Голоса блокчейна

And those, for whom it’s not enough to have a bed in a small room and minimal nutrients from protein bars – engage in quests and receive rewards. Scientists who have been able to invent something that AI has not thought of, or those who have set interesting tasks for it, receive the gold level. You want to eat delicious feed – develop yourself. Yet, the essence of the novel is not in that; I just stated the obvious. The essence for me is in the everyday scenes; in which way my characters travel to work using the transport of that era, in how they walk near ponds – real, not holographic… how they are taking pictures of scary wild birds ready to fly at any moment.

Margaret approached her face to Mansour and looked at him intently. Mansour realized that he had to do something now… but what? Not being able to come up with anything better, he hugged her firmly and kissed her on the lips.

«It was beautiful», Margaret said quietly a couple of minutes later when they interrupted the kiss to take a breath.

«Ehm… I am ashamed to admit that I turned my sex robot off a year ago», Mansour said.

Margaret laughed loud once more.

«Well, it is simply since I…» Mansour tried to find words to justify and prove that he has no problem with potency, but Margaret, laughingly, exclaimed:

«I turned my robot off two years ago and thought I was the only one on the entire planet who is that crazy!»

Mansour hugged her again and kissed her.

«Let’s go!» he said. «I certainly don’t have a white-gold level, but my bed is soft and wide!»

«No!» Margarethe said playfully. «No bed! Didn’t you say there’s no CCTV on the lower level? To the alley!!»

Having grabbed him by the coat collar, with the determination of the athlete, psyched for a victory, Margaret dragged the last and only writer of the Earth into the darkness.

Для Lindsay

На проекте Golos у меня есть муза под ником Lindsay. Чудесная талантливая девушка, мы дружим. Несколько рассказов я написал для неё.

Мои несладкие пятнадцать

Недавно полученный паспорт утверждает, что меня зовут Пётр Чернышов, и мне пятнадцать лет. Сейчас я зависаю в офисе фирмочки, гордо называющей себя «агентством торжеств», потому что у меня летние каникулы, и мать не хочет, чтобы я болтался без дела.