I tried to knock at the cafe window. No one seemed to be there too. I got no answer. But after several minutes more, I tried again. And that time, a person appeared. I mean a guy from a cafe. I tried to order some coffee. He tried to persuade me that they don’t serve anything until they open. Rules, you know. I argued a little. And after some few attempts, I achieved success. The cafe guy managed to bring me some coffee in a plastic mug.
I decided it was enough. I finish the coffee, I go home, and the joke is over. I finished but hesitated. Maybe the coffee was really good, and I asked for one more cup. It took some time. I drank this second one. And at that moment I was positive about going back home to have some nap.
I went in the direction to a bus stop. And then when I turned to another street and started walking in another direction, I suddenly recognized something strange with a corner of my eye. I turned back. And I saw that there was a strangely dressed person. It wasn’t an absolutely strange suit, but… He wore the gray coat and gray hat. The hat covered most of his face with a shadow.
I made a few unsure steps toward him. I stood there and almost tried to talk. I waited that he would talk first, probably. But instead… He just produced a wrap from under his coat. He held the folder in his hand for a while. I hesitated and then slowly I took the wrap from him. In all this mist he looked really like… Mr. Shadow. Like a guy from the comics strip who could be both the good and the evil. He didn’t say anything. He just made a silence gesture. He crossed a lower part of his face with his index finger. And I didn’t see his face. Just a sign of silence.
And in a mist, he was swept away by his quick sportsman-like stride. Now I am thinking about all this, and I don’t know what it really means to me.
It’s time to unwrap the mystery.
Oct, 30. Private Audio Diary of Elise. by Elise
Last night I had a strange dream. There was nothing strange about the images I received in it, but there was something strange about a feeling I had in it. And when I woke up, I felt uneasy for a while. I stood in the endless field of strawberries. Sun was high, the sky was blue, and there was nothing as the eye could see but strawberries. I felt I wanted to taste them. I reached out for the strawberries and took one. And then put it into my mouth. But that berry was tasteless. Disappointed, I took another one, but it also had no sweetness and no taste at all. Then suddenly, I understood that I was standing there in this endless field of strawberries being nude. I had no clothes on me and didn’t feel shame. And for an instant, I felt like I wanted it. And then the dream was over.
When I woke up, I wondered what my subconsciousness wanted to tell me. And is there any message to be read or it’s just another strange dream? My first thought was to take a morning shower. That had to be refreshing. I took my pajamas and my underwear off. Then I wondered why I did it in the bedroom, but not in the bathroom. For a couple of seconds or so, I stood undressed there, feeling myself like when meditating and then directed to the bathroom’s door. And the shower was refreshing and nice indeed. I felt like I entirely woke up after that.
Last evening Martin called me and told me he would be off the studio, said he would work in the field probably. And so, I arrived at the studio when it was past eleven o’clock. I spent some time sorting some useful files containing some useful information from folder to folder and ate another sandwich. After one and a half hour work, I decided that I would give myself a day vacation and maybe while walking through the city I would find a couple of new ideas for a new doc project nesting in my mind.
I went to a cinema to watch some rather mediocre but rather bearable Hollywood’s blockbuster. And also I entertained myself with a walk through the park and made some little shopping, as little money in my possession does not permit me more. That was not so freaking great, but that was not the worst day of my life. At home, I spent my day’s rest usually. A little of TV, some food, and some book. Right now I almost forgot to put my pajamas on. I wish myself the nice dreams.
Night, October 30. Going to bed, end of a line.
Oct, 30. from Dictaphone Record. by Martin
As I woke up this day, I tried to prolong my late morning activities as much as possible. Maybe it was subconscious. Because as soon as I finished my breakfast and tooth brushing, I was supposed to face the dangerous wrap containing I did not know what. What if inside there was some bomb mechanism hidden? And there was indeed a bomb of some kind. And there is not a thing in the world that can stop a modern journalist from being curious. Or better say sensational. In my view, a modern journalist is always a greedy person. It is just a kind of greed that differs. A dishonest journalist is greedy for money, and honest is greedy for information. Maybe, being honest means choosing priorities and holding back some of your desires, most of all.
When the time comes to do it, all you can is to do it. I took the wrap. Opened it. Inside there was no bomb. Indeed there was one. But it was made of data explosive.
Inside it, there was a big envelope with a word Instructions printed on it in big letters in its center. And below it, in little letters, there was a recommendation. You better follow this. I took the envelope and saw that it was lying on the top of many other envelopes of smaller size. I tore the instructions envelope and inside I found a couple of pages with what indeed happened to be instructions on how I should receive the information. And it also said what can happen to me if I don’t do it in a recommended way. I don’t want to say what it was supposed to happen to me if I do it deliberately and without following the instructions, but the rest of it, in general, consisted of the order in which I should open an envelope after an envelope. And it actually said that I should not go to the next stage until I am not done completely with the current information from a current envelope. So, each envelope bore the number and sometimes a title too. I found one with the digit one printed on it. I tore it and inside I found nothing but the USB flash drive. I tapped some other envelopes, and it looked like inside there was also nothing but the similar flash drive sticks.
Well, that should be a little container for big secrets. What was there? I thought maybe there was some unbeatable computer virus which would kill my laptop’s digital sanity in a second as soon as I only launch the flash drive, no matter how strong my protection is. But the real virus of my life is not a digital one, but the virus of journalist’s curiosity. What am I in this game? Am I a cat or a mouse in it? And do you remember what killed the cat actually?
As I plugged a dangerous flash drive in, I was sitting and gazing at the window on my monitor like being paralyzed for a minute or so. In total there were two files. One was the text file and one – a video. The text file consisted of instructions about what I should do first. And one of the first things was about an interview with some girl. Her full contact information and address were listed in the file. And if to talk about the video file, I think that is such a thing about which it would be completely true to say that seeing is believing, because that is the thing which is hard to describe in plain words. Well, in general, I would say the video consisted of some sort of secretly made records that were full of… well… They were full of sex.
Some Notes on the Subject of Prostitution. from Dictaphone Record. by Martin
Prostitution is a kind of human activity that is historically coined as the oldest profession in the world. But it is also true that many people still consider this activity to be absolutely unsuitable for the normal society. Many consider that thing should be out of decent society. They would prefer this profession to be in the shadow of the gray sector’s economy. To be a dark part of social life. This opinion survives our days, when in many European countries – and around the world too – the prostitution gained legal status. And at the same time when almost no one is concerned about existence and global flourishing of the commercial porn industry. That is possible to note that in between the porn production and the prostitution there is a huge difference. At least that is what many people do believe. But is it really so? At least is it such