Sophia lifted her head and noted that if you stripped away its unusual coloring, the creature resembled a young woman with African features.
Nothing new. When your guide is Nomadum, life becomes a journey. Nomads, who have no permanent "nests," find like-minded people (if they’re lucky) and travel often. They are sociable, have a sense of humor, and know how to dream. But they aren’t suited for family life and quickly begin to feel bored. Stuck in the same relationships, the same job, the same place. They are in a constant search for comfortable stability, yet can’t stand it. It’s a paradox. Even if you’re sixty, the thirst for adventure will drive you – at least to the dacha, and at most, to the airport.
Jumping into the car, Sophia turned on her playlist and cranked up the volume.
"I want to be confident in the future," sounded encouraging from the speakers.
Throwing a leaf from a plant out the window, Ephor rolled up the windows and drove on.
At this stage, it's important to bring clarity to what’s happening.
The soul voluntarily chooses a new life path and returns to Earth until it becomes multifaceted and purified. Only after completing all the preparations can the soul remain and no longer need to go back to Earth. Celebration!
Human beings' temporary needs have always overshadowed their true ones. They carefully distracted their consciousness from the only real cause of their unhappiness: the lack of independent choice. This was a nearly perfected Masonic conspiracy. But the Masons were merely a handful of guides – beings who believed themselves to be the Messiah. And while one writer warned that "Annushka has already spilled the oil," the Guides used that oil as if it were olive oil. The semantic equivalent astounded the minds of the Higher Realm, let alone those of the human world.
Each Guide represented a set of specific emotions and desires – a subtle, higher force, a lifelong companion. A kind of energy cluster containing a certain program.
Formally, a person had a choice. They could take an alternative path and would even encounter alternative acquaintances and obstacles along the way. But in the end, the final constant remained unchanged. A constant value, known as fate among people and as protocol among the guides.
So, the coordinates on her watch indicated that the new patient was already at the "Sleeping Dolphin" clinic. It wasn’t a short drive, but Sophia’s stash of rock music kept her entertained. She always turned the volume up, popping chocolate after chocolate into her mouth. In the human world, they would have called her a sweet tooth, but in reality, Ephor had long studied their harmful habits, including the craving for food.
Stopping at a gas station, she noticed a boy about seven years old. He was staring at the vending machine filled with sweets, uncertainly tracing his finger across the glass from one candy bar to another.
“Need some change?” Sophia asked, approaching the boy.
“No, thank you—” he mumbled. “Mom gave me some money, but I can't choose. All the candy bars look so good.”
“Banana with chocolate seems pretty good,” she said, pointing to the middle of the shelf. “It's just sweet enough and has the right amount of syrup.”
"That’s what the advertisement claimed," she thought to herself.
“I like it too!” the boy exclaimed. “I think I'll choose that one.”
Two unhappy figures appeared near the vending machine.
“If you think about the essence of choice, our perceptions shape our desires. Every day, we have to analyze countless little things. And perhaps, in this very moment, we are drastically different from who we were just a minute ago. It feels like the day is packed with denial.” The twin girls, the same age as the boy, in light lace hooded capes, stared at Sophia with their red eyes.
Flavuses saw better in the dark and tried to hide from the light.
One of the girls pulled back her hood, revealing a face resembling a bat, with a snout instead of a nose, and shook her blonde hair, tied in braids, with hostility.
“What's your name?” Sophia asked the boy, trying to ignore his unfriendly companions.
“Lucas,” he mumbled, yawning.
“You know, Lucas, you don't have to spend so long choosing just one chocolate bar. You can grab the first one you see. Next time, you can try the one next to it. That way, you'll always have a variety of flavors,” the girl tried to encourage him.
“I don’t know, what if I don’t like it—”
“You'll end up like a product of the apricot after a worm gets into it – There's a fine line between "I want" and "I was convinced to want this,"” the blonde girl muttered.
“The road ahead isn't short, and all that will remain is your own reflection in the glass and reflection,” the second girl countered.
“Son, there you are,” an adult woman approached them. “Sorry, he’s already started gathering a line here. What are you stalling for, Lucas?”
“Oh, it’s fine, I’m not in a hurry,” Sophia replied.
“Mom, I don’t know which chocolate bar to choose. Help me.”
“You always have the same problems,” a middle-aged man in a perfectly pressed, starched white shirt rolled his dark blue eyes.
"Great. Just what I needed – Lombask here," Sophia thought, studying his chiseled Asian features.
He looked like a Japanese man with a tall, athletic build, broad shoulders, and muscular legs. But at a certain angle, his appearance was distorted, and the man with hair as black as oil resembled a crow.
“Son, I’m not rushing you, but we still have a long way to go. We need to make it before dark. You know how your dad dislikes driving at night.”
“Then help me out, Mom.”
“Why waste so much time?” Lombask said irritably, brushing his fingers through his hair and slicing through it with his sharp, long nails. “This boy can never make a quick, well-considered decision.”
“Alright, Lucas. How about we try this one this time?”
The woman pressed the button on the machine, and it spat out a candy bar in a plain wrapper with a crunch.
“Nougat – Even the waves wash up more selective treasures from the sea floor,” one of the girls wrinkled her nose.
“They spit out what isn't tasty,” the second girl sighed.
The twin girls turned toward the boy, pulling up their hoods.
“They at least know what they don't like,” Lombask scoffed, his patience wearing thin. His black hair fluffed up as if he were preparing for an attack.
“Goodbye, Lucas,” Sophia waved to him.
“Goodbye,” the boy replied shyly, awkwardly waving back as he unwrapped the unwanted candy bar and shuffled after his mother.
The boy's Guides walked behind him, holding hands, trying to avoid the direct sunlight streaming into the store through the dusty windows. Their gait was weary and slightly awkward, as if they hadn't slept for hundreds of years.
In contrast, Lombask strode confidently with his shoulders back, slightly ahead of his charge, glancing back only once toward the boy.
"What is that look – contempt?" Sophia thought.
After the gas station, she didn’t stop anywhere. Meeting the Flavuses always left an inexplicable residue. Timid, albino children who rarely engaged in conflict. Anyone assigned such a guide would be very unfortunate, as positive thinking would be out of the question. However, a melancholic mood was guaranteed, for that was like medicine to the Flavuses.
Lucas was a very nice and clever boy, though extremely shy, but it couldn’t be any other way with such Guides.
Lowering her left hand into the pocket of her denim jacket, the girl retrieved a banana chocolate bar without letting go of the steering wheel with her right hand.
“Well, it really is tasty,” she mumbled, taking a bite.
Chapter 3
Stepping out of her office, Sophia adjusted her robe and ran her hand over the dolphin-shaped business card in her pocket. As she walked, she gathered her wavy dark blonde hair into a bun. It was time for her usual routine.
The clinic had been built from the ground up by the Ephor many years ago. The exact date of its establishment was strictly confidential for regular staff.
If asked what this place meant to these beings and what feelings it evoked, the Ephor would have answered with one word – order. Every nook and cranny, every corner was meticulously planned and designed with a specific purpose: to distract patients from their true thoughts in favor of "substituted" ones.
The nurse's involuntary smile, the menu in the cafeteria, the sleep and wake schedules – all had one common goal. And the coordinated mechanism worked smoothly.
Thanks to timely renovations, the clinic looked impeccable. The white, glossy floors, lemon-colored walls in the long corridors, and spotless, white patient rooms, where the furniture color harmonized with the surroundings, all contributed to the atmosphere. The cold light from the ceiling bulbs didn’t strain the patients' eyes, while the cozy green garden with its lawn (behind the clinic) allowed people to connect with nature freely. Nothing hinted at the broken lives within the walls of this institution.
Sophia's patient had been admitted for rehabilitation three weeks ago. The notes mentioned that he occasionally experienced panic attacks, and typical sedatives weren't effective.
She entered the room and noticed a man sitting on the windowsill, thoughtfully gazing out the window. A sheet of paper lay on his lap, and he was sketching something with a pencil.
“Constantin Von?” the Ephor called out to him.
“It’s Van, to be precise. And I want to say right away that I’m feeling much better. So you don’t have to waste your time on me,” he said, setting the paper lay down on the windowsill and jumping down.
Sophia looked at Constantin. Before her stood an athletic man, constantly adjusting his ash-blonde hair.
She opened his medical file, activating the extended data function: "Born in a seaside town. Age 29. Height 1.80 m. A young Earth soul. Beginning to emerge from oblivion. Travels extensively around the world. Artist. Personal Guide – Kallidus."
“Are you drawing?” she nodded toward the sheet of paper.
“Yes – the nurse said no sharp objects are allowed in the room, so I 'borrowed' a pencil from her pocket. Sorry about that. Drawing always calms me down,” he smiled, rolling the "wooden tool" between his fingers.
Sophia approached the windowsill and glanced at the sheet. It depicted a boy and a girl. The girl stood behind the boy, hesitating with her hand halfway to his shoulder. Her medium-length curly hair flowed freely, and delicate freckles were visible on her cheeks. One strand was tucked behind her ear, revealing a pointed ear that resembled either an elf's or a fox's.
“I don’t want to overthink it, but I think he’s drawing me.”
Startled, Sophia quickly glanced to the right corner.
A naked red-haired girl with bright blush and green eyes nervously twitched her fluffy tail.
She stood partially in the shadows, with half of her body erotically illuminated by the midday sun.
"Kalliduses are jokers, beings with high adaptive functions. They embody sexuality, always hungry for sexual energy. They can adjust to any circumstances, being cunning and quick to act. They ignite their charges with ideas but also let them fizzle out without completing anything. However, they ensure an inexhaustible supply of inspiration for such people," Sophia recalled.
“It looks that way, doesn’t it? He wakes up in the middle of the night and starts drawing frantically. Once, he painted the girl’s hair in bright red. I’m starting to get anxious. That’s why I brought him here. Though the girl was so sensual, just beautiful. A bright spot in a gray world.”
“The self-love of the Kallidus is also not to be underestimated.”
“Excuse me, you haven’t introduced yourself,” Constantin called out to Sophia, interrupting the guide’s tirade, but (to his fortune) unaware of it.
“Sophia. Sophia Ryoskin,” the girl replied and turned to him. “Beautiful drawing, you have a vivid imagination.”
“Do you think so? Sometimes I wish the girl in the drawing would finally touch her companion, but I feel like the time hasn’t come yet,” Constantin hesitated, as if shy about his drawing.
“And I hope it won’t come,” the Guide scoffed.
“Do you mind if I take the drawing?” Sophia asked. “It’s just so unusual.”
“Of course, I have plenty of them,” Constantin hesitated for a moment. “Tell me, how long will I be here?”
“No, there’s no need for that. Panic attacks aren’t uncommon these days. I’ll schedule follow-up appointments to monitor your progress. Otherwise, you can return to your normal life.”
“Thank you. I have an exhibition tomorrow. It’s nothing spectacular, but maybe – will you come?”
She looked at Constantin, who couldn’t stop smiling at her. Sophia hadn’t planned on establishing a connection with him so quickly.
“Yes, of course. Write the time and address on the back of the paper. You already have a pencil.”
Constantin laughed and, with a victorious expression, jotted down the address.
“Well, I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow, make sure to come.”
“Yes, definitely come. Otherwise, we’ll come after you ourselves,” the guide teased.
“Excuse me. How did you say it’s pronounced? Von?” Sophia turned back as she was leaving the room.
“Van. Constantin Van,” he replied.
“Elizabeth. You can call me Libby,” the Guide muttered.
* * *
Sophia arrived early at the designated spot on the paper. Ephors always had a habit of doing everything perfectly, and being late was unacceptable for them. She wanted to speed up the process of connecting with this person and resolve the issue at hand. Adjusting the mirror in the car, she touched up her lips with a soft peach color and made sure she hadn’t smeared her mascara. Sophia preferred a gentle, everyday makeup look, despite her bright and quite attractive appearance (with wavy light brown hair and dark, thick eyebrows) not needing any additional highlights. But Sophia didn’t want to stand out or draw attention to herself among the crowd.
At the exhibition, as with any other event, she chose a refined outfit. A black blazer, a black silk dress, and black high-heeled pumps. For accessories, she opted for emerald stud earrings and a thin titanium ring on her pinky.
Stepping out of the car, Sophia decided to take a look around. The studio was located not far from the main street, but it was hidden from passersby by winding alleys and iron staircases. The brick building, in the spirit of the old town, seemed to say "new things are born here, but the old is honored."
The iron door creaked open with a heavy groan, and Constantin stepped into the light. He was wearing a green checkered shirt with rolled-up sleeves, worn dark jeans, sneakers, and a few strokes of paint on his wrist.
“What delicate hands he has,” Ephor noted.
“Sophia! I didn’t think you were so punctual. There’s still an hour until the opening,” Van said a bit flustered but his eyes showed joy.
“Yes, I can’t help myself. It’s probably a professional habit,” she shrugged.
“Well, everything is almost ready. Please, come in,” Constantin invited her.
