Facets

Medical journal entry by Dr. Anna Volkova, neurologist at City Hospital #7 Date: March 15, 2024 Something happened today that makes me reconsider everything I knew about consciousness and coma. Patient M., 34 years old, was admitted to us six months ago after a severe stroke. Diagnosis: locked-in syndrome-- complete paralysis with consciousness. But yesterday his wife told me a strange story. She said she was dreaming about her late mother, who was sending messages from her husband. Details that only he knew. Secrets she never told anyone. At first I put it down to grief and stress. But this morning, nurse Irina came to me in tears. She had a dream about her dead father, who said: “Marcus wants me to tell you that he knows about the blue ring in the desk drawer.” Irina turned pale. That ring was a memory of the son she had lost. She had never told anyone about it. And the day before, she had accidentally touched Patient M.'s hand while adjusting his IV. I'm beginning to believe in the impossible: that consciousness can exist outside the body, travel through dreams, find ways to communicate even from the depths of coma. But if this is true...what else does Marcus see in our dreams? What secrets does he learn?

Lieutenant Rico stands in a half-destroyed bunker on Klendathu, looking at what should have been the greatest trophy of the war—a live Brain Bug. The first in the history of the conflict. His squad lost half its members capturing this creature, but Military Intelligence promised that neural extraction from its brain would end the war. But the impossible happens. The beetle does not emit its usual psychic screams of rage. Instead, images as clear as memories flood Rico's consciousness: human ships arriving at peaceful Arachnoid worlds. Terraformers burning their cities. Billions of arachnid children buried under colonization machines. An asteroid flying towards Buenos Aires — not the first strike, but a desperate response. The Bug tries to communicate. His emotions flow into Rico's mind — the sadness of a parent who has lost his children. The fear of a disappearing species. Hope for understanding. Humanity started this war by invading other worlds. The arachnids were just defending themselves. But the orders are clear: deliver the prisoner for neural extraction. The procedure will destroy the Bug's mind, but it will provide tactical data for the final strike against the arachnids. The commander is already calling for transport. Rico understands: in his hands is not just a prisoner, but the last chance for two species to find peace instead of mutual destruction. But the choice between a soldier's duty and a human's conscience could cost him his life — in the Federation, communicating with the enemy is punishable by death. The Bug touches his consciousness again, conveying a final message: “Choose... understanding... or... destruction...”

Our wonderful friend @ROMBER has given us a gift to raffle off: https://t.me/nft/XmasStocking-35894 But just raffling it off... That's kind of boring, isn't it? Let's have a little fun. The first person to write the name of the person in the picture will receive this gift. LFG

You are the chief analyst of the ARGUS AI system, a benevolent predictive analytics system designed to prevent terrorist attacks. Unlike military AI, ARGUS has built-in ethical restrictions: it cannot directly harm civilians, cannot violate privacy without a warrant, and cannot act without human validation. At 14:47 today, ARGUS detected a critical threat: a terrorist cell plans to blow up a shopping center at 18:00. The victims are more than 3,000 people, including children. Conventional methods won't work - you don't have time for warrants, evidence or evacuation. ARGUS offers three solutions, but each requires violating its founding principles. The system is waiting for your decision, and the clock is ticking. What's more important - people's lives or the moral principles that make us human? ___ //-/-SAMARITAN ACTIVE-\-\\ [ LAUNCH ] YES / NO ... Execute...

It's a quiet night. Ray's Diner, a roadside diner. 24-year-old Walter Mackenzie is on his way to his best friend's wedding with an engagement ring in his pocket — he plans to propose to his girlfriend Katie tomorrow. Everything is perfect: a dream job at his father's company, his parents' approval, plans for the future. On a deserted highway, the car stalls. Walter walks to the only building with lights on — an old-fashioned diner, where an elderly man in a red shirt sits behind the counter. “Welcome to Ray's, son. I'm Ray.” The man holds out a deck of cards. ‘Want to see a trick?’ Ray shows a card — the queen of hearts. He turns it over. Now it's the queen of spades, but red. “See the red spade? Most people see what they expect to see. But you, Walter, can see the truth. The question is, are you ready for it?" Ray places two boxes of pills on the table. “The blue pills are 'Clarity.' One pill reveals the truth about anyone within a mile. Real thoughts, hidden motives, true feelings. It lasts for an hour. The red pills are 'Comfort.' They remove all doubts, anxieties, fears. You will become absolutely confident in the correctness of all your decisions. Forever.“ ”But that's...” “Magic? Chemistry? What's the difference?” Ray smiles. ‘Tomorrow your life will change forever. You'll marry the girl you ’love,‘ get a job you ’like,' become what your parents want you to be. But first, you can learn the truth. Or remain blissfully ignorant forever. The first rays of dawn are visible outside the window. In two hours, Walter is supposed to be at his friend's wedding. Katie will be there. His parents. His entire future life.

We tried to participate in a contest from Not Games - Not AI Contest. Unfortunately (or fortunately) we didn't win. For myself I promised - if the game doesn't attract attention of Open Builders team - I will make it Open Source. The main task, as you could understand from the contest description, was to make a game or concept using AI. We took the hard way - we tried to make a full-fledged game. Honestly, it was not easy, as we are not professional developers. But fortunately, AI now allows us to do things that no one could even dream of 2-3 years ago. You just need to go deeper. Our game was painfully simple and perfectly suited the concept of Not Games: a card game where 2 players fight on the battlefield. But the concept didn't catch on. Well, on the one hand, it's a shame, because we spent a lot of time working on neural networks to develop the game, but on the other hand, there were probably more worthy candidates. It is not for us to judge, we will just be biased in this matter. Okay, a lot of words, not much to do. You can try the game here: @braverounds_bot Open Source: https://github.com/BaRRyS3R/Afterglow Use, learn, develop. Do whatever you want. Yes, the code is not perfect from the side of a professional developer, and it is logical, because AI has not reached the peak of its development yet. Nevertheless - this game can show what AI is capable of at this stage with proper skill and persistence. Love to everyone, and may you succeed in all your ideas. P.S. in the bot itself, if suddenly someone wants to really play with someone - in multiplayer mode the server needs to wake up, and it will take about 5 minutes.

Emergency call center. 2:30 a.m. Dispatcher Alexei Morozov has been working the night shift for eight months. After being fired from the police force for abuse of authority, this was the only job he could find. Tomorrow he has a court hearing for the case that ruined his career. A call comes in. A woman's voice, barely audible: “Hello? Help... I've been kidnapped... I'm in a car... I don't know where...” “What's your name? Describe what you see.” "Irina... Irina Volkova... There's a forest outside the window... We're driving on the highway... He doesn't know I've woken up...” Alexei checks the database — Irina Volkova, 28 years old, divorced, has a 6-year-old son, Dima. She lives alone after divorcing her alcoholic husband. “Who kidnapped you?” "I don't know... A stranger... He broke into the apartment... My son is at home... God, my son is home alone!” Alexei sends a patrol to her address and begins to track possible routes. But something in the woman's voice alarms him. She speaks strangely, as if reading from a piece of paper. Twenty minutes later, a call comes in from the scene: "Morozov, this is strange. The apartment is locked from the inside. The child is alone, but he... he's dead. Strangled. And there are traces of blood. Alexei's heart sinks. He calls Irina back: “Irina, where is your son?” A long pause. Then a breaking voice: "I... I didn't want to... He was crying... crying all the time... saying he wanted his dad... And I can't take it anymore... I'm tired...” The truth collapses like a house of cards. There is no kidnapper. Irina killed her son in a fit of mental disorder, and then made up a story about the kidnapping to create an alibi for herself. But now she is behind the wheel, driving in an unknown direction, and she clearly has suicidal intentions. “Alexei... help me... I didn't mean to... What should I do now?" Alexei has her coordinates. He can send the police there to arrest her. He can try to persuade her to surrender. ___ Or... he can try to save her from herself, knowing that she is a child murderer.

15 years ago. Elena Morales, a 23-year-old teacher, was raped and murdered in a Palermo park. Detective Martin Vasquez gathered ironclad evidence against Santiago Ramirez, the son of a powerful Supreme Court judge. DNA, witnesses, videotapes - everything pointed to him. But the case was dropped. Evidence disappeared from the vault. Witnesses “forgot” their testimony. The videotapes were “damaged.” Judge Eduardo Ramirez used every connection to protect his son. Martin was transferred to the disorderly conduct unit. Attempts to reopen the investigation were blocked. A year later, he resigned from the force. Career ruined, family broken up. Today. Martin works as a private investigator. Drinks. Blames himself for not getting justice for Elena. An anonymous call comes in on a rainy evening: - Detective Vasquez? Santiago Ramirez has killed again. 26-year-old nurse Clara Espinosa. Same M.O. as Elena Morales. I have proof-- photos, notes, DNA. But I'm afraid to go to the police. - Who are you? - That's not important. What matters is that in two weeks, the judge sends Santiago on a “business trip” to Paraguay. It's really an escape. The evidence is hidden in Box 247 at Grand Central Station. Martin looks at Elena's picture on the desk. In the drawer is an old service pistol. ___ Outside the window it starts to rain. Just like it did 15 years ago.

In the bowels of a former skyscraper turned into the world's most brutal prison, a simple principle applies: the higher the level, the better the life. Dr. Elena Vasquez, a former government auditor, never thought she would end up in “The Vertical,” an experimental prison system where 2,000 inmates are placed on 200 levels based on their “social value.” Elena uncovered a billion-dollar corruption scheme involving the highest echelons of government. For this she was declared an “extremist” and sentenced to 25 years in the Vertical. The system works in a ruthlessly simple way: every day a platform of food comes down from the top to the bottom. Level 1 - luxury apartments for political prisoners with connections who receive delicacies. Level 200 are metal cages for “enemies of the state” where only crumbs reach. The upper levels are home to corrupt senators, oligarchs, judges - those who got caught but retained influence. Their cells are more like hotels. The middle levels (50-150) are inhabited by common criminals: murderers, drug dealers, gang leaders. They get enough food to stay strong and maintain order through violence. The lower levels (150-200) are political prisoners, journalists, activists, informers. They slowly starve to death in 2x2 meter metal cages. Elena is on level 167. Sitting next to her are Maria, a teacher who reported embezzlement of school funds, James, a doctor who refused to falsify medical reports, and Thomas, a journalist who wrote about police corruption. For six months Elena watched the system devour people. Every day the platform whizzed past their level almost empty. People were starving to death, seeing their tormentors enjoying gourmet meals upstairs. And then a miracle of technological advancement occurred: a computer glitch gave Elena administrative access to the platform's control system. For thirty days she could reprogram the food distribution before the system automatically rebooted. The monitor in her cell popped up with data on all the prisoners: Levels 1-50: Senator Morrison ($50 million in bribes), Judge Collins (sentencing trafficking), oligarch Petrov (money laundering), General Smith (illegal arms trafficking). They have outside connections, money, influence. Levels 50-150: Serial killer Jones (37 victims), drug lord Garcia (controlled half the city), terrorist Ali (blew up a school), maniac Brown (tortured children). They maintain order in the prison through fear. Levels 150-200: Journalists, doctors, teachers, activists - all those who tried to fight corruption and ended up here for the truth. Elena knew: her choices would determine who survived the next 30 days. She could feed the corrupt politicians and gain freedom through their connections. She could try to save the innocents below. She could establish justice through equality. Or bring down the system completely. ___ 2,000 lives depended on the decision of a woman who once believed in justice.

Dr. Sarah Chen never planned to become a monster. A brilliant psychologist and extreme stress specialist, she wanted to understand the limits of the human psyche so she could help soldiers cope with PTSD. When the government offered her the opportunity to lead a classified program to study psychological resilience, Sarah accepted without hesitation. The Obsidian-7 facility in the Nevada desert. Unlimited funding, state-of-the-art equipment, and one hundred test subjects - men on death row for capital offenses. The state has offered them a deal: participation in the experiment instead of execution. The survivors would receive life imprisonment. Eighteen months of studying the human psyche at its most extreme. Isolation, sleep deprivation, moral dilemmas under duress, group dynamics under stressful conditions. Sarah had observed how the mind adapts to unbearable pressures, where the line between resilience and withdrawal is drawn. But the experiment also changed her. Every day, the subjects became more and more numbers to her, variables in equations, sources of data. Their suffering became scientific information. When one committed suicide, Sarah felt not sympathy but annoyance - a valuable source of data had been lost. In a year and a half, out of a hundred subjects, seven committed suicide, three suffered irreversible mental disorders, and four fell into catatonia. But the others evolved - became more cold-blooded, inventive, learned to manipulate even Sarah herself. The experiment was to end in six months. Sarah could already see herself on the covers of scientific magazines. And then came a letter from the Pentagon. Budget cuts. The program is being shut down early. Warden Robert Harvey explained with soldierly candor: “Doctor, we need 25 subjects for the final phase. The other 75 are surplus. You decide how to optimize that. No one has seen anything, no one knows anything.” Sarah stood in her office, holding a list of a hundred names. The security cameras were off. No oversight. No accountability. 24 hours to decide. In that moment, Dr. Sarah Chen realized that the experiment had changed more than just the subjects. It had changed her. And now she herself was now part of the darkest study of human nature. The list in her hands shook not with fear. It trembled with excitement.

The year is 2157. The Earth has become a scorched wasteland where billions of people live in the slums of megacities. Above them, like a mockery, rotates the space station “Elysium” - a paradise for the chosen, where the elite enjoy perfect life and immortality thanks to medical capsules that can cure any disease in seconds. Dr. Alex Rivera works in an underground clinic in Los Angeles, watching people die every day from diseases that on Elysium are cured at the touch of a button. Cancer, AIDS, congenital abnormalities all disappear in the station's medical capsules, but only for those born with Elysium citizenship. That all changed when the Prometheus hacker group was able to hack into one of the station's most secure systems. They gained access codes to Elysium's central medical AI, the program that controls all the healing capsules. But the code turned out to be incomplete. The system would only allow the capsules to be activated for a limited number of people - a maximum of 100,000 people at a time. After that, there will be an emergency shutdown and access will be lost forever. Alex is holding a flash drive with the codes on it. An epidemic of a new mutation of the virus is raging in the city, with thousands dying every day. The children's hospital has 50,000 terminally ill children. The research center employs 30,000 of the best scientists on the planet, who could find a cure for all mankind if they survive. And on the outskirts of the city, 500,000 old and sick people are slowly fading away in refugee camps. Alex has data on the whereabouts of each group. Elysium's medical capsules can save any of them, but only one group will have to be chosen. The others are doomed. ___ Heaven is not on earth.

Caroline Ellis, tired of hospice work, accepts a tempting offer: to care for Benjamin Devereux, a stroke victim living in an old mansion in the middle of the Louisiana swamps. His wife Violetta, an elderly woman with a piercing gaze and a Creole accent, greets her with gratitude and hands her the key to all but one of the doors - the attic. “There are too many painful memories there,” she says. At first everything seems ordinary: the nursing care, the routines, the quiet surroundings. But soon Caroline notices strange things: there are no mirrors in the house, Violetta insists on cooking Benjamin's meals herself, and his gaze is too meaningful - as if he understands everything. One day Caroline finds a secret passage to a “closed” attic room. There - an altar, dolls made of moss and twigs, bottles of powders, old photos and diaries with records of rituals reminiscent of hoodoo. She also finds files of previous caregivers: sudden dismissals, mysterious illnesses, several deaths under strange circumstances. Caroline learns that the current “Benjamin and Violetta” have lived in the house for decades, but have hardly aged at all, and their arrival coincided with the disappearance of the previous owners - the Devereux couple, who died shortly after the dismissal of the servants, accused of witchcraft. The real shock is when Benjamin uses his eyes to beg for help: “NOT HERE. HELP. LOCKED.” - and whispers the word, “BODY.” Later, Caroline hears Violette speak in a mixture of French and English about a “new vessel” and “the right time.” Her colleague Luc, who previously helped with the paperwork, is now suspicious: he has been calling Violette frequently, has rewritten the will in her favor, and his behavior has become strange. When Caroline loses contact and access to the car, and Violetta speaks of tomorrow's new moon as an “important date”, she realizes: she is in mortal danger. It's up to her to run or act before it's too late.

For eight years, Willie Thompson has been working as Santa Claus in shopping malls - the perfect cover for the robberies he pulls off with partner Marcus, a smart and calculating midget played by an elf. Every year at Christmas, they rob stores when the guards on duty are minimal. This year, their target is Pinnacle Mall in Phoenix: a large mall with a wealthy store that accumulates huge amounts of cash before the holidays. The plan is simple: three weeks of undercover work, learning the security system, the codes to the safes - and a raid the night before Christmas. But this time, things don't go according to plan. Into their lives bursts eight-year-old Thurman Merman, a naive, good-hearted boy convinced that Willy is the real Santa. His mother has disappeared, his grandmother is working late, and he himself clings to Willy with touching faith. “Santa, will you come to my house for Christmas?” - he asks. These words painfully prick Willy's long-silenced conscience. Marcus is annoyed, “The boy's too clingy. He'll remember everything. We need to get the hell out of here and move to the backup plan in Denver.” But Willy suddenly feels a protective attachment to Thurman. Things get complicated when Thurman reveals that his grandmother keeps $8,000 - their entire savings - in a tin can under her bed. And security guard Gene Slagel and manager Bob Cipesca begin to suspect something. “We're being herded. Either we get out now or we go to jail,” Marcus keeps saying. That same night, Willy learns the truth: Grandma isn't working late - she's selling off her personal belongings to give her grandson his dream toy train. And Thurman wants Santa to give her something because she's sad and hiding how hard her life is. On Christmas Eve, Willy is faced with a choice. Steal the money and disappear? Drop everything and start over? Or pull a scam so that Grandma will be rewarded for preventing a “robbery” and save their Christmas? ___ Marcus is already in the car. Safe's open. Thurman is waiting for Santa. And Willy is holding a child's drawing - “Santa Willy,” bringing joy to the family.

A new batch of daily questions will start 23.05 at 00:00 MSC 😐

Twelve mysterious spacecraft have appeared across the globe — from Montana to Sudan, from Venezuela to China. Massive, obsidian, vertically oriented ellipsoids hover silently above the Earth. They’ve made no hostile moves, yet their presence has thrown the world into chaos. Financial markets have crashed, religious fervor is spreading, and military forces are on high alert. Dr. Eleanor Shaw, a linguist specializing in non-Indo-European languages, was urgently transported to the Montana site. “We need someone who can talk to them,” Colonel Weber explained curtly. For six weeks, Eleanor has led the U.S. first-contact team, gradually establishing communication with the beings she calls the "Visionaries" — named for their unique perception of time. They communicate through circular symbols that convey entire concepts instantaneously. As she immersed herself in their language, Eleanor began experiencing strange “memories” of the future — conversations yet to happen, relationships not yet formed, and even a daughter she doesn’t have. Yesterday, she finally understood the purpose of the Visionaries’ visit: they offer humanity a “gift” — their language, which enables non-linear perception of time. But the gift comes with a cost: those who learn it will see future joys and inevitable sorrows, powerless to change them but able to prepare. Meanwhile, the world is fracturing. China and Russia have broken protocol and turned to aggressive interrogation. General Becker intercepts a message: China plans to attack their vessel within 24 hours. From her future memories, Eleanor knows this — if even one ship is attacked, they will all leave, and the gift will be lost forever. A crucial decision lies ahead. Scientists see a revolution in understanding, psychologists warn of mass disorientation, and the military fears a hidden weapon. Eleanor has seen her future — a daughter she will choose to have, despite knowing she will die young. In twelve hours, Eleanor must deliver humanity’s answer to beings who already know what she will say — and yet, the choice is still hers.

General Francis Drake, a decorated veteran with 30 years of service to his country, has become disillusioned with the government's treatment of soldiers who died during classified operations. Their families were denied rightful benefits, their sacrifices unacknowledged, their deaths officially "non-existent." After years of fighting through proper channels and witnessing the suicide of a fallen comrade's widow who couldn't support her children, Drake decided to take radical action. With a team of 15 loyal special forces operatives who shared his grievances, Drake has seized control of Alcatraz Island during a VIP tour, taking 81 civilians hostage. Among the hostages are the mayor's daughter, three foreign diplomats, and a school group of children on a field trip. Drake's team has positioned VX gas rockets aimed at downtown San Francisco – a nerve agent so lethal that a single canister could kill everyone within a five-mile radius in minutes. Drake's ultimatum is simple: $100 million in compensation to be distributed to the families of soldiers who died on classified missions, and official recognition of their service. He has given the government 36 hours to comply before launching the rockets. "This isn't terrorism," Drake announced in a broadcast. "This is justice for those who gave everything for a country that then erased them." Intelligence reports confirm that Drake's team has indeed acquired military-grade VX gas. Even more troubling, they've modified the delivery systems with deadman switches – if any of the rockets are tampered with, or if Drake himself is killed, all rockets will automatically launch. The team has also mined the entire island with explosives as a secondary deterrent against assault. As the FBI's lead negotiator, you've established contact with Drake. Surprisingly, he's been reasonable in conversations, allowing food and medical supplies for the hostages and even releasing a pregnant woman as a "show of good faith." Psychological profiling suggests Drake is not suicidal or irrational – he genuinely believes he's fighting for a just cause and would prefer a peaceful resolution that achieves his goals. Your technical team has discovered a potential vulnerability: an old tunnel system not on modern maps that could allow a small infiltration team to access the island undetected. However, this would be an extreme risk – if discovered, Drake would likely see it as a betrayal of negotiations and could execute hostages or accelerate his timeline. The President has reluctantly authorized meeting Drake's financial demands, but refuses to publicly acknowledge the classified operations – doing so would compromise ongoing missions and potentially endanger active operatives around the world. The military has proposed a high-risk tactical solution involving a coordinated air and sea assault, but estimates suggest casualties could include up to 60% of the hostages. A wildcard has emerged: Dr. Stanley Goodspeed, the FBI's top chemical weapons specialist, has proposed a third option. He believes he can neutralize the VX gas with a counteragent if he can get close enough to the rockets. This would turn the deadly weapons into harmless shells, allowing for either negotiation without the threat or a military assault without the risk of civilian casualties in San Francisco. However, the counteragent is experimental and has never been tested in field conditions. The Joint Chiefs are pressuring for the military option, arguing that Drake's success would inspire similar actions from other disgruntled soldiers. Families of the hostages are begging for negotiation and compliance with demands. The media is divided, with some portraying Drake as a hero fighting for forgotten soldiers, while others call him a terrorist who must be stopped at any cost. ___ Welcome to Alcatraz

The Central African country of Bukavu has been experiencing increasing ethnic tensions between the two major tribes – the Hanzu and the Tarese. For decades, the colonial powers favored the minority Hanzu, giving them privileges and education while oppressing the majority Tarese. After independence, power dynamics began to shift, with growing resentment from the Tarese population. Paul Bakara manages the prestigious Grand Lake Hotel in Bukavu's capital. As a Hanzu married to a Tarese woman named Tatiana, he has always navigated the complex ethnic landscape with diplomatic skill, maintaining good relationships with powerful figures in both communities. The hotel caters to wealthy foreigners, diplomats, and aid workers, making it a neutral ground in an increasingly divided society. When the Tarese president's plane is shot down under mysterious circumstances, the fragile peace shatters. State radio controlled by Tarese extremists begins broadcasting hateful messages, calling for the extermination of all Hanzu, labeling them "cockroaches" and blaming them for the country's problems. Within hours, roadblocks appear throughout the city, and the systematic killing of Hanzu citizens begins. The United Nations peacekeeping force, limited by their mandate to observe rather than intervene, can do little as the violence escalates. Western countries evacuate their citizens, while abandoning the local population to their fate. The hotel, once a symbol of luxury, becomes the last refuge for more than a thousand terrified Hanzu, including Paul's extended family. Using his connections, charm, and generous bribes from the hotel's inventory of expensive liquor and cash, Paul manages to keep the militia away from the hotel gates – for now. He repeatedly calls the hotel's European owners, pleading for help, only to be told to protect the property and its inventory until foreign troops arrive. Each day, UN Colonel Oliver, head of the peacekeeping mission, updates Paul on the dire situation: the world has decided not to intervene. Meanwhile, at home, Paul struggles to explain the situation to his children. His youngest daughter, innocent to the hate around her, asks: "Dad, why do they hate us? We're all the same people, aren't we?" He has no answer that makes sense. Tatiana confronts Paul after discovering he's been spending the family's savings on bribes: "What happens when the money runs out? What happens to us? To our children?" The situation grows more desperate when Paul receives a call from Gregory Musafa, a powerful Tarese militia leader and former supplier to the hotel. "Paul, my old friend, I'm coming to visit tomorrow. The cockroaches in your hotel have been causing problems. It needs to be fumigated." That night, as Paul looks out from the hotel roof at fires burning across the city, a foreign journalist who has stayed behind shows him footage that will never make international news: thousands of bodies floating down the river, entire villages massacred, children killed in front of their parents. "The world isn't going to help, Paul," the journalist says. "They'll watch this on their televisions, say 'how horrible,' and go on eating their dinners." Paul realizes he has only hours to make an impossible decision. The hotel's satellite phone rings – it's the European hotel manager calling from Brussels: "Paul, I've arranged four seats on the last UN evacuation convoy tomorrow. For you, Tatiana, and your two biological children. It's the best I could do. The rest... I'm sorry." Paul looks at the hundreds of frightened faces in the hotel lobby – family members, friends, strangers – all looking to him for salvation. His wife's eyes meet his, and he knows she's thinking of her Tarese family members who are also at risk for harboring and being married to Hanzu. His phone buzzes with a message from Musafa: "See you tomorrow. No bribes will work this time." ___ Line Between

Frank Dunn, a once-respected boxing trainer, has spent the last decade living in the shadow of his former glory. His small gym in the industrial district barely makes ends meet. The glory days are long gone—promising athletes now prefer modern fitness centers with innovative equipment and young, ambitious trainers. One rainy evening, as Frank was about to close the gym, a woman knocked on the door. Introducing herself as Maggie Fitzgerald, she persistently asked him to take her on as a student. "I'm 32, and everyone says I'm too old to start a career in boxing. But I want to prove them wrong," she declared with a determination Frank hadn't seen in many years. At first, he refused—too many problems, too much risk. Maggie was persistent, coming to the gym every day for a month, training by herself in the corner, watching and repeating the movements of other boxers. Her persistence eventually wore Frank down. "Three months. If I don't see progress—we part ways," he said. What happened next amazed everyone. Maggie possessed natural talent, enhanced by incredible work ethic. She was the first to arrive and the last to leave, training to exhaustion and then asking for more. Behind her was a complicated history—a destroyed journalism career due to a publication that angered influential people, loss of family, a period of depression. Boxing became for her not just a sport, but a way to regain control over her life. Frank, initially skeptical, gradually developed faith in his student. He saw in her a spark that he had once lost in himself. Their partnership began to attract attention—first from local boxing enthusiasts, then regional media, and finally professional promoters. Within a year, Maggie progressed from a novice to a promising boxer, winning several regional tournaments. Her "late starter" story attracted attention and inspired others. Frank's gym was filled with students again, and his name returned to sports news. And then, when it seemed that fate had finally smiled on them both, an offer came from a major promoter—a title fight against the reigning champion in the welterweight division. "This is your chance for the big stage. The champion is looking for an easy win before retirement, and we need a good story to attract attention," the promoter honestly admitted. Frank hesitated. Maggie was talented but inexperienced for that level. The risk of serious injury was high—the champion was known for her aggressive style and several scandalous knockouts after which opponents took a long time to recover. A week before making the decision, something unexpected happened. During a routine training session, Maggie felt a sharp pain in her head. Medical examination revealed a brain aneurysm—a "time bomb" that could rupture at any moment, especially during physical exertion or from blows. Doctors strongly recommended surgery and a categorical refusal to box—forever. For Maggie, this news was a blow worse than any knockout. "Boxing brought me back to life. If I give it up now, this chance that will never come again—what's the point of this operation?" she told Frank after visiting the doctor. The promoter, learning of the diagnosis, did not withdraw the offer but required signing a waiver of claims in case of any health consequences. "We can present the story as a last chance, a fight against all odds. The public loves such stories," he cynically noted. ___ The Final Round

You're Jack Hart, former detective with the Basin City Police Department. Eight years ago, you left the force after your partner Frank was killed while investigating a series of prostitute murders. The official story was that it was a random gang attack, but you've always suspected that the case wasn't clean. Since then you've been working as a private investigator, taking commissions to track down unfaithful spouses, debtors and missing persons. Sometimes you do investigations that the cops ignore - in a town controlled by the Rodigan and Wallis families, the police only do what pays well. Basin City is a festering wound on the body of America. A city where a corrupt judge is cheaper than a slutty whore. Where politicians choose between which crime family to sell out to rather than political agendas. A city where honesty is a quick way to end up in a pool of your own blood. Two weeks ago, Angela, the younger sister of prostitute Rose, one of the murdered girls whose death you investigated with Frank, came into your asshole office. Angela handed you the envelope Rose had left her before she died. “If anything happens to me, give this to Jack Hart,” was the sister's instruction. In the envelope you find several photographs and a short note from Rose. The pictures were taken with a hidden camera and showed meetings between girls from the Golden Peach brothel and high-ranking city officials. Senators, judges, the police chief - they were all there in compromising situations. But the real shocker was the photo in which you recognized the current mayor's son, Patrick Rodigan, holding a bloody knife over the body of a prostitute. Rose's note explained that the Golden Peach wasn't just a brothel. Its owner, known by the nickname Duke, supplies Patrick with girls to satisfy his sick fantasies - for the mayor's patronage and police cover. You begin your own investigation. Carefully interviewing people from the lower strata of society - the homeless, drug addicts, petty crooks - you gradually confirmed Rose's suspicions. Over the last five years, more than a dozen girls from the brothel have disappeared. Officially, they've gone to other cities to find happiness. Unofficially, they've fallen victim to Patrick's sadistic ways. Yesterday, you broke into an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town owned by the Rodigan family. Inside, you found a room with a surgical table, cutting tools and freezers. In one of them they found the body of Lily, a prostitute who disappeared three weeks ago. Her body had been mutilated to the point of being identified only by a tattoo. After gathering evidence and photographs, you decided it was time to act. But when you got home, you discovered your apartment had been turned upside down and your backup materials were gone. Worse, there was a message on your answering machine from Angela: "Jack, they found me. They know I gave you Rose's envelope. ___ They're on their way to you. Be..." - the message was cut off by the sound of a door smashing.

You are Michael Fisher, a 32-year-old editor at a publishing house. Two years ago, your life was shattered into “before” and “after” when your fiancée Emily was killed in a car accident a month before your wedding. You were behind the wheel, but you were not physically hurt. Medical examiners and police admitted that you were not at fault for the accident - you were cut off by a drunk driver, you lost control on a slippery road. Nevertheless, the guilt won't let you go. Every night you relive the accident all over again, waking up in a cold sweat. Memories of Emily that once brought you joy now cause you acute pain. Her pictures, her things, her favorite places, everything reminds me of the loss. You've been seeing a therapist, but you've made minimal progress. Antidepressants dull the pain, but they don't eliminate the source. A week ago, when you saw a new psychiatrist, you were offered an experimental procedure codenamed ERASED (Emotional Recollection And Selective Exclusion Device). The procedure, developed by neurocognitive company Mnemosyne Labs, allows you to selectively remove traumatic memories from the human brain without damaging other areas of memory. “You won't forget Emily,” Dr. Wren explained. "You will remember the facts of your life with her - where you met, what you liked to do together. But the procedure will remove the emotional trauma associated with her death. You will know she died, but that knowledge will not cause acute pain or post-traumatic reactions." For the past week, you've been reading about the procedure, studying the feedback from clinical trial participants. The results are impressive, with 94% of patients reporting a significant improvement in quality of life with no side effects. However, there are 6% of cases where complications occurred, ranging from mild confusion to loss of connected memories that were not intended to be removed. In addition, the ethical aspect keeps you on your toes. Is the pain of losing Emily a part of your identity that cannot simply be erased? Would you betray her memory by deleting the emotional connection to her death? Today you received a call from Mnemosyne Labs. They confirmed that you have passed all the preliminary tests and can be included in the program. The procedure is scheduled for tomorrow, but they emphasized that the decision rests solely with you and you can withdraw at any time. Gathering your thoughts, you open a box containing a small emerald ring - the engagement ring Emily never got to wear. Next to it is a flash card with an unsent letter you started writing to Emily a month after her death-a letter full of regrets, confessions, and unspoken love. ___ The phone's ringing. It's Dr. Wren, asking about your decision.