Anatoli Babenia
30 min readMay 10, 2017


In a couple of weeks there will be my 35th birthday. I am not full of regret,
because it was all my choice, but looking at this, and knowing that for many
people this is far from American Dream, I still need to explain. Because I
believe I am not alone.

I am not alone man in 35th living with his parents, without his own house,
girlfriend, children or even savings. I am thankful for this beautiful day -
a birthday — that helps to reaccess where are you are and where are you

Just a couple of weeks ago I missed a birthday of my best friend (and I’ve
got a lot of friends), because I didn’t have any money and didn’t want to
spoil the party. I believe that I can earn money pretty fast, but the truth
is that I write “I” too many times in every sentence. So I decided to give up
on my pride, ideas authorship, dreams and prospects for selling something to
someone, and just share everything that piled up in my head so far with the
World. With you.

First I need to have some confession. Please forgive me for that. I already
told you enough to close this post and never open it again, but you should
really see what an egocentric person am I and how I think to understand why I
have no money.

I was born on 7th June 1982. It started at midnight, there was a storm over a
small city in a middle of Belarussian land of swamps — Polesye. And at 12am
it was officially over. A week ago an unknown girl who just returned from
Thailand (where I was about four months ago) catched me on some boring, but
overcrowded event about paying taxes in IT. She didn’t just catched me — it
was like in some secret agent movie — a super charismatic girl starts to
speak with a computer guy, then hugs him while taking a photo at event, and
and few hours later they were sitting together for a dinner at the local

Did I mention that I had no money? I had to pull everything from my pockets
to cover the bill. We paid separately. She called her friends and left the
guy on one of two motorcycles that came after her. The evening was over and I
didn’t call back. Should I feel like a loser? In the past I did, so this time
I tried to control my emotions. The good thing of being complete loser
without money, without saving, without job, without house, and living with
your parents is that you can not lose anything. I feel calm and peaceful
while writing this. Previously writing this would get me off balance into the
dark side of negative emotions, swirl of self destruction and poison of sweet
melancholy. But because I so obsessed with myself, and I can not poison
myself anymore, I start to poison other people. And this is where I need to
stop. There is no fun in coloring everything in black if most things around
are black already.

But I digress. You know, I am not a writer. I tried to find one, but people
are so obsessed with making their own name that they don’t want to write for
others. Maybe writing for a complete loser without money is not fun. (I
practice writing “complete loser” to provoke this tingling thing in my head
called ego to shoot me, so I can locate the sniper and disable him. Let it be
the part of why I need this to be a confession.) I am not a writer only
because more that 40% of the articles in this article are wrong. I have to
write, because I feel that whatever I want to tell is important, and I am
torturing you with this self-centric notes to postpone the moment where I
will lose my uniquiness, the ideas that are not unique, but that were born
inside of my mind. Yet, without any chances to thrive into a movie.

Spending three years makes one develop some mindset — restructure his neural
network to something that is not reacting to the signals of daily job. Making
connections between things that are not connected for people outside of your
new cell. The cell that thanks to the Internet could flow into any direction.
The cell that was a sanctuary for something to grow there. Something that
could at least change the World, and at most make it better. Something. It
was so elusive over all these years with constant distractions of open source
projects, and social activity, games, new technologies. Having all time of
the World for three years I spent it mostly sitting behind my computer doing
silly, but necessary things. Things that I thought that nobody else will do,
because daily job will never let your mind escape to pursue those things that
need to be done to push progress further.

I may be wrong. It may be an excuse from a negative side of me, that was
triggered by a sadness that this beautiful time is over. It is not lost. I
spent it playing important games about open source and openness with real
people in internet. I spent it playing computer games putting my head against
algorithms and addiction injective substance of game art, which is not a
static picture we used to appreciate by this word — “art”, but a dynamic,
vivid flow of interaction between our intention and desire to complete in
this strange model in our head called “gameplay” that is born and nurtured
by the colourful picture on the screen.

Snow after window in the beginning of May. My mind is racing, but I need to
keep going with writing this stuff. I may encode, clarify or lose the content,
ideas and vision, but I should not stop.

My mother is addicted. She plays everything match-3 on her tablet. I knew it
will happen, but it is still worrisome to see her spending hours in the same
position as me — without movement. Movement is what makes our bodies alive.
Movement is a market exchange in the body. It trades waste for minerals, food
for muscles, keeps body synchronized. It also takes some resource from neural
network to keep body alive. If match-3 games help to free the brain for more
body maintenance ops, then I will be good, but movement is still important to
make signals pass.

I am an addict too. The main reason I don’t have a job, because I feel that
job market is dumb and useless.

Snow stopped. Black clouds are gone. The sky is now clear and white clouds on
the horizon are reflecting the sun on the soothing light blue background.
Somewhere deep inside I am smiling.

I can’t stop playing games. I believe nobody can. But there is a difference
in playing for food and playing for fun. Playing for food is not fun, because
you can’t stop playing. Or is it? Part of the reason I am writing this is
because I am playing for food. I just don’t feel capable of playing for food
on my tech playground, because I got a trauma. I can’t not see the fun in the
gameplay where people are reinventing the wheel all the time. It is not
progressing, it is regressing. Even Google takes steps back.

Back in the days we’ve got Linux. Over these three years I finally understood
Linux. You need to ditch all definitions, install it, and start with two
concepts — what is in Linux filesystem — what is controlling terminal. If you
understand that Linux files could be more than files, you will appreciate its
design. If you understand what is controlling terminal, you will understand
how Linux interacts with you and how it runs all this programs and processes
for you. It is all about yourself. Egocentric.

But Linux was born social. Meeting other people, helping them understand,
asking questions to understand Linux yourself.

42. That’s the new title of this post. I am squeezing too much into this tiny
article, and yet I hadn’t even complete the story of a girl from Thailand,
with a nickname of “phangan catastrophy”. 42 = 35–7. Let it be one huge post,
dedicated to 35th anniversary and 7th of June 1982, because who know when in
the next three years I would write again. People need to anchor over
something, and just be careful not to stick to it for too long.

I risk of loosing non-tech people here, but I urge you to stay. I am talking
about Linux and its concepts, but do you know what — I have a plenty of tech
friends using Linux daily, having jobs with Linux, and even writing programs
for Linux (maybe even sending patches for Linux themselves) and those friends
don’t understand those two things I told you about. I can explain those words
right away, but if you are a human like me, you probably have about 7 slots
in your head for new things per article, and while I will be explaining,
chances are that new things will popup, your slots will be overfilled, and we
will lose each other.

I need to grab some food. I am writing this text for exactly one hour, and I
haven’t edited it yet. After I get something to eat, my mind will stop
racing, and the text will gradually become more boring up to the point that I
had to squeeze myself to make it readable again. But I need to make some
points to not forget. A speed up:

- we at Linux community and at a whole lose the sight of big picture and
details, we can no longer can fully understand the technology

- I should not speak for the whole Linux community
— I should not speak for the whole Linux community, also because I am
writing this from Windows — the operating system that I’ve been given and
addicted to in my childhood without alternative
— my Windows will be dead the next time I will appear on a public network
with an active security scanner (and it will be good if it kills the
system instead of stealing my ids and data)

- we at Linux community and at a whole, are not able to invent the tools to
sync knowledge between people more effectively
— we at Linux community are not even aware of the fact that we are people
who can’t read documentation anymore and need visual tools and arts to
sync on emotional level
— we, people who understand the power of arts in technology, are not able to
prove anything, because those skilled in tech are not skilled in arts and
vice versa
— we, people of the net, are not able to help each other to augment each
other to build beautiful things
— we, people, are too egocentric to help each other, becaues we are afraid
to be losers, until we have nothing to lose

I should now get and grab some food, but I can’t. I feel like I should edit
and throw out the parralel points about Windows above, but they are imporant
even if they look out of place. If it is 42 article, there is no second
chance to get this documented, and I already gave my apologies for not being
a writer.

Could writer help me to sync to be more aware of technology, to appreciate it
and not fear it? No. Because I don’t know how to communicate with other
person other than to write. Could writer help to make more people understand
what is this fancy “blockchain” word means? No, because nobody will read him
as people become more tuned to visual information streams. There is not much
information in visuals, but some of the concepts could be really really good
explained with animations. In Linux. In blockchain. But we are not doing it,
because we are all alone. Together, and alone. 3rd of 7 free slots in your
head is probably filled with this blockchain thingy. You can throw it away. I
am not going to explain what is it, because there are little chances without
a picture. I could try to ask you imaging yourself playing with office
papers and gluing them together one after one. If you will be careful enough,
you will get a book. This is blockchain. You pass the book between friends in
the room, and every person glues another page to the bottom. If you tear the
page from inside, the book will break, and your friends will be disappointed
that you’ve ruined the fun to collect all office papers in the book, so every
time you pass the book, they make a copy. Sounds like magic? This is that
technology is about. We just can’t not see it, but now you hopefully can

I need to really grab some food. Your slot 3 of 7 should now be free from
that blockchain thingy. Article 42 would not be complete without blockchain.
And this particular 42 post would not be complete without my father, who is
retired for 6 months and is getting addicted to tablet right now. Blockchain
could help him see what have he earned over all these years. This glued book
of papers is not interesting by itself — it is just a technology to set
records in stone, keep them from tampering. What is more interesting to us,
as a humans, is what is written on those glued pages. This is where
discussions about blockchain should be taking place. Block is a page, chain
are those pages glued together. That’s it. Everything above it is your own
logic, your own rules. Death Note if you like, but not about killing people,
and maybe not about people at all. You make the paper, choose material, how
pages look like, how do they reflect the light, what animation happens when
you turn the page, how to they look together. You may add the rule that your
pages will look like banknotes, and that pages can be torn to pieces and
glued to the bottom, and you will get Bitcoin. You can add the rule that new
pages to the bottom can only be glued if they match the puzzle that is
already composed by the torn pieces present there, make it the money, and you
will get millions of computers over the World cutting holes in the papers
trying to match the puzzle faster that new torn pieces are added to it. You
will get mining. As simple as that.

I am starving. My eyes hurt. Another 50 minutes passed. My father grabbed
vacuum cleaner and making loud noises. He enjoys working with instruments
and probably don’t like washing dishes, preparing food, and do other house
routine. So do I. I will never cut trees in the garden, only because I’ve got
a chainsaw, but I am not sure about him. We are all alike. We like playing.
We can wear suits and ties, but get us into the helicopter or BMW, and we
will lose that “self”. Somebody told me about theory that there is a small
lizard sitting inside of mother tiger inside our human, and I must admit I
had a lot of fun playing with lizards and tigers inside humans not even
knowing about it. It still didn’t help me to accept there is a lizard tiger
in myself, but right now, at the moment, I play this thing and become more
calm. Father passes by, and my lizard starts to race inside my head expecting
questions about job and money. At least they stopped to ask me about future,
family, children. Writing about lizard calms it. Part of my ego. Ego — 4/7. I
can’t explain what ego is. I hope you have some explanations. Father left.
And got back. Lizard jumped again. I should complete my registration at
UpWork today. The food I eat is not earned by me. I need to eat it anyway, or
the rest of this post will become depressice. Nothing lift the mood better
than some food. Any food. You just need to be hungry enough. The best cure
from depression. Get hungry and then enjoy your food. Making it a ritual. The
thing I learned in Thailand. The place that sent this crazy girl after me.

Crazy is not the right word. Energetic and not afraid. Interested and full of
life. Burning brightly. Kind of out of this World, and just the right kind of
the person to lure some undeads out of cemetery and put their mausoleum on
fire. Could be the part of some resurrection.

I need to eat. To complete the story. Or I will get a headache. Or not. My
mind is racing to tell the about paranoia. My paranoia is that I deeply
believe that paranoia is the result of drinking. I don’t drink anymore. I do
it sometimes with friends, but more often than before I choose not to. After
drinking I feel like I recovering too slow.

Sorry. My hunger makes myself tired. I am moving more and more into fiction
and into mouth full of water with every sentence. It becomes less focused,
less structured. I now need to get back to the paranoia paragraph above to
complete it. I am tired and my brain is having fun this way — and follow it
just to keep writing.

Resurrection. If you read until this line, we’re already tied to some degree.
We are probably a part of one karass. 5/7. I need to free this slot. This
“karass” thing is from book of year 1963. At that time there was no Internet
capable to link everybody in a matter of minutes through the storm of social
media channels. Ressurection. I just thought that maybe it is a ritual, and
I am is just a part of that ritual in the same way as you are. I am not a
writer, but I write. I am not lawyer, but I know about law, I am not your
friend, but for some reason I care about you. Not that I can send you money,
because, well, you know.. but still there is a model that somebody who could
read up until this point should be a good person, and I appreciate that. I
probably won’t be able to read that long myself.

I don’t know what resurrection is, or what is being resurrected, but I know
for sure that when birds learn to fly, they don’t learn flight formation,
they just stick together to help each other, and this way the move into a
completely new direction. Is there anybody who chooses it for them? Maybe the
first one, but not because of its ego to be the lead, but because he can’t
see anyone behind. Birds flocking is my favorite example of self-organized
system. Perhaps this is what I tried to start this article from. Right now
its plain text file on the dist is still called “AI is dumb, IoT is not
enough, what is the new Era”. Crazy enough to continue.

Birds can not see that they need to form a flock, and I won’t try to pretend
that I know what resurrection is about. I want it to be about me, but I want
myself to be a part of something better already, up to the point that I am
ready to sacrifice every my rigths for my “ideas”, texts and visions just to
make them happen in real life. I want other people to experience the thrill
when those ideas are born inside of them, because I want those ideas to come
alive, and people only work on their own ideas. There is a recipe how to seed
ideas into people, but does “idea ownership” help them to gather more people
around? No. I am a great example. All alone, with brilliant ideas, afraid to
tell about them, because they might not be that brilliant, and afraid that
somebody else may have already expressed them. Startupers say that ideas
worth nothing. As a loser, I don’t have a voice on par with millionaires to
argue with that. But I will say it anyways. Ideas are the best thing that is
present in this World — it is a source of inspiration, and that’s alone is
enough to share them.

I am loosing the track. I tried to manipulate you to rewrite this article,
because hereby I weave all copyright and other my rights from this text, so
you can be completely free to copy/paste and edit and spread the ideas
without me. No, seriously. Try it. I wonder how will this text evolve. You
have the complete freeedom to change any part in your flow. I don’t even give
you ideas what can you do as Google does with its competitions (often taking
the sweetest fruit first). I really want to do this and give you some ideas,
like what the article 42 can be for you, or through you, or not from you at
all, or not about you, or not with you at all. I won’t do this. Everything I
propose to you may ruin the fun on working on your own idea of article 42.
You own idea. Even if somebody expresses it, even me, if it sparked in your
head and you’ve got excited — its yours. Go and write it. It is not even need
to be named article 42. In fact, it will be good if it is not. The only thing
that article 42 does is links it all together. Much like internet links
computers, ideas link people.

This could be the end of the post. Exactly 3 hours passed since I started
writing. There are four notes after this line and I haven’t reread or edited
this text yet. I really want to put it on Etherpad to see the history of how
I was typing it, so that people could see that it is all unedited flow of
mind. Sometimes paused, sometimes racing. But I won’t. Because that will
distract me from content into design, which is important. But I am almost
empty. I need to get some food. My father is leaving again. We never cook for
each other. I’ve never seen him cooking. Maybe only grilled meat. I cook
sometimes, but it is more like this right now — get something quick to get a
fix. My ego doesn’t allow me to cook for other person. I don’t why. There is
nothing wrong with that, but something inside protests. I don’t know where I
got this pattern. Maybe because my lizard is lazy.

You must be tired reading that. Because I am tired writing. I need to finish.

Resurrection. People. Paranoia. Some purpose. Neuromancer was a novel by
Gibson. Many fans, no movie. Ghost in the Shell is now a movie. Not many fans
anymore. 6/7. 42 = 6*7. Neuromancer can not be made into a movie, because it
kills its nodes. If flock is a network, then every bird is a node of that
network. GitS movie was beautiful, but it needs a fix.

I am too tired to turn off the racing. I also feel more darkness coming from
inside as a weave the Neuromancer story into the writing. Still I need to
continue and try to pass a chain of knowledge into this article, into this
piece. Father left, but it doesn’t matter. Other thoughts will come to ruin
the flow. Just as a wrote the previous sentence, a bell rung. A bell from a
homephone — device that is used in block buildings to control who can enter.
Nobody replied, or it was a glitch, because it was still ringing in my hand.

Should I take a pause? No. Let’s finish this off. In the end I need a bio

Two empty lines above are 2 hours, 1.5 hours? I don’t remember. The ring
appeared to be Jenova Witnesses, who tried to speak with me about bible. As
if something is aware that I won’t be able to finish this article once I get
into my comfort zone. Even if I paranoid, I am not as stubborn as those nice
and cheerful people. People need to believe. They want the World to be a
better place. World want more good. Not goods, but something good. I can’t
translate. There were stickers “Хочется больше хорошего” in public transport
few years ago. They were almost begging for positive emotions around in a
cold transportation vehicle.

I got cold. Standing outside with those witness guys. Girl and guy. I dumped
my djinni theory on them. Accused of following the rituals instead of trying
to increase the presence of good will on planet Earth. I told them that their
Lord created their Bible so that people can study it and act according to it,
but that was not the goal — people reading books it not the goal — it is a
tool, a way to reach the goal. But what is the goal? They couldn’t answer.
Maybe because we were talking too long. I’ve got another idea why people
still may to suffer shortly after death. I run of of the slots. It will be
7/7, but in fact 7/7 is for djinni.

Let’s get back to GitS movie and the idea that it failed to deliver. I don’t
remember original GitS — I watched it about 10+ years ago, but I do remember
this feeling, the feeling of something, of ghost that was born in the shell,
and that ghost was already a part of something bigger. I went to the cinema
a month ago and I haven’t felt anything like this. The final phrase was
something about humanity. Now I will make a lobotomy. Sorry. I am a human as
you are. Like many people who knew about matrix before The Matrix, like those
who admire Bender and share his view about humans, I can not get rid myself
of a pleasure to talk about how limited we are. People with disabilities.
Before cyberspace we were all more or less equal. Some got better cards from
the start, but we could not compare ourselves to things that computers were
doing. It is not computers anymore. I tried to explain those guys that I
write article about everything and programs that run somewhere and interact
with people in real life is a big part of this article. Programs that
interact much faster than real people (thanks “Her” for casting that idea on
me — I still didn’t watch the movie, but I read about it). I haven’t seen a
lot of movie in 3 years that I was doing nothing. I can’t explain it. I can’t
explain where my time went. But if there was a program watching me and
interacting with me — it sure could tell me quite thoroughly. But programs
are not capable to do so. Programs is micromanagment curse of cyberspace.
They expect things to be exactly in the way they are written, and fail
miserably if something works in unexpected way. In that cases they usually
throw up with some guts. Often this is called “an exception”. It is so
exceptional to watch the guts of some program on the screen. Maybe that was
that mysterious content with green letters that was called the Matrix. You
watch guts of failing programs — coredumps, stack traces, exceptions to
understand how to hack or this the program, or gain access to other program.
This won’t do.

Programs are blind, not adaptable and too dead. Programs are machines. Or
chemical processes. Djinni are adaptable programs that are roaming the
cyberspace. There, people with their slow browsers and decision making,
constitute a small fraction of all volume of signals. Djinni are programs
that watch and react to these signals. Djinni are not programs, because they
do not throw their guts to the screen. No matter what, djinni reaction
produces further effects in the system. They are also adaptable. In djinni
can compare its output with input, it can adjust the reaction. This is how
rockets fly without pilots. This is how SpaceX finds its place. Constant

I couldn’t resist to photo melon sprout planted in kitchen by my mother and
make a post about different type of its sun batteries that are visible there.
It is almost 6 hours since I woke up and started writing this article, and I
haven’t ate anything yet. I am starving. The skin starts to fall off my face.
Disgusting for any kind of relationship.

I got back to writing this after looking at Facebooks notification, where
a video was posted from a blockchain meetup that was help few weeks ago.
Video titled in Russian as “How to build automonous economics that cares
about people”. Yes. Djinni is not the way it should work. It was just an
idea of some programs watching people and doing things in real world. They
can not be good or evil, because they are programs, but effects from their
actions, which we can judge as success of failure, can be good or bad for
affected people. Even if djinni were created to care about them.

This was an idea for the movie. Movie about hikkomori, 8/7, sorry, who is not
really isolated, he just don’t have a chance to be different. Djinni amplify
and react to desire of people. They are not able to solve conflicts between
people, but as long as they can predict what will happen (and that was the
original purpose of those programs), they can try to do things for a person
without this person even thinking about it. Some djinni are made for hacking,
they wait for some person pattern to appear, watch him, and then help this
person to gain access to whatever he wants or needs (in djinnis “opinion”).

27kB. I started getting responses on Facebook — “don’t write about
cyberspace, or you will turn into hikkimori”. This is what I meant saying
that Neuromant is dead. Because its adepts are hikkimori and they are not
capable of effectively communicate enough to produce something in real world.
Like if in real world we transmit much more information that we can encode
with letters and sometimes those ideas pass through the net of people in
closed envelopes until somebody resonates with them. This is why ideas should
be spreaded and this is also why you should do something, no matter what,
spend 15 minutes of your time to help the idea that resonated in you. If it
resonated with you, then maybe you are the part of something bigger, and you
can help it. I am skeptical about slacktivism and expressing your opinion,
but that’s my point and I am already expressing my opinion, so what I mean is
that try to be original and think about the best way to spend those 15
minutes working on some new idea, or, even better, how can you help other
person who will resonate on this idea, spend his next 15 minutes even better.
If every resonated idea pushes itself a little further, it will make a huge
wave out of tiny efforts, and if you are moving yourself just a little, and
helping others by clearing the road just a little, you are already definitely
a part of something bigger. We are all agents. I can us nodes. Somebody calls
us humans. But we are all conductors of some ideas. It just some of us start
to move and make waves, and some form the basis to achor this World. We are
all useful to each other.

My eyes are almost wet. It feels funny talking like this, and that keeps my
sanity anchored. I don’t want to be burned out, because people don’t believe
or agree on something. I like to argue, but here there is nothing to argue
about. Try and see how it works. Maybe it won’t work for you. Maybe I am
wrong. I am not a millionaire and can’t even open a Patreon account, because
begging for money is kind of painful for my ego, but I also dislike reading
articles where people begging for money. For some reason I think that begging
for money will ruin this article. Maybe because I should not label it as
“begging”. I need $667 to live a full life in my city with rented apartment,
it is $1 past $666 and that amused me. I link that 666 number to a beast
symbol of some religios books, which is like passport number — grants you the
right to buy and sell in the age of that beast. Is it about the current
economics? I don’t know. There are too many surfaces that this text sticky
with fears can stick to. But the idea of being already in some prehistoric
event where people who do useful things are begging for money is nice. Post
apocalypsis or something. Protopia as they say. Future that we can choose and
what we won’t be afraid to practice and speak about. Now we sync much more
faster and more effectively than in ancient times. Book are still valuable,
because we started from them, but we may lose the ability to comprehend them

Dammit. I couldn’t control myself and just lifted off to get some food. It is
to risky to even think about it. I am good and I need to finish this off.

I was going to write a sad story in two part about hikki, who was breaking
systems, because his mental pattern and intentions and actions were not aimed
at extracing money. And thanks to this he was able to bypass some systems, so
he became a pain in the ass for guys from real life. You know those — not
losers, with libido, power and stuff that neither of us have. Maybe it is an
illusion that those guys exist, because all the people I’d like to work for
were humble and working more than me. Soft authorities probably, but I am not
skilled in the art of dealing with people, maybe because I accumulated a lot
of hate towards people who call other people “resources”. Either way, they
are different from hikki. They are all other successful people in the world
around him and they are not accepting him, beause he (or maybe she) doesn’t
care about their values. About their belief. That’s why djinni help him. He
is non-believer, much like creators of djinni. Maybe every time it is a
different hikki that invades those systems and gives a pain to people with
power or in control. But the problem is that they can not catch them. People
in control are not the same as those who designed djinni, so they want to get
rid of that hikki, who is called “trespasser”. Wandering soul, so alone, and
not understanding why someone would want to get rid of him. People in control
or man in suits think that he is an evil hacker, a criminal who really should
be sentenced to death. They apply all the special forces that you can see in
movies about James Bond to catch him. They don’t know how to speak to him,
they don’t know how he looks like, so they send a girl to visit events which
hikki needs to attend, because he still needs to live in real world, pay his
taxes, and he is really uncomfortable being illegal in this world. He visits
the place. Girl notices that he is different and takes a photo with him that
gets published on social media and then face recognition with her labels that
particular person a suspect. She is asked to get closer to him. They unleash
the power of simple people relations to become a best friend with him. Easy
as outplaying a child, because hikki doesn’t have any experience and really
is like a doll. No sweet vengeance, no evil hackerness. He is eager to report
to his new friends that he passed the barrier. And this is the most sad scene
in a whole world — his new friends give a command to terminate him.

Part two. I wonder if anyone got through that barrier of personal stuff and
emotiongs. My kidney aches. Left one. I need to get to doctors, but I don’t
see any progress of spending money on them, because I don’t have any anymore.
Part two are about djinni creators. We see the same story through the eyes of
djinni who watch over “tresspasser” and react to his “naive”, unobstructed
world view. Tresspasser who doesn’t understand the value of money, who is
alone, but still values relationships with friends that are fragile and
hurtful. That’s one of the reason I can not callback to girls. It hurts me. I
don’t know which part. Probably not at the bottom. If I skip arguments from
the top, and start to speak only about sex, things get better. I am not sure
that hikkimori could even get to this point. Something happens to him, he
likes it and just trusts people the same way he trusts djinni. In part two we
see djinni creators who…

I could not stick to the chair. Farther turned on TV set, and its hard to
concentrate. My body jumped and went to kitchen. At least it is busy with
only one thing and as long as I can control that one thing, I can write
freely. Starving is still bad for my health. I need the balance. but there is
no illusion that I can sustain the balance myself. 35. Alone. I don’t think I
have the skills ready. It is 7.5 hours writing this text, except for those
guys who came to talk about their Lord, but left in a hurry, because they run
out of time. As if it was not their free will to control it.

…we see djinni creators who are interacting with djinni and giving them
commands, adjusting their reaction, teaching them, explaining them. Through
this dialog we see how djinni are being taught to care about people, but this
lesson comes after their mistakes. They lead “trespasser” and in the end
still fail to save him. We see that “tresspasser” is the same hikki as those
creators, he is not alone, he is one of their kin. They are cold and harsh on
emotions, but he is important to them. Maybe we will see them crying. After.
After the debug session is over. Because djinni act in realtime and can
predict the future and people can not. Dammit. I am crying. Something is
wrong with me. I don’t why. “Another one got passed passed away, it’s all
over the logs… Damn kids. They’re all alike..”. We can not save who don’t
want to live, but next time we will be better at saving those who didn’t even
had a chance to try.

I told this story to my friend. He was intersted in what happened with the
girl who was sent to hunt the guy. In a few days I had a vision about
different story. Post GitS. About people nodes who sync to build cells in a
bigger organism. Every cell in a body has the same code, the same DNA, but
every cell is different. It fullfills its role at this place and time and
feels comfortable, because it knows the whole picture. This cell is important
in this whole picture and there are numerous signals from outside that are
telling it about this. The cell itself is telling those signals to others,
because it also feels that these signals are important and just passes them
naturally. Let’s hope that this girl met another hikki and synced him to
others. To other who appreciate our disabilities as humans and who enjoy
being confortable to each other because we are all imperfect. We as humans
are a bad design to estimate ourselves and solve conflicts, but if we don’t
try, we won’t be good enough.

6pm. I can’t callback. I am afraid. I don’t know what to speak. She got my
birthday and told me about generator profile 5–1. I must accept that 70% of
what she told was true, and she was not a gypsy. An ego-centric person is
good at filtering things he don’t like about himself from things that match
him, but hopefully writing 42 article made me better.

I promise I will call her tomorrow. Maybe I am afraid to ruin my idealistic
model. Maybe I am afraid that she will dump me, but that’s what I am actually
expecting. Maybe the lizard inside of me got burned by those relationship
chemicals so badly that I am afraid to lose control. I should accept that I
am not a djinni and can not predict the future. Most I can do as a human is
watch and react, comparing what happens with where I would like to be and
making better every time.

Perhaps I should call her now. But I don’t want my parents to hear that. I
don’t want why. Perhaps because I don’t want to poison this part of my World
with my failures. If they don’t know about them, they can not mirror them
back to me. Because for some reason I believe that we exist not only in our
own minds, but also in the minds of others. That’s why it is so sad when
somebody leaves. It sad to know that letters from this person, even if they
are sealed, will never pass through this beautiful mind of yourd that have no
idea of what it is transmitting, to whom and when. But while on this part of
the planet we gather to drink vodka and grief over death, people in different
part of the World view the same event as celebration of a person’s life.
Opening the letters and reading them aloud.

Just need another 15 minutes to reread the text and publish it as-is. I will
be glad if many years later somebody will find it and open a sealed envelop
with the message from somebody else that I encoded behind these lines, not
even knowing about it.

Tomorrow I will have to format myself and get a job. So far this text is the
best I am capable for. Probably the crazy shit that nobody will read towards
the ends, but I even didn’t expected it. Thanks for being with me on that
journey. Hope you got something useful from it and spend some 15 minutes on
something that you have found important.

I decided not to check the text for clarity. If I will regret about it later,
then I will regret about anything I can tell people about myself, about my
view and ideas. I am not a writer, and I can find numerous other excuses, but
my ego and my perfectionism are linked and if I won’t deliver on time and on
budget, I won’t survive. This is the best I am capable of, this is me, and I
will be glad if people pick up and improve on that. I don’t retain any rights
to it and is willing to learn from it better. 18:45 should be the publication
date on Meduim. I am exhausted, but at least there is no race in my head
anymore. Tomorrow there will be place for a new chapter, but no matter what I
will do, I promise to call that girl. Lizard is taking me over in panic as I
am hitting the publish button.

Still could not do this. As I pasted the content from my text editor, I realized that Medium doesn’t understand my linebreaks. I did them at 78 line width. I missed the deadline, but it is okay. Pasting text in a hurry was just an signal from the body that it is tired and can not continue anymore. “Do anything, just let it finally end and grab some food“. I feel like a suicide lizard inside of me is doing this movement. Mother prepares food. Sun is setting down. I have its wading rays glowing on the screen on my notebook. Vista? My habit. Racing mind? My habit. There is no reason now that I could not get my bio break, get some food, fix markup of the article and spelling mistakes. It is not about me anymore, it is about the ideas that somebody sent to see the World.

But thinking about this twice — that won’t be the same text that one person is able to write for almost straight 8 hours in a row. Hah. Let make it live as-is. I am a human. I am imperfect. This text is about it. Let it be like this.

I decided not to check the text for clarity. If I will regret about it later,
then I will regret about anything I can tell people about myself, about my
view and ideas. I am not a writer, and I can find numerous other excuses, but
my ego and my perfectionism are linked and if I won’t deliver on time and on
budget, I won’t survive. This is the best I am capable of, this is me, and I
will be glad if people pick up and improve on that. I don’t retain any rights
to it and is willing to learn from it better. 18:45 should be the publication
date on Meduim. I am exhausted, but at least there is no race in my head
anymore. Tomorrow there will be place for a new chapter, but no matter what I
will do, I promise to call that girl. Lizard is taking me over in panic as I
hitting the publish button.