Hello, Habr! Some time ago, I posted a literary cycle called "The Programmer's Nonsense" on Habr. It seems that the result turned out to be more or less decent. Thanks again to everyone who left warm feedback. Now, I want to publish a new piece on Habr. I wanted to write it in a special way, but it ended up being the same as always: beautiful girls, a touch of homemade philosophy, and very strange things. The vacation season is in full swing. I hope this text brings Habr readers a summer mood.
I fear your lips; for me, they are simply deadly.
Under the glow of the night lamp, your hair drives me crazy.
And I want all of this forever, to leave it forever,
But how to do it—after all, I can't live without you.
The group "White Eagle"
The first day of vacation
In a countryside park, a pretty girl in high-heeled sandals balanced on a fallen tree. The halo from the sun passed directly through her hairstyle, and her hair glowed brightly orange from within. I took out my smartphone and photographed her because it would be foolish to miss such beauty.
"Why do you always photograph me when I look so messy?"
"But now I know why they call you Sveta."
I smiled, helped Sveta down from the tree, and showed her the photo. Due to the optical effects of the camera, the light around her hairstyle became even more mesmerizing.
"Hey, I didn't know your phone could take such pictures. It must be very expensive."
For a second, my thoughts drifted in a completely different direction. I thought to myself, "Yes, too expensive." But to Sveta, I said:
"Today is my first day of vacation!"
"Wow!!! So can we fool around all day? Maybe you can come over this evening, and we can arrange some especially unusual date?"
"Sure...," I replied, trying to look as calm as possible, although my heart skipped a few beats.
"Do you have any interesting wishes?" Sveta smiled mischievously and waved her hand strangely in the air.
I suddenly felt a scratch in my throat out of nowhere. Struggling to think and fighting off a cough, I hoarsely responded:
"Wine and a dress..."
"Wine and a dress? Is that all??? That's curious."
"Well, yes..."
We chatted in the park for a couple more hours, and then parted ways with a firm intention to meet again at nine in the evening at her place.
I felt guilty towards Sveta. Technically, it was indeed my first day of vacation. But a vacation is supposed to be a predictable span of time, after which a person returns to work. I, however, had no intention of going back to work. In fact, I wasn't planning to return anywhere at all. I decided to disappear from this world. Disappear in an informational sense.
Winged Swings
It’s already evening, and I’m standing in the yard of Sveta's house, completely in line with the plans. Strangely enough, Sveta's apartment was located in the area of my childhood. Everything here feels painfully familiar. Here are the swings with a bent metal seat. There’s no second seat; the bars hinge just dangle in the air. I don’t know if these swings were ever in working condition, or if they were built like this from the start? After all, twenty years ago, I remember them looking exactly the same.
There are still fifteen minutes until nine. I sit on the bent seat and start swinging, creaking rustily in time with my thoughts.
According to physical and mathematical calculations, to disappear from the world's informational flow, I needed to do it in a place with the highest entropy. Sveta's apartment was perfect for this :) It was hard to find greater disorder in our city.
Usually, people know something about their future, and something they don't. This half-knowledge is evenly distributed from the present moment to old age. It’s quite different for me. I knew precisely, in the smallest details, what would happen to me in the next three hours, but after that, I knew absolutely nothing. Because in three hours, I would step outside the informational perimeter.
Informational perimeter — this is how I named the mathematical construct that would soon make me free.
It's almost time; in a few moments, I will knock on the door. From the perspective of information theory, programmer Mikhail Gromov will enter the entropy gate. But who will come out of the gate in three hours is a big question.
Wine and Dress
I walk into the entrance. Just like everywhere else — battered panels, mailboxes, heaps of wires, carelessly painted walls, and metal doors of various designs. I go up to the floor and ring the doorbell.
The door opens, and for a moment, I can't say anything. Sveta stands in the doorway holding a bottle.
— Here, just like you wanted… Wine.
— And this is what… — a dress? — I cautiously examine Sveta.
— Yes — what do you think it is?
— Well, it's better than a dress…, — I kiss her on the cheek and step into the apartment.
Underfoot is a soft carpet. Candles, olivieh, and glasses of ruby wine on a small table. “Scorpions” play from slightly crackling speakers. I think this date was nothing special compared to the hundreds of others that probably took place nearby.
After what feels like an eternity, we lie naked right on the carpet. A heater flickers dimly in the corner, glowing orange. The wine in the glasses has turned almost black. Outside, it has gotten dark. From the window, I can see my school. The school is all in darkness, with just a small light shining at the entrance, while a blinking security LED flickers nearby. There’s nobody inside.
I examine the windows. There’s our classroom. I once brought a programmable calculator here and input a tic-tac-toe program during recess. I couldn't do it beforehand because all memory would erase when switched off. I was very proud that I managed to make the program one and a half times shorter than in the magazine. Plus, it was a more advanced “corner” strategy, unlike the more common “center” strategy. My friends played, and of course, I couldn't win against them.
And there are the bars on the windows. This is the computer lab. It was here that I first touched a real keyboard. They were “Mikroshi” — the industrial version of ‘Radio-RK’. I stayed late here for programming club and built my first friendships with computers.
I always entered the computer room with a change of shoes and… with a pounding heart. It’s good that there are strong bars on the windows. I feel they protect not just the computers from the ignorant, but something much more important…
A gentle, barely perceptible touch.
— Misha… Misha, what's wrong… you're frozen. I'm here.
I shift my gaze to Sveta.
— I'm just… nothing. Just remembered how it all was… Sveta, can I go to the bathroom?
Factory reset
The bathroom door is the second barrier of the airlock, and it's important to do everything right. I discreetly take the bag with my things. I close the door with a latch.
I first take the smartphone out of the package. Using a pin I found under the mirror, I extract the SIM card. I look around—there should be scissors somewhere. The scissors are on the shelf with the laundry detergent. I cut the SIM card right in half. Now to the smartphone itself. Sorry, friend.
I hold the smartphone in my hands and try to break it. I feel like I'm the only person in the world who has ever attempted to do this. The smartphone resists. I press harder. I try to break it over my knee. The glass cracks, the smartphone bends and then shatters. I pull out the motherboard and try to snap it at the points where the chips are soldered. I came across a strange component; it resisted the longest and I involuntarily focused on it. None of my knowledge of computer technology was enough to understand what it was. A strange chip with no markings and a reinforced casing. But there was no time to think about that now.
After a while, the smartphone, with the help of my hands, feet, teeth, nails, and manicure scissors, turned into a pile of undefined objects. The same fate befell my credit card and other equally important documents.
In a moment, all this is sent through the sewage system into the boundless ocean of entropy. Hoping that it wasn't too loud or too long, I return to the room.
Confession and communion
— Here I am, Svetik, sorry for being late. More wine?
— Yes, thank you.
I pour the wine into the glasses.
— Misha, tell me something interesting.
— Like what?
— Well, I don't know, you always tell such interesting stories. Oh—there's blood on your hand… Be careful—it’s dripping right into the glass…
I look at my hand—looks like I cut myself while dealing with the smartphone.
— Let me get you a new glass.
— No need, it's tastier with the blood…— I laugh.
Suddenly, I realized that this might be my last normal conversation with a person. Beyond the perimeter, everything will be completely different. I wanted to share something very personal. After all, to tell the whole truth.
But I couldn't. The perimeter wouldn't close. I couldn't take her with me beyond the perimeter either. I failed to find a solution to the equation for two people. It probably existed, but my mathematical knowledge was clearly insufficient.
I just stroked her magical hairstyle.
Your hair, hands, and shoulders are a crime because you cannot be that beautiful in this world.
Svetlana has very beautiful eyes in addition to her hairstyle. When I looked into them, I thought that perhaps there was an error in my calculations. What if there are laws stronger than mathematics?
Struggling to find the right words, I sipped wine from a glass, trying to taste blood. My confession didn’t happen, and the communion felt somehow strange.
A door to nowhere
The moment of the final closure of the perimeter was also calculated and known. It was when the door of the entrance would slam shut behind me. Until that moment, there was still a chance to turn back.
The bulbs weren’t working, and I descended to the exit in the dark. What will it be like, and what will I feel at the moment of closure? I cautiously grasped the entrance door and stepped outside. The door creaked gently and closed.
Everything.
I am free.
I think many have tried to erase their identity before me. And perhaps some have succeeded to some extent. But for the first time, it was done not randomly, but based on information theory.
Just don’t think that it’s enough to smash your smartphone on the concrete floor and throw your documents out the window. It’s not that simple. I prepared for this for quite a long time, both theoretically and practically.
To put it simply — I completely merged with the crowd, and it was just as impossible to distinguish me from it as it is impossible to crack a modern strong encryption. From now on, all my actions in the surrounding world will appear as random events without any causal connection. They will be impossible to correlate and link into any logical chains. I exist in an entropy field below the level of noise.
I found myself under the protection of forces mightier than bosses, politicians, the army, the navy, the internet, and military space forces. From now on, my guardian angels were — mathematics, physics, and cybernetics. And all the forces of hell were now powerless before them, like small children.
(to be continued: Protocol 'Entropy'. Part 2 of 6. Beyond the noise barrier)
Source: habr.com
