Голоса блокчейна

– Ну, это просто потому что я… – Мансур пытался найти слова, чтобы оправдаться и доказать, что он не импотент, но Маргарэт, смеясь, воскликнула:

– А я отключила своего робота два года назад! Думала, я одна на всей планете такая ненормальная!

Мансур снова схватил её и поцеловал.

– Пойдём! – сказал он. – У меня, конечно, не бело-золотой уровень, но есть мягкая широкая постель!

– Нет! – игриво отозвалась Маргарэт. – Никакой постели! Говоришь, на нижнем уровне нет видеонаблюдения? В переулок!!

Схватив его за ворот пальто, Маргарэт с решительностью спортсменки, настроенной на победу, потащила последнего и единственного писателя Земли в темноту.

The person needs the person

He went past the sign of the retro-cafe «XX century», which neon lights went off a long time ago, delayed for a second, looking into an ancient advertising poster with a funny slogan – and headed further down the street, to the center of the city. High above his head, almost silently fly-mobiles passed by.

People long since did not need to walk – except on a fitness club track. Yet, Mansour loved such lonely novelty walks.

Suddenly an unexpected presence violated the usual landscape of a deserted street. Mansour didn’t understand what happened immediately. There was just something wrong with the surrounding landscape; some movement ahead – not a hologram or a fly-mobile, but a person!

Bewildered, Mansour stopped and for a few seconds could not gather his thoughts.

In these moments, he had to reconfigure his perception. Only then, he allowed himself to believe that another person could walk through the empty streets of the lower level… only then the object ahead acquired a clear outline.

A woman. In a long luxurious coat and in high heel boots of an ancient style – made on order. Deep down inside, Mansour had an appreciation of foot fetishism. While in virtual reality, he often ordered himself similar female images. Was it a hallucination? No, she had a bouquet of yellow flowers in her hands.

He wouldn’t have imagined it even in a nightmare.

The stranger turned to the cross street. Her gait was firm. When she noticed Mansour, she didn’t look disturbed, but rather annoyed. Struck not so much by her beauty, but by the extraordinary loneliness in her eyes, Mansour followed her like a piece of metal behind a strong magnet.

For a couple of minutes, they walked silently.