Book: The love for three zuckermann

The purpose of beauty, torment and torture, because by its very nature - just a promise the impossible, and the other fact it does not.

I believed that helping the society to stay healthy. Although, having access to a broadband data scanning, it was very hard to believe in his health. The impression was that it consists entirely of pathological perverts, just as complying with external standards... And we don't become so in recent years, we have always been so. Don't you believe?

In the early twenty-first century Datapol - it was then called differently, but that's not the point, the first time made up a complete database of all sex deviants. Technology online monitoring was doing its first steps. It is based in those days he was a very simple but profound principle. Laugh all you want, Kyo, but every professional knows what you perverts are reacting not so much the picture as the signature under it...
Kesha swallowed it "you perverts," meekly. To complain did not make sense for many reasons.
- The picture could be an old black woman cutting the watermelon, and the signature will be "teenagers caught in the bathroom" - and the client will still click the link. The human brain is so stitched that the verbal level of encoding overcomes the visual. Hundreds of years of people screaming that we live in the realm of visual images. This is certainly true - but to classify visual diversity is possible only through words. Therefore, in the twenty-first century the main porn sites of the world were just branches of Datapol. The pornorolikov may have appeared sincere enthusiasts, but their names were invented by the officers of the police special algorithm that allowed to be, so to speak, a detailed menu of all possible deviations. And the first click of the mouse, these diagnoses were permanently stuck in the personal metadata... ...
Already in those years, the intelligence officer could see more of the sex dossier on any citizen who has tied to personal accounts from the device and all the devices were lit after the first use of a credit card or e-mail... moreover, the gadgets were now standing remotely operated camera, and the consumers believed that it only works when burning next to a tiny green light, heh-heh-heh... And everyone felt obliged to carry in the pocket of so-called smart phone - the microphone and the eyes of several intelligence agencies. It was how people explained in media, a modern and prestigious... <...>
Since surveillance technology have become infinitely more sophisticated. And after the appearance of intracerebral connections to talk about some resistance to the scan is ridiculous. You do not understand this Olympic omnipotence, divine omniscience, which looks into your soul any intelligence officer with a full admission...

Our mind is a continuation of the mind of those who lived before, our bodies are made from the dust of ancient stars, and a magical language in which we think about it, the most Central and intimate part of our being - exposed in any primer... the Higher self of the world - in each of us, whispered the yellow pages, only manage to find it.
But I knew what to look for is the highest "I" will be different, the lower one which I will be. All the secret wisdom of mankind seemed to me a sort of green forest maze. It paths down close to hanging over him the Apple of truth - and again taken away. To become, to become, to be the one that was always and from the start, for mortal man cannot. One kazhim could somehow flow into the other, clouds can take very different forms - but they will never be able to become the sky.

We're all just parts of one, and the main misconception is belief that around him - some "external" world from which it is separated by an air gap. The man is out of the world, threading through a thousand green branches. He is the interweaving of branches that rise from the lake of life. Reflected in its surface, the branches believe in their separateness as they could to believe in it, for example, the mirror card Jack, no idea that they are just playing the fool, and without it the deck non-functional.

I felt the universe as a vast delicate balance. It was applied like two different wills, two different semantic mark - and applied with such force and power that the "sky" was shocked actually. In reality, of course, wills in the world there were an unimaginable number, and they were all possible directions and types. And each of them know anything did not like about the others. But together they formed two rassipautsya each other thread.
One of them wanted to be. The other didn't want to be. Or, maybe more correctly - didn't want to be. They engage each other in mortal combat, mixed, burned and was freeze each other again, and had a friend from pals was just one of these forces is sufficient to thicken. In General, if you saw the Chinese sign "Yin-Yang", the outer dish were inscribed in it.

In the mind of the average person there is no lack of which he himself is unaware of. We can say that in the basement of the human mind is constantly going on thieves ' meeting, where, in fact, the fate of the entire home. These voices are constantly arguing with each other. Until they say different, the roof can not hear anything - she only feels a slight nervousness. Then a few of these votes agree about something with each other and begin to speak in unison. Then the volume is sufficient that they became audible above, and they become a team.
The ordinary man that hears voices - he obeys. More precisely, it is these voices, because before teams start to run, no man just no: the self arises in the process of their implementation.

It was not ultra-modern design. The design, as often happens in Moscow, strove so far outrun the age that, owing to the simple cyclical nature of culture began to reproduce the past. We get a sort of a model factory-kitchen times, the defeat of Trotskyism.

Crowdfunding is not enough even for downshifting.

Cheese, and Italian olive oil (not quite olive and not very Italian - Italian for a hundred percent was just the mob, to engage from Tunisia left the tanker with canolas have done this a painful and not always hygienic way to my plate that I didn't know how I'm going to eat them on. And tea... No, I better not see who and as it rakes in piles.
In General, it looked like the world was no longer shy of me and showed me his nakedness. Not even shame, and all their countless srami: laid out in front of my face the same polynomial, which is so terrified, I remember, interested in the mathematics of the red cavalry. But with them it was a joke and me in reality. Moreover, the polynomial used to beat me with their spikes on all sides, cost me only a little to lose vigilance.

Her name was Maria. She was a little over forty, she had a husband and two children. The husband she hated for a small salary and a big cock (Yes, it happens), the children rather liked - but manifested this love, too, as hatred, and they feared her.

Because some idiots around. They believe that the system is Putin. Or Obama. And if you are very sure that the system is fed and the Yellen-Smilen.
And the system is illuminated screen at a distance of sixty centimetres from the eye. We fuck, the Council wondered what for us today would be news. Putin, Obama, Yellen - is it just different pictures. And the screen is the same... We think we control half the screen, and half the intelligence agencies, but actually the screen itself has long drives, and us, special services. That's what the system. And how on earth to deal with it if about the struggle with her, we read on the same screen?

You are born with a clean flash drive and you randomly written snippets of the cultural code that arrives from the information space. They are no more nor the words of the Almighty, or even no idea about it. Spray the shit of the world be your fan control program and begin to define your actions. And then you for it is favoured, or executed. The world is pouring into you and your millennial festering poison that makes you guilty before the world, which it you poured.

Versions of the coming of untold many - and they all exist independently, although some parallel universes very similar to each other (even heaven and hell where people is mostly just tuning and debugging already familiar underlying reality). Our Agency is that we have no predetermined and final route. But any of the trains on which we ride at the moment, such a route exists. And he icily clear. Train "Moscow-Petushki" never arrive in London, there can come only to the good memory of the Venechkom.