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[Alexandr Korol]

what should I reply?” I would say: “Well, if you reply like this, you’ll get
this exact answer.” Verbatim. “But if you write that, you’ll get this answer.
If you write it this way, she’ll think this.” I knew every version of every
answer to every message. They would test me — their goal wasn’t even to
talk to the girl anymore; they’d just sit there at the laptop, checking my
predictions, gasping in shock at how I was doing it. How did I know every
reaction, every answer from any person? I didn’t really understand it myself
back then. I didn’t tell them a voice was talking to me. We all just thought... well,
we thought I just “felt” things, or that I had some kind of special “psychology.”
The guys called me a “good psychologist,” thinking I was calculating it
somehow. But I leaned toward the idea that I just felt it. In reality, the voice
was doing it all. I remember I could be around all sorts of people — not just
my peers, but adults too. If there was a dinner party or a gathering, I’d look at
a person and see they weren’t good. The voice would immediately say: “This
person is doing such-and-such; he is deceiving your relative.” I’d think,
“Really?” “Yes, he’s like this, he wants this and that, and that’s why he’s here
right now.” And “they” were so bold — I wasn’t that bold myself. I’d ask:
“What should I do? How can I help?” They’d say: “Go up to him right now
and say this.” I’d ask: “Say what?” And they’d tell me: “Exactly what we just
said.” They loved doing that — saying something highly provocative about
someone and then saying: “Test it. Go say it, word for word.” Every single
time I said something directly to someone’s face — whatever they gave me
permission to say — people were stunned. It was like a physical blow; people
would lose the power of speech. They couldn’t even talk properly; they had no
idea what was happening. I’m remembering now that it governed everything:
when to go to bed, when to wake up, what movie to watch, whether to stay in
or go out, whether to post a chapter — I was writing books back then and
publishing draft chapters immediately. They would say: “Don’t do it now;
wait until evening. Post it in the evening.” I’d ask “Why?” and they would
tell me why. I didn’t take a single step without that voice. And now, as I’ve
entered this unusual state where the voice has returned, I’m realizing that
I am returning to exactly who I was at the beginning. How did I manage
to forget it over all these years? How did I stop using it? It is a source
of insane power. I asked them: