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A couple of years ago, an Angel was finally brought to us. Too much too fast. I, who had been dreaming about this for centuries, somehow did not even understand what had happened for the first months. A cargo module the size of our entire asteroid had parked at the nearest Lagrange point of our black hole. Then a huge portal opened there. I have not seen such in my entire immortal life. By the way, we share the perception of life before and after immortality, but this is a topic for another record. The fact that the Angel was brought became clear when this monstrous fork-like something began to appear from the shimmering veil of the portal. For three months he just got out of there. Yes, not by himself, it was clear from the satellite that he was being pulled by a lot of small modules with a spatial engine. And since then, he has been flying to the launcher from the porting site for a couple of years. I forgot about it, but today he arrived.
How huge he turned out to be. I think that if his body had participated in the gravitational interaction, then we would have just been flattened into him here, and then blown into the Baby. But the nature of Angels is difficult to understand and accept. The technology dates back to Earth. There people learned to move consciousness to higher dimensions. Consciousness turned out to be like gas and occupied all the free space that the multidimensional mind allowed. Some scientists, on the contrary, believed that everything is consciousness and we only discover its forms, which is why it is so easy and mastered on any multidimensional medium. But I don't know it all, tried to read, tried all these pamphlets for the advanced. Couldn't.
Angels were once people who connected themselves to nanoset AI. And here he is hanging in front of me. Many stages of evolution ahead. And it looks like we got a silent one. The most common type. It is very rare after the transformation for Angel to remember how to communicate in our reduced space. He can in his multidimensiality with a million bodies project himself into any reality. And he forgets how to talk to us. It's like forgetting where you put your cigarettes. With cigarettes, you can go and print them, but it seems difficult to print a newly stripped-down human consciousness for yourself. Scientists say that the whole difference is in the perception of time, it exists here in a linear axis, but he can't even understand that he needs to get to some imaginary moment.
I tried to approach him, to shout. I thought it was necessary to remove Ivanova from orbit, where I threw the Admiral 10 years ago by mistake. But a worker from WowSpace gave me papers, asked me to look at each of them and said, leaving: “Yes, this one is silent, forget it.” That's what I called him – the Silent One.
I didn't give up my attempts. But I’ve noticed a strange thing. Every time I’ve accumulated enough anger, I went out to the landing pad, frowned, growled, and then found myself at my desk sorting out cases, or at other useful work that I have been putting off for a long time. And so it lasted for quite a period. Until I finally figured out a trick.
We have an Auto Bar on asteroid, where you can come, well, and pass out properly. Alkaloids are there or not, I honestly don't know, but it hits well, for two hours and immediately crumbles 2-3 million neural connections into porridge. An imprint from the 5th dimension certainly restores everything quickly, but there is a short period when you partially disconnect your head from it. And my trick worked. I reached the Silent One this time without any problems.
“Well, you extradiculous douchergheist! Couldn't fool me?!” I shouted to the Angel, who spread his three-dimensional projection along the edge of the sky. I swung and threw a bottle with the remnants of the printed swill at him. The bottle got stuck in the gravity cocoon and vibrated, making an unpleasant glass screech.
“All you want freaks is to mock us simple immortals. Do you think I didn't realize that you were manipulating me, you multidimensional joke of a puppet master!” I boomed, unbuttoned my pants and showed the Angel my ass.
“Impressive,” came from the sky.
I even sat down.
"Ah—ha-ha, you look great.”
I got up slowly and pulled on my pants.
“The main thing, damn, it worked,” I shouted, zipping my fly and turned around.
From the far side of the asteroid, behind the gravity cocoon, a man in a white short-sleeve shirt and gray linen pants was approaching me. He easily crossed the border next to the bottle, took it out, opened it and sniffed the contents.
“Well, it's rubbish,” he grimaced, “but, damn, it worked, there's nothing you can do about it. How did you guess?”
“There was this one tv series, back on Earth,” I chuckled, watching the stranger who sat down on the “evacuation” box, “And you, it turns out, are not silent at all.”
“Yes, none of us are silent, just not everyone wants to talk. Too much attention should be paid to this incarnation. You have a very dense universe.”
“You have. Aren't you from here? Have you already forgotten where your mom gave birth to you?”
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“We're not all from here.”
“You don't give me your transcendental nonsense, but rather take Ivanova out of orbit.”
“And why do you need it?” he looked me straight in the eye.
I was confused at first, and then I growled in response:
“Why? How long does she have to hang out there?”
“You're sitting here, on the launcher, taking care, worrying about the pioneers, helped Khton, this hair collection, Admiral Ivanova… And that's not what you need.”
"And what do you think I need?" I frowned, feeling that I was getting sober, and how he was taking control of me.
“You need to jump.”
I was taken aback, and then I noticed that I was walking back to the office.
“Take off Ivanova," I whispered with my mouth hardly obeying.
But I didn't hear an answer, and I found myself back in the office, serving a queue of immortals who had accumulated during the day, ready to jump into a black hole to finally part with a tired life.
After the shift, I went into the office, and there I found an “evacuation” box with Admiral Priscilla Ivanova standing vertically in front of my desk. The woman's eyes were fixed. The petrified expression on her face with a mask of horror caused his knees to tremble.
I dragged the box to the wall, sat down at the table, arranged the cases to subdimensions, but then I got up, walked over to the Admiral and turned her around to face the wall. It was simply impossible to look at her any further.
At that very moment, the door opened and the launch site manager appeared on the threshold. No, not me, but the one I've been replacing for so many years. He was back.
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