Cubes. Vadim Simbarskiy

later, he led me to the large monitor and

      placed my hand on the control panel. Still, nothing

      happened. He placed his hand, and immediately the

      red light lit up and the monitor turned on, wishing

      good morning, asking what he would like for

      breakfast.

      “It doesn’t see you! It doesn’t see you!” Stel

      repeated relentlessly, clutching his head and

      pacing back and forth.

      “Who is ‘she’? ” I finally asked loudly.

      “The System, the Systeeem,” Stel repeated twice,

      drawing out the word. Then he stopped and, as if

      suddenly frightened of something, ran to the window,

      turned around, and asked conspiratorially: “How

      did you manage to get rid of the identification

      chip?”

      “Listen,” I said in a more confident tone, “please

      open the bathroom door for me. I haven’t been to

      the toilet in what feels like 130 years. So let’s

      deal with everything else later, chips-schmips and

      so on, because I really need to pee.”

      Stel looked at me, dumbfounded, and I had to repeat

      in a more insistent voice:

      “Open the door already, master of red buttons.”

      Finally, he obeyed and opened the door. I rushed

      into the bathroom. And oh, you can’t imagine the

      relief you feel when you use the toilet for the

      first time in over 100 years! Coming out of the

      bathroom, I found Stel with the same thoughtful

      face I had left him with.

      “I’ve heard…” he began, stumbling over his words,

      “that there were those who somehow managed to get

      rid of the chip, but they were all caught.”

      “Enough of this, the uncertainties are getting

      tiresome. It’s clear that I’m in the future. Let’s

      have some coffee, and you can tell me everything.”

      “So,” I said, settling into a rather comfortable

      armchair with a cup of a drink remotely resembling

      coffee, I decisively asked the first and, as I