Alexandr Korol

They wouldn’t even feel the temperature of the air as long as they were focused on me. But as soon as the conversation ended, the person would take at least half an hour, sometimes even an hour, to come back to themselves and remember why we had met in the first place. They wouldn’t remember the conversation, even though they had clearly heard everything and had been fully present, here and now. But they couldn’t recall what we had talked about. They wouldn’t remember why we had met, and they wouldn’t remember where they needed to go next. They understood where they were going, but it was as if they needed to wash their face with cold water just to switch their mind back on and remember where their car was, how to get somewhere, or even where their home was. What is this? This was happening in 2010. What is this? It also happened in 2008 and 2009, but it was in 2010 that people started talking about it more. And do you know what’s most interesting? Later, I uncover even more of this mystery in the following volumes of “Alternative History”. And in the fifth volume, I touch upon the idea that I actually, physically go somewhere, write a book there, and then return. Physically, not psychologically — it’s not just an illusion. So, what happens is this: imagine that you, my friends, are with me in my apartment, and right now, it’s 10 in the morning. You leave to go for a walk for an hour. And during that hour, I decided to write a book. But something happens to me, to my apartment, to this space and time — so that I physically write for five hours. And because of that, everything dulls — this process affects food, smells, perfume gets irradiated, all water, everything — something happens to it all. I write the book as if time does not exist, and I produce the same volume of work that a person would create in five hours because, in reality, I physically spend five hours writing. But when I finish writing and look at the clock, only an hour has passed. And in that hour, you, my friends, return. Yet while you were gone for an hour, I was gone for five hours without you. And this is one of the reasons why I live alone. Right now, this may still seem like just a stick, not a flute. And we’re far from even thinking about what kind of flute this is for. But in the fifth volume, the reader fully realizes what this means — after already familiarizing themselves with the third volume, which discusses simulation, the multiverse, and artificial intelligence. Once you’ve gone through all that in the third volume, then the fourth and the fifth, by that point, it no longer seems supernatural but even normal. And as it turns out, this has been