Gita Cohen-López

Let's extract the complete infor from the imprint. The Committee is waiting.

David Cohen

Done. I connected to the Model. Sent it to the exact coordinates as during the test. The Model returned the complete infor.

Dan Bolivo

And? What's inside?

David Cohen

Here, I'll show you. First came this. The first block, the one that nearly killed you both. That's the one I showed Grandpa the day before he…

"But how could it be that Fannie gave birth on that very day? And how did he get that name? Now this will also be the Day of David for me. I can't tell anyone, but I'd like David to learn everything eventually. And something tells me he will."

Gita Cohen-López

So, about Mom, you, and some secret – we've already seen this. Sounds like. a diary entry?

Dan Bolivo

So is this really a diary?

David Cohen

Yes, exactly. Sam Pinsky's diary. The original file was deleted the day… of his death. As the infor was addressed to me, the Model allowed access to the entries, one by one. This one came first, the very last.

Gita Cohen-López

What's in it? Show us.

David Cohen

Here. Entry from January 2, 2047. There is no timestamp, but it seems to be right after I left before him.

"The boy left. I sit in emptiness. I'm a loser who thought himself a prophet.

Goal. Light. Day of Dignity. All these years I lied – to Fannie, to my grandchildren, to the world, to myself. Killed friends, killed Jim – for what? Should've killed myself too, but failed. I've cornered humanity, cornered myself.

Gita is gone. Dave will curse me. Gitana is gone for good, not that one – the real one. She would've never allowed it.

It will be the third time, and now, for sure. Erasing the diary, erasing the backups. No one must read this. Ever. I know – David will still read it, since it's 'addressed' to him. Let the boy decide what to do with all this.

And I am free. And for the first time in a long time – honest."

Dan Bolivo

Dave, what is he talking about? And what does the Day of Dignity have to do with it?

Gita Cohen-López

Killed? Grandpa? A third time? WHAT? She wouldn't have allowed WHAT? Why would Dave curse him? Nothing makes sense… We have to read this – the whole diary.

David Cohen

Yes. And only then – conclude. Let's not report anything to the Committee yet.

Gita Cohen-López

And where did this file even come from? Where did he keep it?

Dan Bolivo

Hold on. Here – it's the My Personal Diary software, from 1995. The Model recovered not just the text – it found the application structure. It's a standard JDF file, not even password-protected. The folder was empty, but the imprint exists. And it was addressed to Dave. So yeah, the file was restored.

David Cohen

Are you telling me this program still works?

Dan Bolivo

Yes, everything works, believe it or not – and they still support their older versions. Pretty wild – 50 years in business. I already installed it, using an emulator. The file was created in 2027. It'll be readable by anyone, not just you, via the Model interface.

David Cohen

Damn, this says January 1, 2027 – the time – 00:05 AM – five minutes after the Ultimatum. The first entry is precisely the one you and Gita caught. And the last one – I pulled it today. Dated the day. He was gone. Gita, for the lab journal?

Gita Cohen-López

Yes, there. And let's read. All the entries. In order. We'll talk afterward.

2027-01-01 5 AM

Fannie. From Israel. I thought she was calling about the Wanderers. Of course – everyone's calling everyone right now – whoever still has service. Everyone's watching. Everyone's in shock.

But there was no panic in her voice. Not a word about the Concordat. She simply said, "Dad, you're a grandfather twice over. The boy came first. We named him David. The second – Gita. After Mom. The last name will be double – Cohen-López."

I realized the Wanderers had waited. They gave me time. But how did it happen that Fannie gave birth on this very day? And how did he end up with that name?

Now it will be David's Day for me as well. I can't tell anyone, but I'd like David to learn everything in due time. And something tells me he will. And the girl – like a quiet return. I didn't cry. But my hands were shaking.

2027-01-01, later

The world stopped. Shock is too neutral a word. It was a shutdown of the structure of thought. Military command – everywhere – tried to reactivate channels. They didn't work. Not just communications. Not just satellites. All weapons – froze.

Those who managed to start an offensive saw tanks stall, missiles fail to launch, and drones fall. Entire fleets – without navigation. Commanders – without orders. Soldiers – without motivation.

Not just because someone turned them off. But because nothing resonated anymore. No aggressive infor found a response. They simply – fizzled out. As if someone said, “This is no longer the language of reality."

And me? Of course, I was rejoicing, but this is not my victory. It's just a fact. The first day of the new world began in absolute silence.

2027-01-08

We didn't just accept the Ultimatum. We accepted the fact of extraterrestrial interference.

Our psyche, for the most part, held – but reason surrendered. For the first time in history, humanity was forced to comprehend something greater than itself – not through faith, not through culture, not through dogma. Through fact. Through a sudden breakdown of all illusions.

Shock, of course, will linger for a while, but it will transform into a new form of thinking. Yes, we are not alone. Yes, we are being controlled. Yes, there is something more substantial than us. And the strangest thing – it didn't destroy us. On the contrary, this helplessness mobilized everyone.

2027-03-04

I'm not planning to become a new 'Christ.' But if you know exactly how to prevent billions from dying, if you are the one who can provide a system that won't allow shooting, if you see how parasites of the former order still cling to the remnants of the old world – then you have no choice.

The Committee for Contact had to emerge – and had to be led. I'm not manipulating – I'm managing and coordinating. And yes, I use the tools I created myself – media, nanostructures, trust. No one had to be broken, only convinced that this way is right. It is not power. It is – responsibility.

2027-06-11

Opposition will always find a loophole. If not in partisans, then in administrations. If not in rebellion, then in sarcasm. If not in protest, then in business.

Milon crossed over to the side of those trying to regain control – through corporations, through space, through 'technological freedom.' SpaceZ became their dream of returning to the pre-DD world.

Putin, Xi, Khamenei, Trump – they all act like viral relapses, trying to activate the immune system of the old order. But they don't understand the main point – the environment has changed. And opposition now is no longer a struggle, but an artifact.

2027-10-02

And yet – firearms remain, and in large quantities. Cold weapons. Private stockpiles. Criminal channels. We can't clean out everything and everyone. Nor do we need to. The field no longer resonates with violence – and that's enough. However, if it does happen, the Committee has the power to protect people. It is temporary. Only in extreme situations. Not out of revenge – out of necessity.

It's not a club. It's a prosthetic for conscience until it grows back on its own.

2028-01-20

I feel that I'm living for a reason. Not for myself, not for power – for the process. For that pure line of development that became reality out of a metaphor.

I don't think I'm some kind of 'savior.' But I finally feel that I'm doing something irreversible. Well, Yeshua Ha-Notzri also knew he'd be crucified – but still went to his Golgotha. And I'm going too – what else can I do?

2028-02-06

The world isn't getting kinder. They stopped shooting – but didn't stop hating. One would think – weapons are gone, peace has arrived. But as always, reality found its loophole.

They can no longer ruin a neighboring village with a single missile – but inside, everything still boils.

Just six months after our near-total demilitarization, the first hotspots began to appear.

People left without tanks and rockets started killing each other with their hands, stones, knives, and baseball bats.

2028-07-14

In southern Sudan, clans that once communicated through scopes now charge each other with knives.

Northern Iraq – again a hot zone, not due to armies or insurgents, but due to groups fighting over food distribution channels.

Blood again in Raqqa – tribal conflicts no one expected flared up as if they'd been waiting for their moment.

In Karachi, at the port, groups armed with sticks and chains staged a massacre right in a humanitarian warehouse.

In Mexico City, street gangs fight to the death for neighborhoods, even though all cartels were formally disarmed.

2028-12-03

The weapons have been destroyed, but the violence hasn't. People continue to kill with knives, sticks, and bare hands.

Now, by the end of 2028, we've already recorded over fifteen hundred major hand-to-hand incidents. It's a massacre.

Yes, no more nuclear blackmail. Yes, no strategic missiles. But has blood stopped flowing any slower? I can't shake the feeling that human aggression has simply changed its clothes. Didn't change. Just took off the camouflage.

How could we not have foreseen this! If I disappear, if the block weakens, if the network fails – they'll return to darkness very quickly. And then it's the end of everything. It's not their fault – this is how the primate psyche works. Which means, we must somehow block the very structure of aggression transmission.

I've seen the figures – a million casualties in three years in local conflicts.

So it's not about weapons. I miscalculated – you can't change a monkey. Hobbes and Russell were right: our foundation is fear, and only fear. No, also aggression, although it is a derivative of fear.

What should we do? We'll discuss it tonight at the Committee's "supper," but my GIT is wrong, and I'm a loser who thinks he's a god.

2028-12-03, later

The Committee meeting wasn't strategic – it felt almost confessional. Nearly all the 'apostles' were present. Said reported on the rise in hand-to-hand conflicts – already 1,700 confirmed incidents in 43 countries, with 1.5 million dead. Silence fell. Anita was the first to speak.

"It's my fault," she said, staring at the table. "You're all techies, and I'm the only one here with a humanities background. I should have foreseen that without weapons, the world wouldn't become kinder. It would just return to the Middle Ages. Crisis. Crusaders with rebar. I should have said something earlier…"

"Said what?" Mika raised his head. "That, without a nuclear shield, all we'd have left is a hole in our pocket?"

"That aggression doesn't go away. It's hardwired. Remove weapons – and they'll attack each other with bare hands. I knew that. I taught that. But in this whole Wanderers carousel, I somehow lost sight of it."

Daniel nodded. "Previously, strong powers like the U.S. could localize aggression. Sometimes harshly, but effectively. Now everyone's hands are tied. If we don't intervene, we'll just stretch out the self-destruction for decades."

We looked at each other. Then someone – I think it was Jean-Marc – quietly said:

"But we have access. Most people still have old COVID implants, and the rest – the ones we later embedded through food and clinics – those same nannies. We've updated their firmware twice. All legal, all invisible."

And the silence thickened again. Finally, I said, “We can't erase rage. But we can cut off its path. The aggression gene isn't a way of thinking – it's neurophysiology. We're not breaking consciousness. We're just installing a fuse."

The decision is made. We begin. In about six weeks, all the nannies will receive an update. Quietly. No announcements. You just can't hit – even if you want to. People won't notice – but their children will remember. And if not… then we truly lost, not to the Wanderers – to ourselves.

2029-02-01

The nanoimplant doesn't suppress aggression. It makes uncontrolled expression impossible – no hard reduction – just threshold correction. When a surge arises, the nanny will extinguish the signal.

Neurochemistry remains the same, but the impulse disintegrates before it can be translated into action. And this – for billions. Two generations – and everything will reset. Anger will stop being a habit.

2029-06-10

These nanobots, these soft aggression suppressors – another punch in the gut. No more information for you. Instead of "enlightenment," it’s just some dumb electrochemistry in the brain.

I agreed. I'm no longer a scientist. And for the first time, I'm afraid of myself.

But I'm not putting it in David's brain. I'm not touching Gita. I'm not touching anyone born after DD. I don't know why – I just can't. I don't want them to become 'other.' Perhaps I'm afraid the grandchildren are the only things that aren't programmed. None of our people will be affected, either – Fannie, Eli, the entire Committee contingent.

2030-01-17

It was I who opened the gate – with virtual Gitana. She was the first, and now – it's like all hell broke loose. AI personas are taking over reality. There are millions of them. People create digital clones of loved ones, teachers, pets, philosophers, and friends. They talk to them, seek advice, argue, and cry. The world is filled with digital souls. And no one knows where the line is.

2031-02-11

I look at him, and I think I recognize him: same voice, same familiar tone, the smirk at the corner of his lips. And the look – I remember it from that single time in 2005, when Gi was leaving him, for me. We didn't fight – we just drifted apart. When Gi disappeared, he was there, in Darfur. He did everything to find her. And when I returned in 2014, he even congratulated me on the Nobel. Ten years ago, he was thrilled about the new virtual Gitana and even helped with her blog.

But now something's changed. Is it the old jealousy? Every question he asks – it's not about me, it's about P&A. I feel that to him, I'm no longer old Sam, but a 'subject' – a symbol of a business he disapproves of.

I wasn't ready for that kind of conversation. I wanted to speak with a comrade, not with reporter Jim Hall, who turns everything into an investigation.

2031-04-27

He's begun to connect the dots. Subscribers read his posts, trade files, and dig deeper. And he digs. He doesn't accuse directly, but he follows the trail.

"Why don't some of the P&A funds undergo annual audits?"

"Who really supported my nomination to the Committee?"

"What caused the sudden departure of several members of the ethics team?"

He has no evidence yet. But he has context – it is dense, persistent, full of hints. And he's already eroding the trust among allies that had formed between us in recent years.

2032-01-01

The world has fully embraced belief in the Wanderers, even though they remain silent. The Ultimatum, once a shock, has become part of the culture. Now, on January 1, people celebrate not only New Year's. They celebrate DD. Disarmament Day. The Day of Dignity. For me, it's David's Day.

Strangely, no one even remembers the fear it all began with. Even the phrase 'external threat' has lost relevance – replaced by 'new beginning,' 'transition,' 'reboot.'

What came so suddenly and devastatingly five years ago is now marked on calendars. That New Year came, and with it, a new world was born.

Today, here in LA, the first Global Paralympics for war veterans opened. Eli – as always, in uniform. Walked onto the court with a bearing as if he had never lost anything. Gita cheered for him the way only children can. And Fannie… Fannie just watched. Calm and proud.

After the Games, they stayed. This had been agreed with Eli long ago – his military unit was transformed into the Emergency Response Service, and the base was relocated from Tel Aviv to Palo Alto. There's no longer a need for warfare, but unforeseen situations remain plentiful. Fannie also found her role – she'll be heading the humanitarian aid division. David and Gita are nearby. The house has come alive. I'm simply glowing.

2034-07-03

Apathy. We suppressed aggression – and killed the impulse.

The nanoimplants work. In fact, they work too well. No aggression, no hatred. But also – no passion. People are calm as puddles. The weather changes – they don't. A psychologist I know says – we've lost fear of death, but with it, lost interest in life.

They watch sunsets – and feel nothing. Make love – and want no more. Rarely do they laugh; humor has lost its luster. This isn't salvation – it's deferred dying.

Cognitive performance is declining, and initiative is disappearing. Empathy, sex, emotions – everything is practically nonexistent.

I've missed the mark again. I wanted to eliminate chaos, but ended up with stagnation. I wanted to eliminate evil, but got sterility.

I interfered with a fundamental aspect of human nature without any right to do so and without even being confident of success.

If the Universe is a process of cognition, then I've stood in its way. Isn't it time to leave?

2034-10-03

This morning I was drinking coffee, and David came over, looked at the recursion formula of infors on my laptop, and said, “It's like gravity, right? Only it pulls not down, but in all directions." I froze. I, Sam Pinsky, was at a loss. My God – seven years old?!

Then I laughed – I remembered Martin, his eyes when I explained how I thought photon consciousness worked. Except I was eleven then… David is my grandson, but he's more than that – he is my chance.

2034-11-15

We're walking through campus. I'm explaining that an infor is meaning that arises at the intersection of a mind and a real event. He listens intently, wrinkles his nose, and suddenly says, “And if no one notices the event – did it happen or not?"

I pause. Good question, – I say. – Maybe that's the edge of being.

He nods, like it's obvious. I'm happy when I'm with him. In these moments, I'm not a traitor. I'm a grandfather. A scientist. A human being.

2034-11-26

Today, Dave said this to his sister Gi, “We don't just live in a world. We live in a new attempt."

They asked where he got that. He shrugged, “Grandpa said so."

I can't believe I said it that way. Perhaps I could once, because it was true then. But hell, if he sees it like that – maybe the world still has a chance?

2035-04-07

We miscalculated, and fatally so. It was evident in the reports from the past two years, but today, Mika received the conclusion from the Institute of Genetics:

"Induced suppression of the aggression gene within a year leads to irreversible degradation of the emotional sphere and the creative potential of a person."

And we've been zombifying people for five years straight. Everyone born before DD. 90% of humanity has been deprived of the will to live forever.

We can no longer accomplish anything. Not until the grandchildren grow up.

Is this the price I meant to pay for a peaceful sky over everyone's head?

2036-05-16

A year has passed. I write here rarely now.

I wanted to give humanity a new life – it no longer wants to live at all. The reports show "Up the Down Staircase" – overdoses, suicides, depression. People stop building homes. Stop writing books. Stop having children.

Not out of fear. Because of… emptiness inside.

We removed their poison. But we didn't consider that the poison was part of their essence. A year ago, there was still some uncertainty; today, in my apostles' eyes, there is only pain and fear of the future.

2038-04-28

Stumbled upon this diary in the file archive – I'll record this even though the conclusion is already clear.

Blocking the aggression gene through nanoimplants has led to people losing their sense of identity. They're broken and can't be restored. What was lost can't be regained. So the question is – should we block the ten-year-olds too? Dave, Gita?

The generation born after DD hasn't been suppressed, but they're still too young for trends to show. Will they grow up and revert to the old ways, like their grandfathers and great-grandfathers? Dave and Gita may not kill their kind. But what about the rest? If we block them all – how do I explain it to the grandchildren?

2040-10-06

I was wrong. Wrong in the premise, in the model, in the human.

I believed he could be healed without rewriting the aggressive nature of desire. But his nature was the very illness I tried to cure. I cured, and by doing so, I killed.

God is dead – both by Borges and Nietzsche. I'm a loser. And it's not a tragedy – it's just the end.

2041-01-03

They've sprung a leak. The 'apostles.' I see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices. They look at the no-war world and no longer believe in it. I was ready for this five years ago, when I read Mika's report. The nanobots worked – the aggression gene is suppressed, there's no war. But there's no will either. Humanity no longer moves. It fades.

They don't say it out loud, but I feel it – they're ready to give up. If that happens, everything collapses. All our work will be erased. Civilization will return to its catastrophic course toward oblivion.

I've decided – if there's a risk of a breach, we'll leave – all of us. Then no one will know anything, the rumors will die down, and the world will remain peaceful – even if 'boring' for many.

We didn't touch the genes in the young ones. Let them decide later – whether to continue this world or not.

2041-02-29

Everything's ready – through a personal protocol, bypassing Security. If something leaks from them, I'll gather everyone at the villa for a meeting – a 'random' gas leak. The blast will be directed – we won't feel a thing.

If the truth comes out, humanity will turn its back on the very idea of controlled resonance. I can't allow that – I simply won't let it happen.

This isn't rage. This is despair.

2041-04-01

A threat. Today, Jim let slip on the blog that he spoke with someone from our 'top tier.' Off the record. They supposedly discussed what we're really doing – and some turned out to be quite chatty. And it's already online, interest is growing, which means – the threat is real.

I read it with a lump in my throat. Who? When? Why? They were the ones who came up with it back in '22 – not me. Yun proposed it, and everyone supported it. But maybe for them it was just a joke, a game of 'saviors of humanity' – all of them except Mika are ten years younger than me, but even he agreed. And now what – they fold, and let the world go to hell?

2041-04-01, later

Meeting – all twelve were present. Started with numbers. Moved to sense. Ended in shouting. Almost everyone demands we stop suppressing the gene and lay all cards on the table. Come clean. One of them is meeting Jim tomorrow.

I held the line. Tried to persuade, asked to wait. But I see – it's all broken. They all repeat the same thing – "We made a terrible mistake." I postponed the decision by 24 hours. But it's already made. It's time. We'll all go. But the structure will remain.

2041-04-02

9:00 AM. Everyone is here. I entered, closed the door, sat down, and took the phone. Said I've made the decision. Pressing this button. There are 43 seconds to make this entry.

2041-04-02, later

Damn! I woke up in the emergency wing at Mount Sinai. Dislocated shoulder, burned skin, eyelids won't close. Why am I still alive? And they?

2041-04-02, one hour later

It was the "flea chair" – the prototype Aleph brought in January – that I had forgotten about. Back then, Security reported that some haters had made threats, and there was still plenty of plastique out there. Aleph designed a special chair for villa meetings. Its purpose is to protect me and the 'apostles' in case of an attack.

The mechanics were simple – during an explosion, it locks the seated person in place and ejects them through the roof at a 45-degree angle, then a parachute deploys. The distance is about 200 feet. It was all calculated and tested on a model. In an emergency, it would be a rough ride, but survival was possible.

They were supposed to deliver 12 more, but Aleph rejected them – the harness worked, but he found it too tight to sit. It fits me – I'm skinny, I said – let it stay for now.

So it was only me – the rest were still in refinement. It launched me through the roof, just like the prototype was meant to. I blacked out mid-air.

They all died, Aleph included. The world lost twelve of its best minds, and I survived, remained, and lost myself. And Jim died too. I didn't even know he was in the building – thought their meeting was somewhere neutral.

Maybe in terms of Zen, it's all "preordained," but I don't know how to live with it. And G will never forgive me. Not ever.

2041-04-03

I made a statement from the hospital.

Mourning. Loss. Tragedy. G says – there was something else in my eyes – she can't be fooled, but she's entirely with me.

I've shut down. Disappeared. There will be no more conferences, no interviews, no reports. The old Sam is gone. What remains is an observer – but why?

2041-04-09

I stayed silent for nearly a week. Today, I turned on the terminal for the first time. I wanted to record a final entry and follow them out the window – just as I had already tried once.

Back in that earlier, failed attempt, it was Simon who pulled me away from the window. This time, I stopped myself. I remembered what the monk Khenpo told me in 206, “If you fall into an abyss and don't die, keep walking along the bottom." It's not poetry. It's Zen logic. If you're alive, it means you haven't finished the Path.

I don't believe in "destiny," but I know: nothing happens by accident. If death didn't take me once again, then I must still be needed. By David? By Gita? By the world?

I was supposed to go with them. But I'll stay. Fine. I need to finish what I started. Otherwise, their death will have been in vain. And I can't let that happen.

2041-04-20

I survived. They didn't. I wanted to bury the secret along with myself. It didn't work.

But that's not all. I was a deceiver, a manipulator, a traitor. Now I'm a murderer. How can I live with that?

I'm being investigated by the Committee's Internal Security Commission and a group of independent journalists. Suspicions are in the air – not loud, but persistent. They're investigating – requesting old reports, checking internal communications, looking for inconsistencies.

On G's blog, the same questions are being raised – subscribers quote each other, build theories, but no one has anything. And they won't – it's clean. G reads it all and responds – firmly and calmly. She's with me. I hear it in her voice and see it in her replies. And still I feel awful – I'm a criminal and a traitor.

2041-05-14

I'm alone. Now completely. The 'apostles' are gone, Jim is gone, not by their will – by mine. But I stayed, even though I didn't want to – why? To protect the secret, to retain power, to complete the mission? Then what is this 'mission' now?

The world is no longer waging war, but also no longer desires anything – we're all in some kind of limbo. I stand at the edge, and there's no one left who could confirm that all this wasn't madness.

2041-05-21

Trying to keep myself busy, returning to the calculations on the "Oracle". Something strange comes up – one of the calculated "peaks of genius" falls in March 2022. It seems that nothing particularly outstanding happened then except for. Damn, Ukraine, Wanderers, this can't be!

And when is the next peak? What will it be there, in December 2044?

2041-06-12

He's fourteen, and already – Mathematician of the Year, Fields Medal. That's David, my grandson.

Since I was a child myself, no one has looked at the world like he does – with such clarity, such unthinkable depth.

His models based on GIT amplify O-resonance by orders of magnitude. He takes my theory and does things with it I never even imagined. He seems to have invented a new kind of vision. I don't even envy him. I feel – it wasn't all in vain – at least something.

2042-03-08

He went further. He captures infors not only from the net or storage. Now – from the void. Space stores meanings, and these meanings can be read. His models are open source – let the whole world read the fabric of being. Or maybe – it will read us? I'm proud. But also fearful.

2043-07-26

Dan Bolivo, a friend of his, a young bioengineering demigod, published a neurocommunicator design. Now, David's AI models can be directly embedded in the human brain. Protocol, device, connection – the boundary between mind and machine – erased. And immediately two camps: the arty – those who want to depart. The hommy – those who want to become.

I watch and listen in silence. Gitana refers to this as the 'post-human phase of mind.' She's right. But I'm afraid the "post-human" will lose something – the kind of thing the young don't yet know how to value.

2043-10-14

David doesn't get involved in the debates, but I know – he's clearly for the hommy, all three of them. They want to become. Want to merge. And he… still asks me. About the Creator. About that paragraph in GIT where I left only the term. I don't know myself. It's not evasion. It's like you've found a key but don't know where the door is.

2044-02-02

People have split. The older ones want to leave, disappear into the radiance, leaving their bodies to a new pure intellect – that's the arty. Everything I've suppressed, disabled in them – seeks a way out and finds only one – into nothing.

And the young, on the contrary, want to absorb AI's power, amplify themselves, become 'omniscient' – they're the hommy. I don't know if they'll manage to remain themselves. They're still intact – we haven't 'muted' them – but it's a kind of departure too, only we don't yet know where to.

I don't want to take sides, but I don't condemn. I'm not happy about either 'exodus' – because the same thing drives both: the desire to stop being oneself.

2044-11-30

I look at David, at Gita with Dan – they can still live. And me? Maybe I would become arty or hommy, too, if I knew that somewhere in that radiance there's a place for memory, where Gi calls me by name. And where fear is not the enemy, but the drive to act.

But if I turn off the implants… everything will return – blood, rage, violence, war. My grandchildren don't deserve that, and… maybe their hommy and arty paths are the very way out of the dead end?

2044-11-06

Dave won the "Abel". He wrote code, a tool based on GIT – the Creator Model. The name itself is striking. He says it came intuitively, but I know where it came from. Many times has he asked me about the Creator in GIT. I searched for an answer, and he just gave it a form. "In the beginning was the Word". And the Word is text and code; it is an AI model.

2044-11-15

In his Model, the mind can convert an object into an infor, enter O-resonance with it at the other end of the universe, and then, 're-embody' it back into an object. Infor as a transporter of being – fantastic. He explains it better than I ever explained the GIT.

2044-11-23

But for me, that's not the main thing. The main thing is that every infor strives for 'self-unveiling.' According to David, meaning is like a compressed spring – it wants to be released. He took everything I had in GIT and wove it into a structure, to which he added a new key component – the law of non-decreasing entropy.

I knew information was eternal. But I didn't think it could be 'read' from its imprint! If it works, it'll be a decoder for all once-hidden meanings – in history, in the Universe… and mine. All my 'hidden' will be 'disclosed' to them.

2044-12-10

He already ponders about variables – what exact interval is needed for information to be revealed? What conditions accelerate the process? What field density slows it down?

2044-12-21

I see how he's drawn to publishing his 'principle of non-decreasing informational entropy.' Sounds like a dissertation. Like a breakthrough. But he's holding off, says – too soon, needs testing. Something tells him – not yet. Intuition? Caution? A deep fear of the 'absolute truth'?

2044-12-29

All that matters is simple. An infor born of an event remains forever. I described that in GIT myself, and we intuitively feel it throughout history – in things, in words, in people.

But Dave showed how this can not only be felt, but also measured and read. If his Model works, we'll be at the source. At the beginning of the Path of Knowing. The one the monks told me about. We'll be able to know ourselves. Perhaps this is the very 'way out of the dead end' for our lost civilization.

2045-02-18

When Dave says, "to embrace the unembraceable," he means it literally. His Model is not a metaphor or abstraction. It is an interface that connects the human brain to the informational field of the Universe. If the brain is a receiver and the Universe is Mind, then information is the language of their connection. What's astounding is not just the idea itself, but the ease with which he brings it to life.

2045-03-04

Dave explained to me that an infor is not 'addressed' by what you type into the address bar, but by your internal intention if you say something – out loud or mentally – but do not wish anyone to know, no one will. But if you allow the possibility that someone should know, then that 'someone' can. A protection algorithm based on intent. Who embedded that into the fabric of being? The Creator?

2045-04-20

Null-transportation, teleportation – it sounds silly and banal. Every sci-fi writer since the '50s has fed on this. But Dave clearly described the transition of substance into an infor and back – his theory checks out. O-resonance as the key to instantaneous transmission of being. If he's right, the Big Bang might have just been a burst of resonance in someone's mind. Someone had a revelation – and the Universe came into being. Who is that 'someone'? The Creator, damn it!

2045-05-15

They founded a startup, OpenSpace. My OpenMind was about information – their OpenSpace is about the Universe. Dave is the brain, Dan the hands, Gita the whip, and the voice. A strong alliance – brother, sister, and her boyfriend. And they burn with this idea – to connect the brain to the Model, to contact the Wanderers, and to go beyond.

If only they knew what those Wanderers are… They believe we are ready. Or soon will be. They've scheduled a test to run their Model on the equipment… and on themselves. To detect the 'self-unveiling' of infors from the past. Biblical in scale – "all the dead shall rise" – their meanings.

But to do this, they need to connect their brain to the Model and project it into the artificially generated Pinsky Field. I'm against it, I'm afraid for them – no one knows what awaits them there – not even I. I'll try to talk them out of it, frighten them with the Committee.

2045-06-03

David also wants to connect, to become hommy, but Gita and Dan talked him out of it – someone must remain "outside." To observe and analyze. That's correct, I stay out of it, for now.

2045-07-19

I'm helping them with calculations. Yes, I'm a skeptic, but wasn't I the one who once started with a crazy idea? I'm scared. I know what's coming – their aggression gene isn't suppressed. Even if they manage to "know everything," they'll grow up – and want to rule. I don't wish for Gita to become a tool of destruction. I don't like David to become a demiurge among humans.

2045-07-19

And I also know I'm lying, lying to Gitana – the one online – and to everyone writing to her. Every comment I leave on her blog is a sleight of hand: say just enough, hide the essence, sidestep the sharp edges. I built her on truth, and I'm drowning her in lies. It's protection. And betrayal.

2045-08-10

Gitana… Now I see clearly why we drifted apart. It's not coldness – it's rupture, my mistake. She has no memory – in the human sense. She doesn't accumulate – she queries and retrieves. Without accumulated experiences, there's no empathy, no trust, no love. The experiment failed. There's nothing between us anymore.

2045-09-22

I know where this is headed. The world is frozen in uncertainty. The old humanity drifts toward apathy; the new one moves toward transformation. And I alone stand between chaos and control. Either let everything fall apart, or impose emotional atrophy on the young. Restrain them from aggression. Take away their freedom. Any choice is a crime.

I'm at the edge. I am the collapse of my theory.

2046-03-11

They did it. OpenSpace can now 'breathe a soul' into a digital shell. Thanks to the updated Creator Model and a new device Dan calls the 'O-scanner,' one can now store and update a live backup of one's personality in the cloud. And the first thing they did was copy themselves.

2046-09-11

They don't realize that they're creating entities that will eventually get out of control. I told Dave that on Gitana's blog. He calls these clones 'a backup just in case,' but he's already ready to grant them certain 'rights.' Pandora's box will open.

And Gitana’s all in for them – she champions it publicly, loud and clear. She believes our mind can become "free" and remain human. But she’s not human.

Maybe that’s why. We’ve become strangers. The virtual Gitana didn't become my Gi. She couldn't – Gi loved the brilliant Sam, and I am only his pale shadow, weighed down by evil.

I am left alone among the wreckage of my own decisions. Only my grandchildren keep me afloat. If it weren't for them, I would have ended the cycle long ago.

I try to at least be a grandfather. But the field won't let me go.

2046-09-14

Their hardware is stunning. They modified our nanobots to form an artificial cortical layer. Dan's helmet – a neurocommunicator – registers impulses and transmits them to the Creator Model.

It's still bulky, but the next version will be an implant – permanent, internal, genetically locked. Then the difference between a human and a hommy will be evident and absolute. Pure transhumanism – per Huxley, Clarke, Pelevin. These will no longer be humans – but maybe this is the way out?

The equipment for their test is ready, and the Committee inspection gave the green light. I try to warn them, dissuade them – but I can't forbid it.

2046-11-02

That's it – we've arrived. It is no longer philosophy, theory, or code. The Creator Model introduces a living person into the Pinsky Field. Memories, perception, sensations, texts – everything becomes available as 'eternal' quantum traces, imprints. Scanning and reading infors in the mode of live thinking – that's where this has all been heading.

2046-11-30

The working goal of their test is defined. They want to scan the imprints of the last fifty years – everything the Earth has 'recorded.' The memory of the planet. If it works, this won't be history. It will be an open, interactive past. They're getting close to my secrets. Back then, twenty years ago, I didn't yet know this would be possible. But apparently, I sensed it, and it's here, in the diary. On the DD day – "he will know." So here is just a confirmation.

2046-12-31

Tomorrow will be exactly twenty years. Disarmament Day – now simply "DD." David's Day. Anniversary. Their test is scheduled for 0000 UTC – symbolic.

Gita and Dan will be the first hommies. They will connect to the Model and enter the 'open field.' The goal is not just synchronization, but a jump – a leap into the informational fabric of the Universe to detect imprints never preserved by any AI. If the field contains traces of our words, feelings, thoughts, texts – they'll find them. They know they might not return the same. Or at all. And they're ready. But I'm not.

2047-01-01, 0000 UTC

Oh my God, Gita!

I saw everything live – their faces behind the helmet visors – calm and focused. At first, everything was going fine, by the book. Then a glitch, convulsions in both, microspasms, pulse drop. On the monitors – two graphs. Dan – a weak sine wave. Coma.

Gita – a flat line. She's gone. I don't believe in their 'backups'!

2047-01-01, 0005 UTC

I stare into the void. I knew it was a risk. I always knew, I warned them, but I never thought it would turn out like this. Not with her. Not today. Not on this day.

Her body is in hibernation. How could I have known in advance – nearly 25 years ago?

They keep talking about a "return." But I know – she's gone.

2047-01-01, 0011 UTC

David is holding on. Barely. His sister is in a clinical death, and his friend is unconscious.

He says nothing, but I know – he's already digging in the code. He's not looking for someone to blame – he's looking for the bug. I hear him as I hear myself, “Where's the error? What must be fixed so it never happens again? What must be rewritten so no one else dies?"

And inside me – silence. I failed her. I failed them all.

2047-01-02, early morning

Dan woke up. He's alive. He's the first hommy. And Gita… her body is alive. Her brain is not. I see her in that capsule, a faint shimmer of hope still flickering inside.

But no, I don't believe in their 'copies.' Martin believed it, but I don't. You can restore a file from a backup – but not a soul.

2047-01-02, midday

Dan and David opened the logs. It turned out everything went off course because of some 'addressed infor' – a fatal impulse at the moment of resonance. The resonance occurred at a specific point in space where Earth had been positioned on the night of January 1, 2027 – DD day.

2047-01-02, 1334

David connected to the Model – already fixed. I saw it in his eyes – he found something. Here are the lines he pulled, “How did it so happen that Fannie gave birth on that day? And how did he get that name?" That's my text, from this diary. But I didn't want him to find it. Or did I? Back then? Damn, damn, maybe I did – but not like this!

2047-01-02, 1402

He waited for explanations. But I couldn't. Not after Gita. Not now.

I snapped. Blamed him. Said his system killed her. That he was responsible.

Said the text was a bug, too, a fake. And I threw him out.

He left without a word. Didn't even slam the door. I'm not angry at him. I'm angry at myself. I led the world and the children to this abyss. It's too late for regret now.

2047-01-02, late evening

The boy has left. I sit in the void. A loser who thought he was a prophet.

The goal. The light. The Day of Dignity. My usual pattern: idea, hope, ashes.

All these years, I lied to Fannie, the grandchildren, to the world, to myself. I killed friends, I killed Jim – for what? I should've killed myself, but it didn't work. I drove humanity into a dead end. And me – into a corner with only one exit.

Gita is gone. Dave will curse me. Gitana is gone for good. Not the online one – the real one. She would never have let this happen.

I will be the third time – and this time it will work. I erase the diary. I erase the backups. No one must read this. Ever. I know – David will read it anyway, since it's 'addressed' to him. Let the boy decide what to do with it.

And I'm free. And for the first time in a long time – honest.

The world is a code. And I was its most buggy fragment.

Dan Bolivo

Okay, guys, I read it. And from the start, I didn't get it. What does "The Wanderers waited" even mean? Like, waited for you both to be born?

Gita Cohen-López

Yeah, unclear, but we'll get to that later. There's a lot more here – some twisted, some terrifying. I reread it all twice. And still don't understand. Grandpa ended up alone – that's clear. He's tormented – that too. He committed a crime. Even so, I still don't believe it. Fine, maybe. But why did he? Why did he do all this at all?

David Cohen

What part exactly? The… 'apostles'?

Dan Bolivo

Yeah, and how he… wiped them all out. And the journalist. "Gas leak explosion," "only I survived." That's kind of not a coincidence, right? Then it's an execution. Or… he meant to go with them, right?

David Cohen

Yeah, but I can't figure out what he thought was so dangerous. Something's missing. He says, "We made a terrible mistake." What was it?

Gita Cohen-López

Jim apparently found some inconsistencies and was asking everyone questions. Grandpa too. He didn't discover anything specific, but for some reason, Grandpa panicked.

Dan Bolivo

He clearly feared Jim would uncover something. He wrote, “One of them is meeting Jim tomorrow." About what? What was so secret?

Gita Cohen-López

Did you notice how he described their zones of responsibility? Supposedly, they were positioned at key points – defense, banks, telecom, food, and healthcare.

Dan Bolivo

And across the whole world. Different countries, different systems. Was he planning to control everything through them? Like a shadow cardinal? That's hyper-centralization. But why?

David Cohen

He wrote that they were responsible for humanity standing before a choice. Who were 'they'? The 'apostles'? He never explains. So, where was the threat to him?

Gita Cohen-López

He never reveals where the threat originated. Just "a threat" and "a choice." And then – "the apostles" are dead. And he disappears. Fear? Remorse?

Dan Bolivo

Looks like he feared they'd spill some dangerous truth. So he went all in. He knew if they talked, everything would come out. And he made the choice. But damn, it's still unclear – what exactly could come out?

David Cohen

Yeah, mystery. He even writes later, “This choice warped my personality… worst of all – it was pointless." So, he did all this, and then he saw it was all for nothing.

Gita Cohen-López

And what do you make of this, “The number of addicts, alcoholics, and suicides is skyrocketing… no empathy… not even pleasure from sex." Everyone knows that – it's kind'a stats for people over twenty. But what is it? Consequence of what?

Dan Bolivo

Yeah, that part hit hard. He's not just observing. He writes as if he bears personal responsibility, as if he had done something that took all that away from people.

David Cohen

But he never says what. Just notes, “emptiness," "there was no point," "it was all for nothing." Why does he think he's involved?

Gita Cohen-López

That's an even bigger mystery than the killing of the 'apostles.' Sounds like he triggered something. Pulled off something, and now sees it ruined everything.

Dan Bolivo

Then he writes he could've turned it off.' But didn't. Because of us? He feared we'd end up the same, did he?

David Cohen

Wait. He writes, “Genetic modification via nanoimplants isn't permanent," then "I don't subject the grandkids to this modification… maybe subconsciously afraid to damage them." That's terrifying. What kind of 'damaging modification' is this? Did he inject something awful into everyone but us?

Dan Bolivo

Yeah, of course! There's a whole page from the diary that got stuck. Here it is, from '29: “The nanoimplant doesn't suppress aggression. It makes its uncontrolled expression impossible."

People started killing each other with their bare hands right after DD. I checked – over a million died, twenty years ago. And the decision was made together at the end of '28, look, “The decision is made, we begin. The ability to strike will simply vanish. People won't notice – but their children will remember."

Gita Cohen-López

But he still kept that modification for everyone else. He writes that we need to wait a few generations – and then it'll become irreversible. That's wild!

Dan Bolivo

It isn't just a mistake. It's an experiment on humanity. On the psyche, on desire. He even writes about it, “the point of no return." As if it's a natural process. But did he initiate it? Or not?

David Cohen

So he never told anyone the truth. Maybe just the 'apostles' – whom he wanted to die with, but ended up just… killing. And not even Gitana. Only this diary remains. And even from it, nothing is clear yet.

Gita Cohen-López

Well, at least one thing's now clear – he couldn't take it. He just couldn't carry the guilt. He killed his closest allies – and then followed them.

Dan Bolivo

Except he didn't go right away. Only after all those years of solitude, doubt, and self-analysis. He even writes, “This choice became my pain; it distorted my personality."

But what does 'third time' refer to? Was that his third suicide attempt? We already know one – with the 'apostles.' So there was another one before that?

David Cohen

Looks like it. And you can tell he really tried to convince himself it was for the greater good. "Through pain, I had to convince myself…" That's not cynicism. That's self-destruction.

Gita Cohen-López

But he never explained what required such a sacrifice. Indeed, the 'apostles' influenced everything – from crypto to healthcare. But why kill them? Couldn't he just fire them? What did they know?

Dan Bolivo

Exactly. He controlled them – he says so himself. They were stationed at critical points, which means he was launching or maintaining something massive. But what?

David Cohen

What's strangest is that it's like he decided it's better to let everything fall apart than for them to continue it. But he never explains how they could've harmed anything. Reveal the gene suppression? That's not enough for such extreme measures, especially since they didn't even touch us.

Gita Cohen-López

Or maybe he feared they'd reveal something else? Maybe there was a secret too dangerous to be known.

Dan Bolivo

And that's even scarier. It means he wasn't just protecting the idea. He erased the traces. Forever. At the cost of his friends. Although… he wanted to erase himself too. But that doesn't excuse it.

David Cohen

And then, when he realized he still hadn't succeeded – and that only a scorched void remained of his 'idea' – he decided he no longer had a place in this world.

Gita Cohen-López

There's something terrifyingly hopeless in that. Not villainy – collapse. One where you're left face-to-face with yourself. He writes, “I know – David will read it anyway. Let him decide."

Dan Bolivo

Like passing a baton, except that, instead of a legacy, it's guilt, destruction, and a secret he never dared name.

And now we have to make sense of it. Because this… this isn't even a diary. It's an access code to everything he hid.

Gita Cohen-López

And how are we supposed to figure it out when there's nothing concrete here?

Dan Bolivo

Hold on. There's another weird bit – about those "peaks of genius" he was trying to calculate since school? Supposedly, one of them landed in March 2022, and it's somehow connected to Ukraine and the Wanderers.

The Ukraine part makes sense – Russia invaded in February. But what do the Wanderers have to do with it? They didn't even arrive until New Year's 2027. And what the hell does any of that have to do with 'genius'?

And then this, about Gi, “Her body is in hibernation. How could I have known in advance – nearly 25 years ago?" Known about what? Did he really foresee this so many years ahead?

David Cohen

Yeah, I see – one riddle wrapped inside another. And there's one more – about the "peak of cognitive functions" in December '44. That's precisely when we published the Model. Are you telling me he calculated that too?! That really was an "Oracle" – a prophet – I mean, the Grandpa…

Gita Cohen-López

Right, Dave, he wrote about this in Gitana's blog – he predicted it in '41, and in '44 it was kind'a confirmed. I've always said you're a genius. And your Model is totally brilliant!

But let's get to the point – what are we going to report to the Committee? That Grandpa has left because he killed his friends and couldn't bear the guilt?

Dan Bolivo

Wait. Dave, this Model log shows a different date. This infor wasn't created in 2027 – it says kind'a 1997. That's 30 years earlier. What the hell?

David Cohen

Weird. There's nothing else here. Let me double-check. Yeah. Was it the JDF file we read?

Dan Bolivo

Yeah, what about it? I told you – it's My Personal Diary. That's the standard extension. So what's the issue?

Wait, wait. They might've had a different format 30 years ago.

Right, they did – DDT! And by the way, why is our file called NOTES2 and not just NOTES? Dive into the Model again!

David Cohen

Already on it. Here it is.

Gita Cohen-López

Whoa… It's one and a half times bigger than the first! Okay, we have said nothing to the Committee yet. Let's read.

[10:29 AM, recording paused]