." And make sure there was not a single copy of them. The fact that the Austrian corporal acted wiser than his Georgian counterpart, that is, made sure that nobody apart from him read the "Prayer", facilitated my task greatly. I will not go into details of the operation, I will just say that it cost me huge money, effort, and almost cost my life. [...] I also wanted to kill the corporal, but did not succeed. It was very difficult to get closer to him physically, and he smelled all the conspiracies, organized by me, like a dog and destroyed the plotters ruthlessly. After the disappearance of the "Prayer", he was secretly, but very diligently looking for them, even created a structure that was doing almost exclusively that. But I could always send them the wrong way, and they did not find it. Fortunately... [...] For us, the four eternally young members of the expedition, this war cost two lives. One of us was killed on the grounds that he was a Jew. A stupid accident. I still do not know, under which circumstances the second one died. But the fact that he is not alive is a proven fact. In August, 1946, after Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the two of us decided to return the strange plastic books to the place where we found them during the first expedition. We felt responsible for what happened to Europe and was still happening to Russia. We decided that the very providence should decide the fate of the "Prayer". In the spring of 1947, the "Prayer" was returned to the ancient temple. Moreover, we destroyed all the translations, burned them. All clay plates were turned into dust and the dust was poured into the Seine.
Me: - But you said that in 1972, some woman read the "Time Prayer" and that she is still alive and young.
Him: - Right. I was in love. It was madness. For her sake, for the sake that she was always with me, I got to the ancient temple again, and in fact stole the "Time Prayer." Made a new translation, a clich;... I felt terrible because of the thought that this woman would become old and die, as well as all the previous ones. That at some point, when it becomes evident that I am not getting older, I will have to leave her and our future children, as I did before. That our children will grow old and die, as all the previous ones. You can not get used to the pain that the death of your child, even a quiet death from old age causes. You can not get used to the pain of losing your loved one. So I then decided to steal ... [...]
Me: - And children do not inherit your ... your ...?
Him: - Immortality? Call a spade a spade. No, they do not. This is a proven fact.
Pause.
Me: - How about another cup of tea?
Him: - No, thank you. Let's light up your wonderful cigars. Yes, and where do you have a toilet?
Me – Let me show you the way.
Pause.
Him: - Well, let's continue?
Me: - Let's.
Him: - Excellent. Frankly, I'm at a loss. It is understandable, that it is time to turn directly to the purpose of my visit, but ... I can not find where to start. Perhaps ... Yes. No sentiments. I have lived for one hundred seventy-five years. Only about forty to forty-five of them like a usual, normal person. Like a mortal. All other times I had to hide, hide, to live under assumed names. I learned to live under assumed names quite virtuously, as you saw when viewing the documents. But lately it is becoming more and more problematic. And one can assume that after a fairly short time it will become almost impossible. Now already I, a painfully freedom-loving person, can not go either to Europe or to America. You may well suppose, for which reason. I'm locked up in Russia. And even here I have to be alert. It depresses me. [...] No, not Russia. I am depressed by the state of being trapped, a state of constant danger of being caught with a forged document. Why do I need immortality in prison, for example? And yet that is not my main problem. Loneliness - that's my trouble. Instincts, normal human instincts have not disappeared. I'm young, smart, strong, rich. I want love, family and children. I want friends to communicate with. And look what I get: I fall in love, get married, I have children born. After ten or a maximum of fifteen years, it's clear that I'm not getting old. My loved woman, my wife is getting older, children are growing up, and I remain the same young and strong man. And I have to vanish, then watching the suffering of my beloved wife, as she grows old and dies. How my children are growing, getting old and die. This is monstrous. In the end, it turns out that all this is an illusion, that I create only a semblance of normal life for myself. And worse, I use the love my dear person in order to satisfy those instincts for some. And I feel like I am the worst beast. The same story with my friends. You understand. I have eternal youth, but I am doomed to eternal loneliness, respectively, to eternal suffering. God knows, if the "Death Prayer" survived, I would read it again to become an ordinary mortal. But alas ... I was thinking about a suicide. No, I'm not afraid, believe me. But first, I think this is a terrible sin, perhaps the most severe. Second, it may sound strange, but I love life. It would seem that the simplest solution would be to give eternal youth to loved ones. But I had no right. I had no right to disclose my secret, no right to give eternal youth, even to those whom I loved. I was bounded by the contract. Once again, in the modern system of values the given word does not have the irresistible force, which it used to have for me, a man of the nineteenth century. For me, this word, given by a nobleman, is sacred. And the story of the theft of the "Time Prayer" proves that nothing good will happen, if you break the pledge. But now I'm free from it, from the word, given by me. The last of those who witnessed my pledge, committed suicide about six months ago. The details do not matter here. Am the only one of the five members of the expedition, of the five, who one hundred and fifty years ago, made the "Time Prayer " ritual, who is still alive. The word of a gentleman, given one hundred and fifty years ago, has lost power. And I thought ... If I can not help it, I can not in any way change myself to become an equal among equals, I can change the world. If I can not become mortal, I can do everyone immortal, you know?
Me: - Not yet.
Him: - Well, how? It's very simple. I want to make the "Time Prayer" accessible to all. So that everyone could conduct their own ritual and obtain immortality. If the "Time Prayer" will be available to everyone, it would take time, and when, for example, I see a pretty girl at the bar and get acquainted with her, then fall in love, get married, we wound up children and so on, I'll be sure from the outset that I will not have ten years to disappear. Do you understand? This is for example ... I'll be sure that she is also immortal. I will be an ordinary person, I can live openly, make friends, quarrel with them, marry, divorce, marry again, if necessary. In short, to live an ordinary, normal life. Be an equal among equals.
Me: - I understand. But how?
Him: - I appeal to you for this. I have a plan, and you will help me carry it out. [...]
Me: - But can not you do it by yourself?
Him: - No. I have long lived in isolation from the society, from the real life, in loneliness... I'm not sure that I will succeed. More precisely, in my case there is a too large risk that I will make a mistake being unaware of the elementary modern things. You will be surprised to learn that twelve years ago, you were the last person whom I kept in touch with. During this twelve years I have lived in almost a complete solitude. The world has changed dramatically since then, I fell behind. Far behind. And you are a socially active person, you have your own business, contacts, knowledge of laws, market, technology, and so on.
Me: - So you want to say that ... You want to somehow use my business, contacts and ...
Him: - Stop. I told you before the meeting that I do not want your money. I may repeat it.
Me: - No need. I did not mean it that way. Just please provide me your plan.
Pause.
Him: - Okay. The plan is simple. I will give you the text of the "Time Prayer". You will make a transcription of our conversation, recorded on tape. Once again, I'll detail how to read the "Prayer", so that it has the effect. You can add something of yourself if you wish. All the resulting text, that is, the "Time Prayer" with instructions, is to be issued as a book. That is to negotiate with any publisher. The modern printing technology is almost fully automated, one sees only a cliche, and then not always. And the whole printing process is performed by machines. Remember, I said that it is forbidden for someone to see a single letter of the unread "Prayer"?
Me: - Of course.
Him: - So. Modern technologies allow that. Everything is done by machines, without people's participation. People in the modern printing see only the rolls of paper at the beginning and the result in the end: the printed and sewn book. This fully meets the conditions of the "instructions". There is one "but." We need a guarantee that no one in the storage of finished books, transportation and so on look through a finished book, read a single word. The most reliable option is to sew the book on both sides. Probably, not the whole book, but the very text of the "Prayer". So that the person was able to cut the pages himself and be sure that no one before him opened the "Prayer." I do not know, there may be options. But this condition, the closed "Prayer" text, is to be met.
Me: - So you want me to I start publishing the "Time Prayer"?
Him: - Exactly.
Me: - Okay. And where is the guarantee that the publisher will agree?
Him: - There is no guarantee that any publisher will certainly agree to print the "Prayer." But some will necessarily agree. The idea is too attractive, in modern terms.
Me: - What if people do not believe you?
Him: - You think in your, a short time scale. If the book comes out even in small editions, there will definitely be people who will have the "Time Prayer" ritual. And ten years later it will become evident that the "Prayer" is working. These people will not get old. And it will continue like a snowball. Do you understand me?
Me: - Ten years ... Is not that too long?
Him: - Not too long. I can wait. The thing that I really I have in abundance, is time. And you will also have it more than enough soon.
Me: - What do you mean?
Him: - You can also read the "Prayer." And become immortal.
Me: - Mhm ... My head does not fit.
Him: - It will. This takes time, too. Now tell me, are you ready to help me?
Me: - Wait a minute. I need to think ... Consider ... Because ... Because it is not only my willingness, my desire to help you. This is a huge responsibility. After all, if all men become immortal ... you know ... You know that this is ... a revolution?
Him: - I thought a lot about it. Believe me, I realize that this is, as you say, revolution. Yes, it is a revolution. Everyone is aware that he is not going to die, but will have a long active life. And the foundation of this revolution will be that the value of human life will infinitely increase. Life will become infinite, and therefore priceless. Soldiers will think ten times before going to war. A killer will think ten times before killing, because he will understand that a life sentence is the eternal imprisonment, and the death penalty does not simply take a few decades of life, but the whole eternity. I think that the social relations will change fundamentally. But I am confident that these changes will be ... uh ... positive, humane. Since the basis of the new relations will be the invaluable human life. Haste will disappear. In a hurry people make lots of mistakes. Even such a trifle as the observance of traffic rules, more precisely, the attitudes toward them will change. The price risk is too high. Believe me, I know what I am saying. The expression "after us the deluge" will be meaningless. There is no "after us" there will be a change to the Earth, to the environment. In general, this is a topic for hours of conversation, I'm afraid if we start to develop it now, then we will miss our main topics. And now we think we in different categories, at different scales. If you are interested in this topic, we can later, a dozen years later, when you learn to think more broadly, return to this conversation.
Me: - Okay. And what about overpopulation? After all, people will be born and will not die?
Him: - Overpopulation... People are still very, very far away from a real, critical overpopulation of the planet. This is a matter of centuries, if not millennia. But even if humanity faces this problem at some stage, it will be solved again on the basis of new principles, founded on tthe precious human life. I do not know what solutions it will be, er ... hard to suppose. Wait and see.
Me: - Hmm ... Maybe a lot of small effects. Relatively, of course. For example, the decline of the passenger air transportation. People will be afraid to fly.
Him: - Or the mass closure of mines, the rejection of nuclear energy ... Everything is possible. The price of any risk to life will grow infinitely. Changes will not happen right away, as you know. It's a long, sometimes painful process.
Me: - OK ... Let's say ... But ... I'm sorry, I will skip ... Purely the technological issue. Why not put the "Time Prayer" with the instructions on the Internet? It will be all available at a very short notice. Every man could print it and read it for himself. The necessary way ... How do you think, will it work?
Him: - I do not know. I have not tried. But ... whatever you want! Do it. I do not know what happens. Maybe it will work, maybe not. I told you how it really works. And I told you, what by the instruction provided with the "Prayer" requires. Maybe ... Probably. But I urge you, do not look for the easy way. It may happen that you put the "Prayer" on the Internet and get calm, but the "Prayer", for whatever reason, will not work. And I can not tell you the reason, I do not know. My plan with the printing press, which I suggested, is reliable. I can give a guarantee, my word that, if done correctly, the "Prayer" will work. Although, you know ... In the end it's all the same. As you wish. In case of the open publishing the chance of successful implementation of my ideas still exists.
Me: - I agree. The one does not cancels the other at all. Indeed, over time, when people test the "Prayer", it will become evident that it works.
Pause.
Him: - You know what I would say about this? Do, as you wish. In any case, sooner or later, one way or another, the "Prayer" will be publicly available. You may even sell it. Whatever you like. I have time. More than enough.
Me: - Okay.
Him: - Can I considered this as your consent to participate in my plan?
Pause.
Him: - Do not try to understand now... You will have time. All this is too capacious.
Pause.
Me: - Okay. I agree.
Him: - Excellent. In this case, take a look. These are those strange plates.
Me: - Really strange.
Him: - This is the "Time Prayer". The original version.
Pause.
Me: - Will you leave them for me?
Him: - No way. I am just giving you the opportunity to become acquainted with them. But here is the "Time Prayer" in Russian. Take it. Then read it. Buy several sets of rubber fonts for stamps in the store, such are sold in stationery departments, and make a plate of each page for yourself. And buy some stamp ink. Lubricate every clich; with paint, prepare the paper. Then blindfold yourself and print the pages, one plate per one page. Turn each page and print the next upside. Prepare a metal bowl, and matches. Or a lighter. Then close the room, focus, and read aloud. Starting from the first page. After reading each page turn it upside down, and make a pause. A few seconds. And then the next one. When you read the whole "Prayer", fold the sheets in a bowl and burn them. Make sure that all the paper was burned to the ground. To ashes. That's all.
Me: - Am I am going to be like you? Immortal?
Him: - Yes, like I do. But, strictly speaking, not immortal. I can be killed it in the first place. And secondly, I do not know how long I am going to live in the world. There is nothing about it in the clay plates. I can assume that for a very long time. Centuries ... Perhaps millennia. And possibly even without restriction. I do not know. I also give you the English version of "Prayer." Take it.
Me: - Mhm ... I see ... Tell me ... Have you ever been examined? I mean by the doctor? Noooo... Not in the sense of a psychiatrist, I'm sorry. I'm wondering whether there were any anomalies in your body.
Him: - Of course, I did, I was curious too. And not just once. Last time, however, it was long ago, fifteen years ago in Munich I had a complete examination. No abnormalities. The verdict was almost healthy. But sometimes I get sick. Colds, upset stomach, even a flu, but a very long time ago. So in that sense, nothing special. I just do not get old. I was just about thirty-five years. Permanently. And by the way, I visited a psychiatrist, too. And everything is fine, too.
Me: - I understand. But still ... you told me what to do with the "Prayer." Well, so that it works. And what will people have to do with the book? If it is published...
Him: - No "if." It happens. Everything is the same: to prepare everything for burning the book, cut the pages blindfolded, shut in a room alone. Then read the "Prayer" out loud as I told you, that is, each page separately after a pause. Then burn the book down.
Me: - And what to do with the ashes?
Him: - Anything. You can eat it, you can wash it down the toilet. I am sure that it does not matter. The important thing is that after you read it or no one read a single letter from you "Prayer". The ancient instructions stated that the clay reprints needed to be destroyed to dust and blown sky-high. We burned our "Prayers" to ashes and the ashes and poured it out from the window. It's like the wind dispels it. Is everything okay?
Me: - It seems so. I have another question.
Him: - Certainly.
H: - Why would you ... After all, the "Prayer" ... How is it called?… The "Power Prayer". After all, the "Power Prayer" as you say, overrides the "Time Prayer", right?
Him: - Right.
Me: - So why do not you have the "Power Prayer" ritual in order to start to get old again? After all, you could do it during the Second World War, when they wanted to kill er ...
Him: - The Austrian corporal?
Me: - Yes.
He said: - I understand. I could not and can not pass the ritual of the "Power Prayer", I do not have the right. Of course, it looks like it is logical. But. If I had used the "Power Prayer" to kill the Austrian, I would have killed him of course. But I'm sure that I would have taken his place. And the world would have got even a more terrible monster in my person. Without false modesty, I'm smarter and mre cunning than either of those kings together. And under the "Power Prayer" I'd have become much more violent than they were. No. The ancients were right. You can not be king without the "Knowledge Prayer". Now I have no right to read the "Power Prayer" for the same reasons. It is impossible.
Pause.
Me: - There is porridge in my head ... It seems I have a lot to ask, but do not even know where to start. I should somehow make sense ... Put it in my head.
Him: - Try it. In ten or fifteen years, you will do it, I promise you.
Me: - Are you kidding? ...
Him: - Yes and no. Anyway, I'll contact you occasionally to see how things are going. And if you have any questions - I will certainly answer them. Now let's summarize.
Me: - Come on.
Him: - So, we have agreed on the following. You will make a recording transcription, write something on our own. Do whatever you wish with the resulting text. Issue as a book, if you like. Or put on the Internet. I have described all the rules in detail. It is important that you undertake to distribute the "Time Payer” any way you like. Is that all?
Me: - Yes, seems like all.
Him: Then I have a question. Do you understand how to use the "Prayer Time"?
Me: - Yes, everything is clear.
He: - No clarification is needed?
Me: - It seems so. I do clich;s printed on paper with a blindfold, turning each sheet face down. Then I read the "Prayer" alone aloud, with pauses between pages. The read page should be turned face down. After reading the paper I should burn it to the ground. Get rid of it. Is this true?
Him: - Yes, exactly. Then, as for the record. Deal with the book the following way: cut the pages of the "Time Prayer " blindfolded and tightly close the book, so that you do not accidentally read a letter from the "Prayer" before the beginning of the ritual. Further, as you said, read it aloud alone, with pauses between pages. Turn the read the page. After reading burn everything.
Pause.
Him: - This record can be stopped. What do you think?
Me: - Wait a minute ...
Him: - Yes, I am listening to you.
Me: - You said that the ancient, and each of you produced our own umm ... personal "Prayer." Would it not be a violation of the ritual to making "Prayer" with machines?
Him: - Good question. I have the answer with proof. The way, as you said, the personal "Prayer" is made, does not matter. Just like who or what it is made byr. I am absolutely sure. In 1972r I personally made the "Prayer" for another person, and the "Prayer" worked. [...] So it makes no difference. Is that all?
Pause.
Me: - You should know better. If you have nothing more to tell...
Him: - Well, my dear friend. I turn it off.

The end of the transcription.

My guest turned off the tape recorder. We were silent for another five minutes. He then said he needed time to edit the resulting record. Editing took quite some time. Some of the parts were auditioned by him several times, nodding with satisfaction, some were erased washed. I tried to talk to him, but he gestured at me, asking not to interfere. While he was busy with the record, I carefully examined him, looking for the signs of insanity. He did not look like a madman. He looked like twelve years ago, a healthy, strong, clever man.
I would have much to ask him, I was counting on the conversation to be continued. But my guest, giving up tea and a cigar, called a taxi. We had about five minutes. I do not remember what we talked about during those five minutes. Maybe even the weather. I asked him what to do with the end of the world in 2012. He laughed and said that he did not know yet, would say in 2012. Then he apologized for the unfunny joke. When the door closed behind him, I saw that the taxi waiting at my gate on the monitor. He was gone.