Oh, human, there is no mystery darker than you.
Aurobindo Ghosh.
- All islands of natural formation have been sold out long ago. In most cases, customers are offered artificial floating platforms covered with ground and a couple of palm trees from special greenhouses. The next step is designers’ job, for any taste. Some prefer hills; others look for jungles and still others order a lake with fresh water. Whatever they want. These are, so to speak, the details. But you are a special client, and a genuine island, completely uninhabited, has been kept for you. The location is incredible: no planes, no war games, no expeditions. We discovered it absolutely by chance.
- That's what I'm paying for, Lance. Complete confidentiality. Not a single word either to my wife, or to the Lord God himself. I've been dreaming about it for too long.
- Surely, Mr Golds. Would you like to have a look at the photos?
- I’ll take this island without looking. I completely rely on your reputation, thank God, for so many years you have never screwed up, let there be surprise. I'm flying out immediately.
- Here are the papers. Cash, as usual?
***
The island was large, mountainous and whole overgrown with dense jungle. The birds' squawks harassed not used to. There were no large animals in sight. Only glanced at the local flora and fauna, Max found a suitable place for his new home.
The workers unloaded the prefabricated house and quickly installed it in a shady beach next to a hill with a small waterfall. All necessary domestic utensils were put in place. Then, at the businessman's insistence, electronic benefits of civilization were left in his car, including his Smart Watch.
He waved to the departing group, absentmindedly patting his empty pockets. Then, he breathed in full lungs of freedom and went to chop wood.
Max felt as if he had died after an incurable long-term illness with the terrible name "business" and finally found himself in Paradise. He was the first man, Adam, who left his sinful Eve on Earth with numerous relatives and a bitten core of forbidden fruit in the refrigerator.
He didn't need anyone. He went into the sea, as if in Oblivion, to forget his former life, to erase the calluses of names and faces, to drown the memory of the nightmare of civilization with its tombstones - buildings of identical cities.
Having been born again, Max shook off forty years of fuss, becoming a child who admired the flight of birds and the starry sky. He relished the silence and the consciousness of complete freedom.
In the evening, after long swimming in the warm sea, he ate his dinner greedily and nestled down in his bed under the roof, looking at the Milky Way through a mosquito net.
The morning was filled with pleasant activities: planting corn, setting fishnets, cooking bouillabaisse and baking bread in a round stone oven on open fire. Sometimes Max was afraid to wake up from a phone ring or his wife's voice, but he soon got used to island's whispers, its lullabies and fairy tales.
The new owner eagerly examined his possessions, happily discovering new surprises: a flexible vine for a basket, thickets of sugar cane or smooth bamboo.
Only once Max went to the sea shore and froze at the sight that squeezed his heart: the white sand was covered with the remains of heavy machinery, rusted and twisted. A strip of ragged barbed wire stretched along the edge of the sea. The bizarre pile of metal made the shore look like another planet, lost, but not given into the greedy hands of people.
Fortunately, he didn't have nightmares any more.
A week later almost the entire island was explored. Max saved "for last" the tall hill next to his house, buried in greenery, from the top of which the waterfall flowed.
He imagined a cave painted with amazing figures of hunters chasing a mammoth at the very top of the hill.
Or it might be terrified bats sonar and their small bodies darting like black arrows in the darkness.
Sometimes in his dreams Max saw the greenish eyes of a beast or the yellowed skeleton of a dragon deep inside a cave.
Finally, he made up his mind. Taking a homemade spear, Max went to the very top of the hill, which gave him fresh water.
But wild grapes and thick vines blocked his way. So he quickly got tired, fighting with stubborn thickets. Strange thorns, which he had never seen before, stung with thorns forked at their ends. Max realized that without a machete he would not be able to move further, and, slightly angry, turned back.
It took him several days before he climbed to the very top.
There he sat down wearily on a small ledge. From the top there was a wonderful view of the whole island. Max dreamed how he would lay a wide path here, put up an awning, attach a hammock and lie swaying in the wind, enjoying the scenery. Perhaps he’ll bring here a chessboard with an unfinished game and will slowly reflect on the next move.
Suddenly a forgotten sense of discomfort made him fidget on the ledge. So Max got up and looked at the wide stone that he used as a stool. The stone turned out to be a trapdoor. Max felt cold.
Lance swore that the island was uninhabited and had a natural origin.
Terminate the contract? Change the island? No, he's already used to it.
Max was thinking intensely. After a few minutes, he began feverishly unscrewing the hatch cover. The trapdoor creaked open.
The emerged cave was a fantastic one. The entire interior space was filled with the most sophisticated equipment. Max didn't even understand what field of science the appliance could belong to. In the depths, he noticed an apparatus pumping seawater into filters and pushing out fresh water after a complex multi-level purification. A long chain of devices led to a human-sized reservoir. There was a sign on it: "The perfect human".
Max sat down in a comfortable armchair and cupped his forehead in his hands. A huge black screen was in front of him, an immense remote control contained many buttons, toggle switches and levers.
An autonomous power station supplied the pump with electricity.
He banged his fist on the console and went out into the fresh air. Then Max carefully screwed down the hatch cover and went back to the house.
There he brewed strong coffee and collapsed on his bed. He was grimly depressed. The thought of having to contact Lance urgently, touching the phone again, putting on a suit, seeing ingratiating faces, was unbearable. But it was also impossible to live near the laboratory, knowing that water flows through hoses, pushed by electric pistons.
After agonizing thought, Max decided to forget about his discovery, plunging where the action was, doing the hardest work.
So day after day, he stubbornly went to the sea shore in all weathers and spent hours picking out heavy wet nets. Though he had enough dried fish for a whole year. Max hurt his hands, but the pain only sharpened his stubbornness.
But at night Max could not hide from himself. Íå became obsessed with the idea of a perfect assistant, a faithful friend, an interesting interlocutor, as soon as the darkness thickened around him. Not an ingratiating servant, not a companion suffocating with envy, not a brainless secretary. But equal, intelligent, calm, positive person who he could rely on. More than that: an honest chess player and an inveterate lover of fishing. In a word, an Ideal.
One day, he gave up. Furiously chopping the stems, Max rushed to the top and opened the hatch. He turned on the power at the maximum and stared at the screen.
"Enter the download parameters". Green letters danced before his eyes. "Physical style: appearance, diet, physical shape, personal hygiene." Max thought a few minutes, then typed: strong, omnivorous, sporty, clean. "Emotional style: attitude to love, attitude to you, sensitivity, perception of relationships." Max shifted in his armchair, then entered: calm, loyal. "Social style: character traits". Witty, positive, practical. "Intelligence". Well-educated, well read, inquisitive. "Sex." A dash. "Communication style". Clearly expresses his thoughts, is able to listen, empathize.
Max leaned back in the armchair, rereading the characteristics. He had a headache. He clicked "save" and went out into the fresh air.
He couldn't sleep at night, thinking about his ideal friend. A lot of tiny but important details had to be expressed in one capacious word. So he tossed and turned until the morning.
After a cup of strong coffee, Max rushed upstairs. And again, several hours of torment annoyed and tired him. However, after studying the program, he realized that he had the right to make a mistake. Each "ideal" person initially existed for three days, if there was no confirmation, the sample self-destructed.
"Profession, finance". A dash. "Self-improvement". Assesses his shortcomings. Actively changes. "Spiritual style". Respects the opinion of others. Did he believe in God? Max didn't know. But he didn't want a fanatic. "Hobby". Fishing. Chess. It somehow was not enough. Travelling? No, if he wanted to leave, he would spoil everything. It sounded boring: fishing, chess and nothing more.
Max changed the parameters every day without noticing the passage of time. Sometimes he would fall asleep in the armchair and wake up with pain back. He got fatter, grew stubble, ate pieces dry.
The house looked slovenly. The furniture was covered with dust. And ants were running around on the floor, attracted by crumbs as impudent mongooses that were messing around in the trash.
The first «ideal person» left the laboratory at sunset three months later. His appearance was unremarkable. He exuded friendliness, played chess perfectly and fished in any weather. Three days later, he threw himself into the sea from a cliff at the far end of the island. His body was gone. The only loss was jeans and a T - shirt.
Max sat down at the computer again. His hair reached to his shoulders, his T-shirt had lost its shape and color, but his fingers became nimble again, quickly lying down on the right key. "Does always, quite often, sometimes, infrequently, rarely".
"Physical style". Well built, has thick dark hair, brown eyes. Eats healthy food. Swims well. Dressed neatly.
It sounded nice. "Emotions". Calm, serious… But something was wrong again. Interested in art. What kind of art was there? Likes reading. What? The newspaper Commersant in which the glasses were wrapped? Philosophizes on any topic. Nonsense. Max was arguing in his head.
The second person was somewhat confused; his movements were disrupted, as if he tried to move in all directions at once. He was calm, determined and honest, and jumped off the same cliff.
Max was sorrowful. Only one phrase, which was written by some Russian, was popping in his head: "It's hard to be God."
He took the rusty key, opened the ancient fireproof safe with the inscription "YES". Ye Extraordinary Situation. He took out a bottle of gin and a pack of cigarettes.
A couple of hours later, he returned to the lab. "Physical style". Long hair, sensual bust, plump lips, slightly slanted eyes. Strong relief buttocks, to be honest, ass. Slender legs.
Max was broken through. His fingers moved over the keyboard.
In the afternoon, she opened the door of the laboratory, holding a tray with fresh coffee and sandwiches.
The house had already been put in order. The linen was washed and dried. Pillows and mattresses were ventilated in the sun.
She cut the ripe fruit into thin slices into a salad, serving it with freshly squeezed orange juice.
An unshaven, balding man was sleeping soundly in his armchair. His hairy belly was seen under a dirty T-shirt, worn to holes. An empty bottle sat on the consol in front of him. The smell was overwhelming. Gray baggy clothes hardly covered his obese body.
She absently put down the tray. She had to love him. But the voice of reason resisted it.
The girl quickly studied the situation, because she was programmed for the highest IQ. She typed in "confirm." Then she looked thoughtfully at the fat man and began to enter parameters.
Max woke up by the smell of coffee and fell on his food greedily. Stretching, he went out into the air, yawning and squinting from the sun.
There was a man sitting on a clean veranda of the house. He was an exact copy of Max, or rather, a caricature of him. The man was plump and unshaven, with bags under his eyes and an unkind feverish look. His evil face didn't seem to be able to smile. The thin lips were tightly closed. The doppelganger instantly enraged Max. If that was a joke, then the joker would pay for it. No one dared to joke with Golds. The man looked at him warily with hostility.
Max's hand reached for his homemade spear, his doppelganger unhurriedly took out a machete. Max jumped out of the house, his double rushed after him. A life-and-death struggle ensued. Their shadows darted along the shore, the sound of crossed metal echoed across the island. The rivals were equal.
The girl entered the kitchen with a pile of clean laundry in her hands. She began ironing, carefully straightening each fold. After putting the laundry on the shelves, she went to get water and began to cook dinner. How many persons for? She looked out the window. Two full, bloody bodies were slowly being carried away by the tide. The girl sighed and went to the laboratory.
She was sexy, calm, hardworking and practical. After wiping the dirty control panel, removing the empty dishes and airing, she sat down in the armchair and entered the parameters.
He came down to dinner. They chatted and laughed. They had a good time together. They washed the dishes together and left to wander around the island, hand in hand, until the Sun went down.