I stood up and took the folder from the Curator’s hands. Standing next to him, I felt like a midget next to a giant. My interlocutor was so great. I took the folder and examined it carefully. The folder was not a folder, but a black-bound book. And just as I was about to open it, my companion’s stern voice immediately sounded:
– Stop. I have to warn you. All those who read their Book of Life were very disappointed, and did not want to live later. Don’t read it. It’s not worth it. It is better to live life without knowing your future. Knowing the future has not brought happiness to anyone yet.
–I’ll take a look.I’m not going to read everything,– I replied.
When I opened the book, I saw something that, for every person, is usually very scary to see.
Ekaterina date of birth September 27, 1993
date of death (date and month blurred) 2055
The curator put his hand gently on my shoulder.
–It’s not that bad, is it? You have a lot of time to live a decent life. You will survive pandemics, political regime changes, see a new era, and become one of the survivors of the harvest. A lot can be done over the years.
For example, to raise offspring with dignity. Become an outstanding writer, travel, see the world. To make capital.
–Yes, of course you’re right,– I said, coming out of my stupor, boldly looking at my patron.
The supervisor hurried me on. Saying that I would watch faster while I still can.
I opened the book closer to the middle. There were no letters, lines, or sentences in the book. Instead, there were pictures, like video clips. It was like a vision.
And that’s what I saw. I was standing in a room with a table next to me and on the table were my statues of Michael and Gabriel, the Archangels. A handsome young man burst into the room I was describing. He had grey eyes, a slender build and shoulder-length black hair. We argued and swore. At some point, he broke down and slapped me in the face. I fell. Then I leaned on the table and slowly stood up. Coldly, without crying, whining or tantrums, I rose slowly. Proudly, looking at the guy, I straightened up. He changed his face. Tears were in his eyes. The brunette fell to his knees in front of me and pressed his face against my stomach. There was something very intimate and desperate about that gesture. I tried to push him away by his shoulders, but he held on tightly.
– That’s enough – the Curator’s order sounded.
Once again, I just have a folder in my hands, which my interlocutor immediately took away. We sat down opposite each other again.
–I didn’t understand anything,– I confessed.
The curator took a sip from his glass. What I thought was wine turned out to be blood. The curator drank blood like people drink wine. After drinking it in one gulp, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked at me very sternly.
Your visions cannot be interpreted literally. In your day, people were not particularly wise. Each succeeding generation of humans is less intelligent than the previous one, which is why you cannot see things so clearly. Blood is not simply water, and genes play a significant role. Your mind cannot fully comprehend what is written in the Book of Life, as the operating system is incapable of processing such a vast amount of information. This is what you perceive as it is. However, when the moment arrives, you will comprehend what you have seen, and then you will truly begin to live this experience. Thus concludes the Owner of the Castle’s explanation.
The Bassoon is the demon of the winds.
Coffee with snow. Story 1.