Subtitles — Always Visible — Её звали Делия

This is subtitles of literary work Always Visible (Another Prayer for the Dying Horror Genre) by Russian author Vitaly Ivolginsky.

^{Warning: detailed listing of character’s words may partially or completely reveal the plot or other nuances.}

Always Visible (Another Prayer for the Dying Horror Genre)

Zero Act — Que Difícil é Ser Escravo de Deus!

Chapter N.I

Sweaty Subject: Please, somebody help me!
Confectionery Countermen: What happened to him?
Pottery Peddler: It’s obvious he’s running from someone!
Raggery Retailer: Interestingly, from the beast?
Toy Trader: It seems to me that from a human.
Weariless Woodcutter: Either way, he needs support!
Sweaty Subject: One-Who-That-Never-Visible chasing after me!
Confectionery Countermen: Didn’t understand who he talking about?
Pottery Peddler: Why can’t the pursuer can’t be seen?
Raggery Retailer: Maybe because he is not visible?
Toy Trader: How is this possible?
Weariless Woodcutter: Whatever the case, something was fishy!
Sweaty Subject: Save me, somebody save me!
Confectionery Countermen: Friends, just look at this!
Pottery Peddler: Someone has grabbed him and now holding!
Raggery Retailer: But I don’t see anyone!
Toy Trader: Think, this isn’t a game…
Weariless Woodcutter: So what are you waiting for, let’s hurry to help him!
Confectionery Countermen: Hey, who is stealing my goods?
Pottery Peddler: Who’s beating my dishes?
Raggery Retailer: Get this sheet off me!
Toy Trader: It was painful.
Weariless Woodcutter: Just you wait!
Confectionery Countermen: My hot caramel will burn scoundrel’s skin!
Pottery Peddler: With sharp shards I will shower the grass on which he will pass!
Raggery Retailer: I’ll try to gouge out his eyes with scissors!
Toy Trader: People, you don’t really see him…
Weariless Woodcutter: Anyway, he can’t resist it!
Confectionery Countermen: Look! Watch up there!
Pottery Peddler: My lord, what I see!?
Raggery Retailer: Great, he became visible.
Toy Trader: It’s all because of the rain…
Weariless Woodcutter: Whatever it was, it must be get’em immediately!
One-Who-That-Never-Visible: Come to your senses, I have not harmed thou!
Confectionery Countermen: Just hear, it turns out he knows how to talk!
Pottery Peddler: What are you justifying?!
Raggery Retailer: Guys, don’t let him go!!
Toy Trader: One-Who-That-Never-Visible is not that invisible!
Pottery Peddler: Shield your eyes!
Weariless Woodcutter: Then it serves you right!
Confectionery Countermen: Well, for heaven’s sakes…
Pottery Peddler: A masterpiece of the glass making.
Raggery Retailer: Hey he’s warm and mild!
Toy Trader: Oh, what are those?
Weariless Woodcutter: Get back from it, now!
Confectionery Countermen: So it wasn’t a beast…
Pottery Peddler: This is a true human, just like us.
Raggery Retailer: So immature… And what a peaceful sight he has…
Toy Trader: We killed him! He is not breathing, his heart is not beating!
Confectionery Countermen: Oh, God! It’s an… …quake!

Chapter N.II

Ivette Yonce: I heard you scream.
Ivette Yonce: Were you crying?
Ivette Yonce: What are you afraid of? I’m right next to you. Tell me, I’ll completely understand…
Delia Yonce: I think ajussi Jo is unhappy, I even heard him moan…
Ivette Yonce: Dearie, don’t you cry…
Delia Yonce: I’m not crying.
Delia Yonce: Mommy, why do you keep lying to me? About ajussi Jo?
Ivette Yonce: When will you understand, that he died?
Ivette Yonce: Remember, ajussi Jo is just doesn’t exist in this world, and that’s it.
Delia Yonce: Well, mom…
Ivette Yonce: Go to bed already, dearie.

Chapter N.III

Ivette Yonce: Dearie, go for lunch!
Delia Yonce: But… I have homework in literature…
Ivette Yonce: Your lessons can wait, and my soup is getting cold!
Mister Yonce: Finally, sweetie! I was tired of waiting!
Mister Yonce: So, what should be done before meals?
Mister Yonce: Right, we need to giving thanks and praise the Lord. For what?
Mister Yonce: Well, if a human takes the gifts of God without gratitude, he is likened to a pig that shamelessly pounces on everything indiscriminately and devours what it thinks is tasty. But we are not pigs! We are humans, we unbecoming to be animals. We must understand who we are and why we came into this world. Humans should know that their every earthly activity is a manifestation of their love for Lord. God was merciful – he sends us food so that our soul can grow in the knowledge of the higher will.
Mister Yonce: This means, that we should accept the food given to us by the Lord with a sense of gratitude.
Mister Yonce: Well, let’s get started.
Delia Yonce: Forgive me.
Delia Yonce: Come, Lord Jesus…
Delia Yonce: …be our Guest…
Delia Yonce: …and let Thy gifts…
Delia Yonce: ..to us be blessed. Amen.

Chapter N.IV

Delia Yonce: Mommy, why are you sad?
Mister Yonce: Darling… I don’t even know how to tell you this…
Mister Yonce: I can understand, that we brought you up in a religious atmosphere and therefore it is not surprising, that you are serious about what my mother and I taught you and the problems of faith and devotion to God occupy a significant place in your life.
Mister Yonce: But this does not mean, that the issue of religion is the only problem in our lives. There are many other things that…
Delia Yonce: Daddy, what the problem is?
Mister Yonce: I will be very brief. Your mother and I gave praise to the Lord and began to meal, and you, dear, continued to sit in prayerful ecstasy and did not react to anything, even on my words, so your mother and I were afraid that you had a internal bleeding.
Mister Yonce: Sweetie, don’t worry, I’ll take care of mommy myself. You eat better, otherwise all skin and bones.
Mister Yonce: If the soup is too cold, you can heat it up on the stove, you’re not a little kid. Bye-bye!

Chapter N.V

Ivette Yonce: Listen, Delia. This year, for your birthday, dad and I will prepare an unusual present for you. I’m sure, that will appeal to you.
Delia Yonce: What kind of present, mommy?
Ivette Yonce: The one you don’t even know about. Look at yourself in the mirror, dearie! Você é incrivelmente incrível!
Ivette Yonce: Here, take it.
Delia Yonce: Why? I didn’t…
Ivette Yonce: Don’t argue with me. We are going to the burial grounds, you forgot?
Delia Yonce: What should I do with it, mommy?
Ivette Yonce: You’ll have to put them on the grave of Jo’s late mom…
Delia Yonce: What’s that got to do?
Ivette Yonce: When you lay flowers, then in the next world, the souls of your grandma and grandpa will be with the soul of Jo’s mother for all eternity to protect her and take care of her well-being.
Delia Yonce: Ajussi Jo!
Jordan Thurlow: Sorry madam, what made you wait!
Ivette Yonce: Why did you choose such an unprestigious profession?
Jordan Thurlow: After the death of my mother, I needed to pay off her debts. I had to sell almost all of her things, and this was the only income at that evil days.
Ivette Yonce: You did not answer me.
Jordan Thurlow: Sorry, I don’t really want to talk about this topic.
Ivette Yonce: To me you can open your whole soul as it is.
Jordan Thurlow: Well. The fact is that I am a professional procrastinator – in other words, an very lazy person.
Ivette Yonce: Dearie! You can’t laugh at other people’s shortcomings – everyone has them. And, of course, you have no less of them than anyone else.
Jordan Thurlow: It’s okay, madam, do not reproach the child for the fact that adult conversations are funny to him. You yourself, probably, behaved in the same way in your youth. It will pass with age.
Ivette Yonce: Well, mister Thurlow. Let it be your way.
Jordan Thurlow: All my adult life I tried to delay the moment, when I have to start working for a living. When I was younger, I lamented that society was not able to easily give benefits to everyone and everyone. But, as you understand, the cornucopia is just a utopian symbol, and therefore, with a heavy heart, I had to agree with the foundations of our imperfect world.
Ivette Yonce: Curious, so are you satisfied with your profession? I know she don’t make a lot of money.
Jordan Thurlow: It’s not so much about the money. I went down the path of a culturologist solely because, so as not to spend a lot of time at work.
Ivette Yonce: You want to say that even this job exhausts all your strength?
Jordan Thurlow: I believe that a person should not live only by labour. I hated the idea of becoming some kind of salesclerk or steward – because others will treat you not as an individual, but only as a screw in a social structure. Such work deprives me of the possibility of self-expression, and my nature does not accept this.
Ivette Yonce: I would not say that I am satisfied with your outlook on life. I wonder how your late mother felt about this?
Jordan Thurlow: She wasn’t happy with it either. She constantly lamented, seeing how I wasted her money to no purpose. I understood how hard it was for her, because she had to earn a living and my upbringing alone…
Ivette Yonce: Did you consider yourself not a good son?
Jordan Thurlow: Hard to give answer. I never claimed to be an outstanding person. Parents tend to idealize their children, but the child wants to be himself first and foremost, and I was no exception.
Ivette Yonce: Oh, those children…

Chapter N.VI

Ivette Yonce: My Lord!
Jordan Thurlow: What’s been going on?
Ivette Yonce: You didn’t follow her grave at all! When was the last time you went here?
Delia Yonce: Ajussi Jo, help my mom, please! Strong you are, I know…
Ivette Yonce: You got that right, dearie.
Delia Yonce: Mommy, you’re all messy!
Ivette Yonce: Are not you ashamed, mister Thurlow! You make me clean up your mother’s grave alone, untill yourself…
Ivette Yonce: Delia, do you think Jordan’s mom would love to meet you if she were alive?
Ivette Yonce: Delia, put forget-me-nots at the head and come to us, it’s time to go home.
Ivette Yonce: Right. And now come to us. Hurry up!
Ivette Yonce: Dearie, why did you get your clothes dirty? You’re not some simpleton, you’re a civilized lady!

Chapter N.VII

Ivette Yonce: Dearie, we need to go.
Delia Yonce: Mommy, I want to stay here.
Ivette Yonce: What are you lost here?
Delia Yonce: I will stay.
Ivette Yonce: As you wish, beautiful.
Ivette Yonce: I will be waiting for you outside.
Delia Yonce: Good afternoon to you, reverend Wyllys.
Delia Yonce: Allow me to ask you.
Reverend Wyllys: Go with peace, my daughter.
Delia Yonce: Can you please…
Reverend Wyllys: Worship time is over, you have nothing more to do here.
Delia Yonce: I wanted your advice, reverend Wyllys.
Reverend Wyllys: What a naughty gal… Go home, my daughter.
Delia Yonce: I’m not going anywhere, until you answer my question!
Reverend Wyllys: What’s eating you, my daughter?
Delia Yonce: Reverend Wyllys, I dread to think, but sometimes it seems to me that adults are hiding something from me.
Reverend Wyllys: Don’t worry, my daughter. Parents always do not immediately open the world to their child, for a person must learn it gradually, bit by bit.
Delia Yonce: That’s not what I meant, reverend Wyllys.
Reverend Wyllys: If a man from a young age suddenly learns everything about the world at once, then know, my daughter, that this is from the Evil One, and such a person goes against the commandments of the Lord.
Delia Yonce: Please listen to me, reverend Wyllys. My parents don’t want to talk to me about the person I feel this way that’s, uh…
Reverend Wyllys: Things can still work out, my daughter. Are you talking about love?
Delia Yonce: Reverend Wyllys, I’m living in constant fear, that something bad happened to this person. What should I do?
Reverend Wyllys: You love, my daughter, and amour with awe are always alongside. Just have faith, hope and wait.

Chapter N.VIII

Delia Yonce: Ajussi Jo, I’m begging you! I have an important exam at school, I just don’t know how I can pass it…
Delia Yonce: The Book of Light.
Jordan Thurlow: Oh, that’s boring. It’s all about healing and crystals.
Delia Yonce: And stupid junk!
Jordan Thurlow: Trust me, I am in total agreement with you! I’m getting sick and tired of this esoteric nonsense. I would never pick up a book like this, if on the street I had not been forced to take it by one whacky. By the way, I was wondering, why do you think this book is “stupid junk”, as you put it?
Jordan Thurlow: Tell me why you didn’t like this book?
Delia Yonce: I believe, that a human does not benefit from some sort of a pebbles.

Chapter N.IX

Jordan Thurlow: I want do something nice for you. You do love…
Delia Yonce: What I love? Read? Paint?
Jordan Thurlow: Incinerate.
Jordan Thurlow: Take these shreds, and take it to the hearth.
Jordan Thurlow: Get over here.
Jordan Thurlow: Throw all your burden in there.
Jordan Thurlow: You make me proud! Now step aside.
Jordan Thurlow: The Book of Light, they say…
Delia Yonce: Let there be light!
Jordan Thurlow: Did you like it?
Jordan Thurlow: You’ve never laughed like this before. Agree, because it great – to burn the books?
Delia Yonce: If that’s a junkfiction, then yes.
Jordan Thurlow: I’m not saying that this applies to all literature. Those who can really teach something should be cherished as height of luxury, and they should not be burned at all.
Jordan Thurlow: Hold on a second.
Delia Yonce: Where are you calling?
Jordan Thurlow: Take it easy, Delia. Just give me a minute to talk.
Delia Yonce: It have to do with me?
Jordan Thurlow: I feel like you’re reading my mind. Of course it is related. Something very interesting is waiting for you. Highly.
Japhet Byrnes: Hello, Jo, why bother me at such an early hour?
Jordan Thurlow: Hello, Japh. I’m calling to find out how you are doing, what mood you are in.
Japhet Byrnes: Listen, what is this thing, when the electricity is turned off in the morning and only turned on in the evening? I’m already tired of getting dressed in the morning by candlelight!
Jordan Thurlow: No idea, mate. I have electricity from another substation.
Jordan Thurlow: Look, Japh. Do you mind host the couple of not-much-star-studded folks?
Japhet Byrnes: Couple? Are you not the only one coming to visit me?
Jordan Thurlow: Yes, friend, I want to introduce you to my new neighbour, Delia, pharmaceutist’s daughter. Very smart and sweet girl.
Japhet Byrnes: You going to come with a babbie…
Jordan Thurlow: What, you’re afraid that the young lady will get bored and remember you as a rare bore? Wrong, mate – Delia is a serious girl, loves to talk about literary topics, we recently read the Brüder Strugatzki with her, and she liked it very much.
Japhet Byrnes: Whom?
Jordan Thurlow: Well, do you remember the book onkel Korble got me?
Japhet Byrnes: A, which is in German…
Jordan Thurlow: So be cool about the boredom, Japh. Sit, chat, read your book, take a look… The main thing is that there is something to put on the desk, I hope you don’t have any problems with this?

Chapter N.X

Japhet Byrnes: You came to me just in time, Jo. I just have a lamb shoulder in the oven – turned it off now, and yesterday’s beans with tomato paste on the stove.
Delia Yonce & Jordan Thurlow: That’s absolutely awesome, Japhet!
Jordan Thurlow: How about desserts?
Japhet Byrnes: Today I decided to do without any frills, so no sweets and starchy foods, only meat and beans, and the tea of course!
Jordan Thurlow: All right, Japh. Well, wait for us, Japh, we will come to you soon.
Japhet Byrnes: We got a deal, bye!
Jordan Thurlow: So now, Delia, go outside, and I’ll wash myself.
Delia Yonce: Okay.
Jordan Thurlow: You can play with Buffalo, but just don’t go far from the wicket.
Jordan Thurlow: I am ready to go!
Jordan Thurlow: Well, Delia, let’s go.
Jordan Thurlow: Did you miss my dog?
Delia Yonce: Don’t worry, ajussi Jo.
Jordan Thurlow: House number one hundred fifty four, eighty second apartment. We arrived!
Japhet Byrnes: Who’s out there?
Jordan Thurlow: Open it up, dormouse, the bear has come!
Japhet Byrnes: Maybe you a dormouse yourself.
Jordan Thurlow: Come up to the fourth floor, your legs will be faster than mine.
Delia Yonce: Ajussi Jo, why are you limping?
Jordan Thurlow: Go forward, I shall be with you.
Japhet Byrnes: You is new Jo’s neighbour, isn’t it? I’m standing here in the hallway, waiting for both of you – because I already let you in the entrance…
Delia Yonce: Let’s get acquainted. My name is Delia, just a little girl, who loves to read!
Japhet Byrnes: Well, where is Jo?
Jordan Thurlow: I am already right there!
Delia Yonce: Hippity hip hooray! Eventually you is appeared!
Jordan Thurlow: Japh, let that kid into the apartment.
Japhet Byrnes: It’s all right.

Chapter N.XI

Delia Yonce: Who is this?
Japhet Byrnes: Portrait of Elizabeth the Second from the hand of some Hungarian painter.
Japhet Byrnes: Unfortunately, I can’t remember the artist’s name, but I don’t think you’re interested anyway.
Delia Yonce: What is that?
Japhet Byrnes: I just thought, what if a child came to visit me, then I just have to offer him something interesting. Do you like fairy tales?
Delia Yonce: Who doesn’t love them?
Japhet Byrnes: Then you and I will definitely find a common language!
Jordan Thurlow: Hey Japh, are you going to set the table?
Jordan Thurlow: Sit down, Delia, let’s see what Japh will treat us to.
Delia Yonce: By the way, how what to address you?
Japhet Byrnes: Ajussi Japh, just call me ajussi Japh.
Japhet Byrnes: Burnt again, how can…
Delia Yonce: Nothing wrong. I love roast with crispy crust.
Japhet Byrnes: If you been a lover of meat with blood, then you would be disappointed.
Japhet Byrnes: Do not delay, I need to put the meat.
Jordan Thurlow: Well, leave this matter to me. And you sit down.
Jordan Thurlow: I completely forgot that you can’t reach that high.
Delia Yonce: Never mind.
Jordan Thurlow: Put the kettle, or do you want to?
Japhet Byrnes: I made tea yet. Don’t fuss, you’re bothering me.
Japhet Byrnes: Dinner is served.
Japhet Byrnes: How does it taste?
Japhet Byrnes: Maybe you want supplements? I have beans, if you remember.
Jordan Thurlow: Do not mix, mate, these foodstuff. They need to be eaten with a break of at least an hour, otherwise the beans will kill the flavor of the meat.
Delia Yonce: I will eat beans later, but now I would love to read that book.
Jordan Thurlow: Know, Japh, what Delia means by “read” when she is read aloud. You got the hint?
Japhet Byrnes: Well… My oratory skills are not great, but if the young lady wants…
Delia Yonce: Please, ajussi Japh, read me a fairy tale!
Japhet Byrnes: That’s when you drink tea, then I will pamper you.
Delia Yonce: Ajussi Japh, It’s not tasty!
Japhet Byrnes: God be with you. If you don’t want tea, don’t drink, I’m not forcing you to do that.
Delia Yonce: Are we going to reading or not?
Japhet Byrnes: Let me drink. You don’t mind?
Jordan Thurlow: All right, Japh, stop chase the teas.
Jordan Thurlow: Let’s go to study, Delia, and take our seats.
Delia Yonce: Grab the book when you come to us.

Chapter N.XII

Jordan Thurlow: Settle in, Delia! Now we’ll listen to Japh read aloud to us!
Delia Yonce: Huzzah!
Japhet Byrnes: So, how to entertain our young lady…
Delia Yonce: Something so interesting, and better with morals!
Japhet Byrnes: Well, good fairy tales without morals does not exist.
Jordan Thurlow: Depends how you look at it…
Japhet Byrnes: O! I found what we need! Here is a interesting story, written by Leonard Austener.
Delia Yonce: Wait, the author of the book is a certain Edward Coleman?
Japhet Byrnes: You do not understand, he just compiled this compilation, and the creators of fairy tales are all different!
Delia Yonce: Well, I guess you know best.
Japhet Byrnes: So, “Zelandyne in Seventhaven”.
Japhet Byrnes: “Seventhaven is a magical town that was located on a celestial island hidden from mortal’s eyes. It was possible to get there only by climbing the crystalline staircase, which appeared only in the deep night and only in one place – in one area at High Road”.
Delia Yonce: Yes, of course, what else can a town in skies be called, if not seventh heaven.
Jordan Thurlow: There may be a play on words here.
Japhet Byrnes: “Only six inhabitants lived in this magical town. It was Mason, who built houses, Metalsmith, who forged all sorts of useful things, Miner mined gems and gold, Montero hunted and fed everyone else, Medic help them with their health and only one twiddler Minstrel did nothing but useless versifying. And, of course, the town was ruled by a severe Mayor”.
Delia Yonce: Hold on. You said there were six, and the mayor is not considered a inhabitant?
Jordan Thurlow: Huh, six inhabitants in a town, to say nothing of the mayor.
Japhet Byrnes: Well, like Jerome.
Japhet Byrnes: “All Seventhaven’s inhabitants have one thing in common – each of them was over two thousand years old, and they never appeared in front of people. But this does not mean that seventhavenians did not know about the existence of mortals – on the contrary, those gems mined by Miner, they were going to give it to people, but with one condition – when people stop making the warfares and killing their own kind”.
Jordan Thurlow: They’ll do it when the pigs fly.
Japhet Byrnes: “For real this whole story began in Ducal Chateau. It was inhabited by a young marchioness Zelandyne, which was called so because it is just a very beautiful name”.
Delia Yonce: I do not agree with it!
Japhet Byrnes: What are you talking about?
Delia Yonce: Every name must have a meaning! For instance, my mother called me a Greek word, which means “always visible”!
Jordan Thurlow: Hm’mm, It was very curious to hear…
Japhet Byrnes: Delia, you really must excuse me, but I think, that thy mother swindled thee.
Japhet Byrnes: I just know a thing or two about Hellen culture, and I know that the name “Delia” means only “born on the island of Delos”.
Japhet Byrnes: Incidentally, to one Greek goddess, specifically Artemis, your name was used just as an epithet.
Jordan Thurlow: Solidly, isn’t it?
Delia Yonce: I sense… How a wave of truth extinguished the fire of falsehood.
Jordan Thurlow: You have a rich vocabulary!
Delia Yonce: Okay, everything is clear with me, but after whom was the marchioness from the fairy tale named then?
Japhet Byrnes: Do you mean Zelandyne? Well, I don’t even know…
Jordan Thurlow: There is a herb with a very similar name, that still weed.
Japhet Byrnes: No-no, wait, I think I remembered something. If I’m not mistaken, celandine itself was so named because it bloomed when the swallows returned, and withered after they flew away.
Jordan Thurlow: I never looked before at that point in detail. Now adapt this into a fairy tale for a our young lady.
Japhet Byrnes: Good. Assume that marchioness was named Zelandyne, because her mother watched the swallows that flew near the walls of the their chateau.
Delia Yonce: That’s quite another matter! It already makes sense!
Japhet Byrnes: You are intelligent girl.
Japhet Byrnes: “The young marchioness lived in luxury and abundance, and in everyday life she was surrounded by theurgical creatures. For example, in the morning Zelandyne woke up that Sunny Bunny, who descended from the window with the first rays of sunshine, rang his bell over her pillow”.
Japhet Byrnes: “But not only the young marchioness had her theurgical pet. The Duchess, her mother, had with her Potted Fairy – a tiny woman with wings who lived in a small pot and did not need food or drink, but could work miracles. However, The Duchess could easily do without her charms, for she herself was a sorceress, but this did not prevent her from tormenting little beauty with the same question every day – “How long will I to sit on the throne?”.
Delia Yonce: Hmm, why did she ask her such a query?
Japhet Byrnes: I think this should be understood as an allegory for the fact that Zelandyne’s mother was afraid of approaching old age.
Jordan Thurlow: But what about the obvious authority in the country?
Japhet Byrnes: Don’t you understand what governance is, Jo? The Duchess is not a The Queen, but rather, the owner of several plots of land, on which she can dispose, but no more.
Jordan Thurlow: Wait, so you mean to tell me that…
Delia Yonce: All right, stop it! I did not come to visit ajussi Japh in order to listen to such controversies!
Japhet Byrnes: Well, from the mouths of Delia shall come the truth.
Japhet Byrnes: “So, Potted Fairy always answered her mistress the same – that The Duchess will reign happily ever after. Such an answer delighted the narcissistic woman. But she resorted not only to magic – almost all related to power were in charge by Chief Executor of Royal Wishes”.
Delia Yonce: Who was that? Never heard of post like this.
Jordan Thurlow: Well, it’s not hard to guess that this man fulfilled any desires of the insidious duchess.
Delia Yonce: But why is he exactly “Executor”?
Jordan Thurlow: This is just a play on words again. He simultaneously executes both pleasant and violent requests.
Delia Yonce: All right.
Japhet Byrnes: “Job title Chief Executor of Royal Wishes at the court of The Duchess was established a long time ago – the person that will be discussed was a descendant in the third tribe. On his own, he was a great implementer – it was not difficult for him to sneak anywhere and quietly eavesdrop on the conspiracies of any interesting personalities who inspired fear in his proprietress. On that day, he ran into the throne room and reported that the army of the neighboring country was defeated, and their leader was captured. This good news pleased The Duchess so much that they immediately awarded him a medal “For The Pleasant News”. And her daughter, marchioness Zelandyne, at that time communicated with two unusual inhabitants of Ducal Chateau”.
Japhet Byrnes: I want you to guess for yourself who the marchioness was talking to.
Japhet Byrnes: I’ll give you a hint, their names started with the letter “C”. C&C.
Delia Yonce: Chancellor & Councillor.
Japhet Byrnes: It was a good try, but not, Zelandyne was not talking to people.
Delia Yonce: With whom, maybe animals?
Japhet Byrnes: No, with vegetables.

Chapter N.XIII

Japhet Byrnes: “Cactus and Chamomile, who grew up in the parlour, had the ability to speak like humans. When Zelandyne had nothing to do, she sat down on a chair in front of the window and listened, how her green friends tell her about what has been and what will be in the world. That day they told marchioness that today she is eighteen years old, and on this occasion, they want to please her with the news that she will meet her fiance, who, as was customary in those distant times, should give her a heart pierced by an arrow. When Zelandyne, delighted by this news, immediately went to the palace hall, Cactus and Chamomile began to whisper among themselves about who the mysterious chosen one of marchioness would look like”.
Delia Yonce: I think it’s definitely not a prickly peyote!
Japhet Byrnes: “Some will wonder why the marchioness was so pleased with the news of her birthday. It’s simple – the mother tried her best to keep her daughter in the dark about her age, because she was afraid that when the girl turned eighteen, she would not refuse the opportunity to take her place on the throne. Of course, Zelandyne never even thought of that – all she wanted that day was on the occasion of her birthday throw a merry-making. Approaching the palace hall, on the way she already imagined, how hundreds of candles were lit in it, and hundreds of guests entered, with the arrival of which began the bona fide ball. The marchioness saw with her own eyes the graceful cavaliers, who, sparkling in their eyes and clinking their spurs, danced with elegant ladies, and at the very end of the hall she saw the silhouette of a beautiful young man, to whom she wanted to throw herself into the arms”.
Delia Yonce: It sounded boring.
Japhet Byrnes: Just be patient, in each fairy tale there are few interesting descriptions of secular life.
Delia Yonce: Okay.
Japhet Byrnes: “But alas, in fact, there was a copper cauldron in the palace hall, into which the marchioness’s mother threw milkweed leaves, snake fangs and wasp stings. The poisonous brew foamed and seethed, and the sorceress herself furiously whispered over it the words of some spells. When the water finally flooded the coals that lay under the cauldron, The Duchess began to interrogate the prisoner in the chain youthful Sagamore, whom, by her silent decree, the guards brought. She wanted to ask the captive, where hide old men, women and children of broken, but not conquered country. But youthful Sagamore, even under penalty of death, did not tell her anything!”.
Delia Yonce: He’re brave, daring heart!
Japhet Byrnes: “When The Duchess understood, what youthful Sagamore does not agree to commit treason to his motherland, she called the guards behind her and, leaving the prisoner alone, went to give instructions to the slaughterers. Just at that moment, Zelandyne reached the palace hall, and what was the surprise of the marchioness when she caught sight of a handsome, but exhausted and chained young man! She immediately rushed to youthful Sagamore and started asking questions, to which he willingly answered, because he felt a kindred spirit in the girl. Hearing his sad story, the heart of the young marchioness was filled with readiness to regain freedom to youthful Sagamore, but what could her fragile hands do?”.
Jordan Thurlow: I wonder what ideology adhered Leonard Austener, who wrote this fairy tale?
Japhet Byrnes: What are you even talking about?
Jordan Thurlow: Just think about this, mate, this author has a representative of the feudal class became sympathetic to the leader of the oppressed people. Don’t you find that this is some kind of prerequisite for mutiny, a overturn?
Delia Yonce: Will you please stop!
Japhet Byrnes: I agree with you.
Japhet Byrnes: “But at this time in the palace hall came back the Zelandyne’s mother, who, having found her daughter next to the prisoner, immediately ordered to send youthful Sagamore to the dungeon, and she herself attacked the marchioness with loud reproaching cries. When The Duchess realized that objurgations would not help the cause, she gave Zelandyne a pearl-encrusted diadem. In this sparkling attire, the young marchioness seemed so beautiful to everyone, that after her departure, the alarmed woman immediately rushed to her chambers, that ask the Potted Fairy. Answer of little beauty scared her in earnest – according to her forecasts, Zelandyne was supposed to throw The Duchess off the throne any minute”.
Delia Yonce: I just thought The Duchess was a bit like my mommy.
Jordan Thurlow: Interesting, what exactly?
Delia Yonce: To tell the truth, mother also has the same mood swings – then it seems to her that everything is against her, and the next second she is imbued with a great love for the world.
Japhet Byrnes: How many years your mom?
Jordan Thurlow: I don’t know the exact age, but she is younger than her fifty-year-old husband by about twenty years.
Japhet Byrnes: So, thirty something. Midlife crisis, what to take from her…
Japhet Byrnes: “As soon as The Duchess heard Potted Fairy’s prediction, how her soul was immediately filled with hatred and envy for her own daughter, and she decided to take revenge on the young marchioness. She went through many ways of revenge in her head, and in the end decided sell Zelandyne into slavery to some sea-wolf, who then plowed the sea on their huge schooners. The Duchess immediately called for auld Jaeger, over over which she constantly abusing, and ordered him to carry out her order. Auld Jaeger did not dare to disobey his proprietress and took Zelandyne behind the walls of Ducal Chateau. Passing through the gate, he was about to head to the harbour, where the trading schooners were anchored, but fortunately for the marchioness, they got in the way of Clever Crow, who prompted auld Jaeger, that he can just leave the girl on the High Road, but himself return to The Duchess and report her, that the girl was killed on the way by marauders. Auld Jaeger, who was tormented by sympathy for Zelandyne, immediately followed the wise advice of the bird and turned back to Ducal Chateau, and Сlever Crow in turn hid in the branches of an ancient oak that grew by the pathway. Unhappily, The Duchess at the first words of auld Jaeger understood, that she was deceived, and, without listening to his story to the end, ordered her guards to seize auld Jaeger and take into courtyard to trophy guillotine – the very one that her soldiers got in the war with the people of youthful Sagamore”.
Delia Yonce: He shouldn’t have listened other animal’s advice.
Jordan Thurlow: In your words contains a kernel of truth, but, in my opinion, it is indecent to laugh at death.
Delia Yonce: So auld Jaeger is fabled! What’s wrong with laughing at the death of a fictional character?
Japhet Byrnes: “Zelandyne was left alone on the High Road. It was night outside, and the young marchioness became frightened and frightened. Afraid of the dark, she began to call her voice to the night skies, and soon to her desperate cries from the darkness arrived Clever Crow, which already familiar to us. Seeing Zelandyne, he ordered her to follow a swarm of kind-hearted fireflies glowing in the gloom. Young marchioness followed his advice, and finally the insects led her to the crystalline staircase, that led straight to heaven. Zelandyne climbed it and ended up in an amazing place, where, among countless clouds, an island soared, on which, among flowers and trees, there were small, but very lovely lodges, with red tiled roofs and white round walls. When the young marchioness came closer to the settlement, a nimble and agile little man ran out to meet her, in one hand was a lute, and in the other a sheet of paper covered with ink”.
Delia Yonce: It was Minstrel?
Japhet Byrnes: Well, who else would it be? And, as you already guessed, the marchioness ended up in Seventhaven, same magical town!
Delia Yonce: All right, It’s so obvious.

Chapter N.XIV

Japhet Byrnes: “As soon as the little man saw the marchioness, he began to sing loudly and play the lute, and soon to the sound of his music from lodges started coming out other inhabitants of the heavenly town. As soon as they gathered in full force on the street, the oldest looking little man approached Zelandyne and began to interrogate her, who is she and how did she end up in their magical town. Young marchioness did not lie and answered honestly, that this day she turned eighteen years old, and that her mother kicked her out of the home, not even allowing to celebrate this wonderful red-letter day. The inhabitants of the heavenly city were imbued with sympathy for Zelandyne and decided to let her stay with them. Mayor immediately gave the order to build a dwelling for the marchioness, which Mason managed in just ten minutes, because he was always ready all necessary tools and materials”.
Jordan Thurlow: It’s kind of unrealistic, isn’t it…
Delia Yonce: Ajussi Jo, you forgot it was a fairy tale! It doesn’t have to be realistic!
Japhet Byrnes: Truth is on your side.
Japhet Byrnes: “Inhabitant of Seventhaven never regretted that the young marchioness settled in their town – for good Zelandyne paid good, she constantly took care of everyone and baked delicious pies for all her new friends, what they liked very much, for up to this point they had lived on the simple baked meat of animals that Montero had hunted. Besides twiddler Minstrel, who happened to see the marchioness before others, composed about her a very tender ballad, in which he praised her beauty and kindness, and also did not fail to blame her mother for how unfairly she treated her daughter. When he read this ballad to the marchioness herself, heart of Zelandyne filled with a warm feeling for Minstrel, but she did not reciprocate him, for she thought of the youthful Sagamore, whom she supposed was still languishing in captivity with The Duchess”.
Delia Yonce: By the way, for a long time we have not heard something about what happened in Ducal Chateau.
Japhet Byrnes: You’re about to find out.
Japhet Byrnes: “Marchioness’ Mother was not satisfied, how auld Jaeger disposed of her daughter’s life – butchering him on the guillotine, the woman, without wasting a minute, decided to dress like a beggar maid and make one’s way through Seventhaven, why did she invite Chief Executor of Royal Wishes. The point was that since The Duchess lived all her life in splendour, she was completely unaware how does it – to ask for alms. Chief Executor of Royal Wishes spent two whole days with her a couple of exercises, but The Duchess was a very bad schooldame – she constantly broke into a secular tone, which was totally unacceptable to play the role of a beggar maid. Realizing that it will not lead to anything good, her teacher decided to take up the matter himself – Chief Executor of Royal Wishes turned to Potted Fairy and asked her to turn him into a pauper. The effect exceeded all expectations – young man at the behest of a little beauty transformed into an elderly man dressed in dirty rags. One of his eyes was hidden behind a black bandage, and both legs were so crooked, that without a crutch he was completely helpless. From now on, no one could doubt that it’s not subdolous Chief Executor of Royal Wishes, but just an elder and diseased cripple who needs an attitude adjustment”.
Delia Yonce: You can keep reading.
Japhet Byrnes: All right.
Japhet Byrnes: “At the end of servant’s metamorphosis The Duchess handed the cripple a phial of poison, one drop of which was enough to send Zelandyne to The Land of Eternal Dreams. Bowing to his proprietress, Chief Executor of Royal Wishes went out the gate of Ducal Chateau and, waiting for the night, climbed the crystalline staircase into Seventhaven, where, having found the lodge of the young marchioness, he splashed poison on her and immediately rushed to run. however, he made a mistake in his calculations, in courage throwing a phial on the floor – the sound of breaking glass immediately woke up all six inhabitants of the town, who, led by Mayor, rushed in pursuit of the cripple, whose crooked legs have done him a disservice – unable to break away from the persecution, Chief Executor of Royal Wishes lost his crutch and was forced to stop halfway to the descent into ground. And then he had a bad time – very bad! Worse than ever!”.
Delia Yonce: So, what happened to this vile villain?
Jordan Thurlow: I think that Seventhaven’s inhabitants just threw him down the stairs.
Japhet Byrnes: “When the cripple was finished, the inhabitants of Seventhaven returned to the lodge, where the poor marchioness lay motionless in bed – the poison that Chief Executor of Royal Wishes splashed on Zelandyne’s face, plunged the girl into such a deep sleep, that she could not be awakened by any forces. Seventhavenians were gripped by immense grief, and even severe and incredulous Mayor sobbed inconsolably, kneeling by the bed on which lay the lifeless body of the young marchioness. However, soon in Seventhaven our old friend Clever Crow flew in, who explained to the saddened residents how to save the girl – all that was needed for this was to bring a youthful Sagamore into the magical town, who still languished in the dungeon of The Duchess – because they are with Zelandyne love each other!”.
Jordan Thurlow: This is sounds like a tired mantra. Awakening a girl from sleep by kissing…
Delia Yonce: Certainly not, ajussi Jo! It’s so romantic!
Japhet Byrnes: I guess in fairness, in the tale there is not a one word about what exactly was supposed to awaken the marchioness! Maybe a kiss, or maybe something completely different!
Japhet Byrnes: “Seventhavenians gathered a council at which they began to decide which of them should go to rescue the prisoner from dungeon. After several discussions and debates, they came to the conclusion that it should be done by the youngest of all those present – namely, twiddler Minstrel. In less than an hour he had already descended the stairs to the High Road, and, stealthily sneaking into Ducal Chateau, slipped into The Duchess’s bedchamber, where she kept the magic pot. Taking it in hand, Minstrel appealed to its tiny dweller to free the youthful Sagamore. Potted Fairy did not agree to this proposal, and meanwhile the guards heard a noise from the bedchamber. Hearing their stomp, Minstrel fell into a panic and not knowing what to do next, decided to take the most extreme step – he asked the little beauty, so that she scattered palatial walls, to which Potted Fairy agreed without further ado. And when four warriors had already broken through the doors and seized Minstrel, the building suddenly shook and the heavy ceiling collapsed down, burying everyone who at that time was in the Ducal Chateau”.
Delia Yonce: Really, is Minstrel too?
Japhet Byrnes: Yes, him and Potted Fairy died both. Don’t you cry.

Chapter N.XV

Japhet Byrnes: “Of all the Ducal Chateau’s indwellers only one person survived – as it is easy to guess, it was youthful Sagamore, who, taking advantage of the general commotion, got out of his cell a moment before the walls of the dungeon collapsed. After wandering around the wreckage for a while, he got out into the regal garden, where at this time among the crowns of fruit trees and neatly trimmed bushes just taking a break from the day’s worries already familiar to us Сlever Crow. Noticing the survivor, bird immediately flew up from the tree and, slowly circling over his head, told youthful Sagamore about what happened with Zelandyne, and then ordered him to wait until nightfall to climb the crystalline staircase to heaven. Having finished his narrative, Clever Crow flapped his wings and soared into the air, leaving youthful Sagamore alone in the regal garden”.
Delia Yonce: Ajussi Japh, what happened next?
Japhet Byrnes: Our fairy tale has reached its end.
Delia Yonce: Listen, no, hold on, hold on!
Jordan Thurlow: So, did you enjoy this fairy tale?
Delia Yonce: Yeah, that delighted me. I expected it to end in a corny way, but…
Japhet Byrnes: What do you mean by “corny way”?
Delia Yonce: Well… If the youthful Sagamore found the marchioness and kissed her, and they were happy, then it would be quite flatly, although romantic…
Jordan Thurlow: Japh, It’s already difficult for Delia to describe her feelings, and you’re pestering her with your questions. That won’t do, mate.
Japhet Byrnes: Let’s go and eat something, there’s still time.
Japhet Byrnes: Enjoy your meal.
Delia Yonce: What are you writing there, ajussi Japh?
Japhet Byrnes: So, memos for my hobby.
Japhet Byrnes: Open it up to page ninety one and read.
Delia Yonce: Hey, this is my own words! I said them when you were reading me a fairy tale!
Japhet Byrnes: This is for my research regarding American citizens having Greek names.
Jordan Thurlow: It’s a pity, of course, that you don’t have sweets at home, but since we are not here to praise your culinary talents, let’s come to the point.
Jordan Thurlow: Listen to me, Delia. When you and I go home, don’t even think about talking to anyone about what happened. Do you understand?
Delia Yonce: Unfortunately not. What are you on about?
Jordan Thurlow: Fairy tale, about fairy tale. Don’t tell your parents that you listened to it while visiting.
Delia Yonce: I don’t see what’s wrong with that.
Jordan Thurlow: You don’t have to do this. I don’t want them to think that you heard a some baloney from ajussi Japh.
Delia Yonce: Well, ajussi Jo. You told me the same thing when you read me that book in German…
Jordan Thurlow: Yes-yes, about Lord God in the flesh. There was a reason there too, but it’s not relevant. Now you have to remember – act as if nothing happened, is that clear?
Delia Yonce: Okay.
Jordan Thurlow: Do you promise to hold your tongue?
Delia Yonce: I make a promise I won’t tell anyone.
Jordan Thurlow: You’re a very intelligent girl.
Japhet Byrnes: Best of luck out there!

Chapter N.XVI

Mister Yonce: Shouldn’t be doing that.
Delia Yonce: Mom, why can’t I go to ajussi Jo?
Mister Yonce: Because, that neighbourly dog went mad from the heat and ran away, and now he’s wandering around and might bump into you.
Delia Yonce: Are you not going to let me go at all?
Mister Yonce: We can let you go outside, but don’t go to your neighbour. Who knows, what if the dog has already managed to bite him?
Ivette Yonce: He’s got a point. Listen to dad, Delia, and don’t wander around the surroundings alone.
Delia Yonce: So will you allow me or not?
Mister Yonce: No!
Ivette Yonce: Now get ready for school, otherwise you’ll be late! You already missed your exam yesterday!
Mister Yonce: Delia, I want to ask you for one favor.
Delia Yonce: What you means, daddy?
Mister Yonce: Forget about him. About this Jordan.
Delia Yonce: Why, dad?
Mister Yonce: Because, sweetie, that ajussi Jo died.

Chapter N.XVII

Delia Yonce: Died? In what sense?
Mister Yonce: There is such a disease, called cancer.
Delia Yonce: I don’t see how this is…
Mister Yonce: When a person smokes and drinks a lot, then his body gradually withers like a plant, which no one watering.
Ivette Yonce: A good child’s a docile child.
Mister Yonce: It’s a very correct observation.
Delia Yonce: You’ll be telling me, that the parents has no need of genius or thinkers, they need witless implementers!
Ivette Yonce: Santo Deus! Do you know what she did?
Ivette Yonce: Delia was quoting Robespierre before our eyes!
Mister Yonce: Well, what’s so wrong about that?
Ivette Yonce: Moreover, she did have the presence of mind to paraphrase his words!
Mister Yonce: Well, think of the trouble! Daughter is already eight years old, we should be happy that she is developing!
Ivette Yonce: It’s this violator, this infamous…
Mister Yonce: You can rest easy, honey. We taught this varmint a lesson, and he will never dare to even get near our daughter again, though he might wish he could.
Ivette Yonce: Sim, querido! We took revenge for the insulted honour of our family! From now on, no one will dare to look askance at our girl!
Ivette Yonce: What are you thinking about, my joy? You didn’t like my tetrazzini?
Mister Yonce: No, air that I breathe. The dinner was beyond all praise, and I’m sure you were very tired when you prepared it for me and our baby.
Mister Yonce: And therefore, I thought that you, blood in my veins, should take another person as your assistant, so that he would take care of our…
Mister Yonce: Take it easy, heavenly bliss.
Ivette Yonce: I am not “heavenly bliss”!
Mister Yonce: But listen, pleasures I’ve missed! What’s wrong with hiring a nanny to look after our daughter?
Ivette Yonce: I will not tolerate some hoity-toity ninny with the wind in her head deciding for me, how to educate my Delia, my sacrosanct little one!
Delia Yonce: Ajussi Jo! Please tell me, is it really you?
Never Seen Man: Yes, Delia, It’s me.
Delia Yonce: Ajussi Jo, why are you hiding your face from me?
Never Seen Man: Sadly, society has hidden me from you, and I am now never visible to your eyes.
Delia Yonce: Don’t talk to me in riddles. Make this clear.
Never Seen Man: I mean those who separated us. You hear them, don’t you?
Delia Yonce: Ajussi Jo, I’m scared for all of us!
Never Seen Man: They won’t hurt you. I’m the only one they want.
Delia Yonce: No! I will not allow you to be captured! I’d rather die right here than hand you over to them!
Never Seen Man: You’ve got a strong heart. But you shouldn’t risk yourself for me, I’m begging you…
Delia Yonce: That’s not fair!
Never Seen Man: Please, leave me here. I am not in your world, your little eyes cannot see me…
Delia Yonce: Less nonsense, ajussi Jo!

First Act — Tempo De Construção Novamente

Chapter I.I

Galbraith: Come on, young man, show me what’s in your pockets!
Irles Nacht: Who are you to say that?
Galbraith: It doesn’t matter. Please put the nuts back.
Irles Nacht: What nuts? What are you talking about?
Galbraith: I don’t want to use force, so I look forward to your conscientiousness.
Irles Nacht: What do you need from me?
Galbraith: Your name? Address? Place of work?
Irles Nacht: Irles… My name is Irles Nacht.
Galbraith: In the garden elder, and in Vancouver earl.
Pharqraut: What, Galbraith, picked up the pickpocket?
Galbraith: As you can see, buddy.
Pharqraut: Hey you, dodderer! Is it so difficult for you to legally acquire these tiny nuts?
Pharqraut: Listen to me, you learner. Thou shalt not steal! Weren’t you taught this as a kid?
Pharqraut: You are a bad geezer! If you don’t learn my lesson, I’ll gouge your piglet blinkers out!
Galbraith: Get over it, you’re a policeman!
Pharqraut: Do as you wish.
Galbraith: God is with him, Pharqraut. Of course, I didn’t let him commit the theft, but I didn’t intend to put him in prison either.
Pharqraut: How I would like to give him a good-bye kick, so that he learns, lardhead, that stealing is not good…
Galbraith: You really mean that?
Pharqraut: I was joking.
Pharqraut: Take a look at this!
Galbraith: Why are you showing me…
Pharqraut: …most recent news! Don’t blink your eyes, do read what and all will be clear.
Galbraith: Somebody crashed his car, what is so important?
Pharqraut: And you’re just look at his surname.
Galbraith: Huh, what does it matter? I’ve never met the man.
Pharqraut: Well, but I’ve know him. Not in a friendly way, of course, but out of duty. Do you remember, two years ago I went out of town to detain one infantile guy?
Galbraith: Hmm… I recall something. You told me then that the matter was quite dirty.
Pharqraut: What else could there be to do with a little child?
Galbraith: Well, yes, the bastard was detained, so what?
Pharqraut: It just seems strange to me that some time after this, this girl’s father had an accident.
Galbraith: Ah, you go with the mysticism again. Some kind of spirit, you once said…
Pharqraut: The Spirit of Vengeance, yes. But I think you should visit this gentleman.
Galbraith: Do you want me to drop my everything case and go to the hospital?
Pharqraut: Don’t lie, you haven’t been busy for the last week.
Galbraith: Okay, all right, for old times’ sake… But, let me ask you, what benefit will you get from what I tell you upon my return?
Pharqraut: Benefit? To be honest, I don’t really understand it myself. I have this feeling in my heart, you know…
Galbraith: Sister, do you know where placed mister Yonce?
Sister of Charity: Do you mean the one who was hurt from the crash this morning?
Galbraith: Yes, right, of course.
Sister of Charity: He was assigned to the surgical department, on the second floor.
Galbraith: I humbly thank you, sister.
Sister of Charity: Wait, today is not a reception day!
P.A.M.C. Doctor: Bell’s palsy.
Galbraith: Mister Yonce, I’m with the Portland police…
Mister Yonce: Police.
P.A.M.C. Doctor: We will try our best, but at best he won’t really think straight. In fact, he was not seriously injured – no injuries were found on his body, but he had serious problems with his mind…
Galbraith: Can I call from here?
P.A.M.C. Doctor: Yes, of course, the telephone is at the end of the corridor.
Pharqraut: Hello, buddy, is that you?
Galbraith: Hello. Now I’m in Portland Adventist Medical Center.
Pharqraut: Thank you for fulfilling my whim.
Galbraith: I don’t know if what I say will upset you, but in general, mister Yonce got brain damage.
Pharqraut: My condolences… So you didn’t really hear anything from him?
Galbraith: All he could say was parrot the word “police” after me. It seemed to me that this was because he had some kind of mental trauma associated with this.
Pharqraut: Well, well, if you were a father, you wouldn’t be so sad when your… Ahem-ahem…
Galbraith: It slipped from my mind.
Pharqraut: Ah, you’re a holey head. Okay, come on. But wait, how did you guess that I was in the cafe?
Galbraith: I saw you go there.
Pharqraut: And you thought that I had been stuck here for a long time? Ha-ha, you were totally right.
Galbraith: Well, good luck with that.
Pharqraut: We shall meet again!

Chapter I.II

Saussure: Good afternoon, mister Galbraith.
Galbraith: Hi, Saussure.
Saussure: Mister chief inspector Schaeymoure wants to see you.
Galbraith: What this is regarding?
Saussure: He’s waiting for you in his office.
Galbraith: Excuse me, does mister chief inspector Schaeymoure really need me now?
Pauling: Of course. Have you forgotten that today is a meeting on the Pharqraut’s case?
Galbraith: What?
Pauling: Everyone else is already in the chief inspector’s office, only you is missing.
Galbraith: Why didn’t anyone warn me about this in advance?
Pauling: I wanted David to notified you, but mister chief inspector Schaeymoure persuaded not to disturb…
Schaeymoure: So, gentlemen! I hereby declare this meeting in session. I’ll leave it to inspector Pharqraut to briefly summarize the facts.
Pharqraut: Attention, gentlemen. Don’t rush to read these papers.
Pharqraut: So, on the agenda we are dealing with one case. The papers I gave you are a photocopy of the drafts of my material, which I am writing as part of my investigation. Now I want to briefly convey to you the essence of this case, and you will become familiar with the details at a time convenient for you.
Pharqraut: It all started around the beginning of July. The first death was recorded five days after Independence Day of The United States of America.
Maurice: You forgot to mention where this took place.
Pharqraut: Especially for mister Maurice, I will explain that all four cases occurred in different places in our city. First, I will tell you the names of the victims – Theodore Beckel, Penelope Conway, Alexander O’Brent and Dennis Lang.
Pharqraut: Before starting the story, I am obliged to make a small digression. I would never have united these four cases under the same roof if not for one curious fact – the names of all the victims were of Greek origin.
Maurice: You’re talking about your supernatural rubbish again!
Pharqraut: If mister Maurice thinks that I am making the deaths look like some kind of anti-scientific nonsense, then let him continue to think so, but I am not going to give up my investigation.
Schaeymoure: I’ll ask inspector Pharqraut to return to exposition of his case.
Pharqraut: So, I’ll start in order. The first victim was Theodore Beckel, a janitor at the Union Way. At first sight, what happened to him was nothing more than an accident – while returning home from his evening shift, the poor man was hit by a car.
Schaeymoure: Where did it happen?
Pharqraut: Right at the marked crosswalk in front of the shopping center. Death came instantly, the wheels of the car turned his head into a bloody mess.
Galbraith: What is it with him?
Maurice: Haematophobia, the guy is afraid of the mere mention of blood and gore.
Schaeymoure: How did you manage to identify the body?
Pharqraut: Understand that the body belonged to a fifty-year-old Union Way janitor was child’s play – attached to his work uniform was a badge that read “T. Beckel”.
Schaeymoure: Very good, what’s next?
Pharqraut: Now I will begin to describe the second victim – Penelope Conway, twenty-year-old saleswoman in duty-free shop, specializing in all kinds of powders – washing, insect repellents and so on.
Pharqraut: The saleswoman was found dead in her apartment, her body was discovered by her own aunt, who came to her to give her some book telling about ancient Greek myths.
Schaeymoure: Cause of death?
Pharqraut: This is a difficult question from a medical point of view. No signs of violence or visible injuries were found on the body of the deceased.
Maurice: I guess it might be poison.
Pharqraut: Do you think Penelope Conway committed suicide?
Maurice: I haven’t seen this lady’s corpse, how can I know for sure? I’m just make assumptions.
Schaeymoure: What was the woman wearing when her body was discovered?
Pharqraut: Well… The deceased was wearing a light white dress, cinched with satin ribbon.
Schaeymoure: What about shoes?
Pharqraut: The saleswoman had alpargatas on her feet with ties around the ankle.

Chapter I.III

Pharqraut: Next we will talk about thirty-two-year-old Alexander O’Brent. He was, to put it mildly…
Pharqraut: He was a conductor of night-walkers.
Galbraith: Pimpf, he was pimpf.
Maurice: You probably misspoke.
Pharqraut: I want to add, that prior to this, mister O’Brent came from Atlanta, state Georgia, where he worked as a cashier at Chick-fil-A.
Nelissen: Huh, at first this dropout was selling fried chickens, and then switched to different chicks!
Pharqraut: Determining what Alexander O’Brent died from was an easy task. His body was found in the room of Eastside Lodge, where he was called by one of his subordinates.
Schaeymoure: Name of light-o’-love?
Pharqraut: Miss F…
Nelissen: S-s-sorry, pleas-s-se!
Schaeymoure: On what issue did fille de joie call mister O’Brent?
Pharqraut: It was a trivial point. She came across a nervous client who categorically refused to pay.
Schaeymoure: Name of client?
Pharqraut: Thirty-four year old Eugene Woods, we have not yet been able to establish his place of work.
Schaeymoure: Try harder.
Pharqraut: As a matter of fact, O’Brent met his death in his motel room. The client fell into a state of passion and right in front of the fancy woman stabbed pimpf in the ribs with a knife, and when he fell to the floor, mister Woods began to kick him in a rage.
Pharqraut: When the police arrived at the crime scene, then Alexander has only a terrible bloody pulp left in place of his manhood.
Pharqraut: The last victim was Dennis Lang. He was an entomologist living in the Portland suburbs. Generous heart…
Maurice: You’re starting to drool.
Pharqraut: He died as a true altruist. Dennis gave his life to save another person.
Schaeymoure: Mister Maurice is right, you should focus on the facts, not the personality of the deceased.
Pharqraut: All right. Lang was once walking near his house and saw a little boy running away from a mad dog with heart-rending screams.
Galbraith: You speak as if you were an eyewitness to what happened.
Pharqraut: These details were given to me by his neighbour, missis Taggert.
Pharqraut: In general, the entomologist rushed to help the baby, but unfortunately he tripped on a stone and fell right in front of the hound’s nose, which did not deny itself the pleasure of attacking the man lying in front of him.
Schaeymoure: Is everything okay with that kid?
Pharqraut: Little boy was rescued, but at the cost of the life of his saviour. When poor Dennis Lang was taken to the hospital, his body was so damaged by the teeth of a rabid animal that he, without regaining consciousness, left this world in a hospital bed that evening.
Schaeymoure: What happened to mad dog?
Pharqraut: According to missis Taggert, hound, having finished with the entomologist, ran away in an unknown direction. We didn’t bother looking for her.
Galbraith: Of course, because our smaller brothers stemming from garbage.
Pharqraut: You forgot that a dog can have an owner.
Galbraith: Never mind.
Schaeymoure: Well, gentlemen, I hope inspector Pharqraut’s story gave you an idea of the kind of case our police department was faced with. Now it’s time to give your comments on this matter.
Maurice: I have been practising criminal medicine for fifteen years now, but I can’t overemphasize how mister Pharqraut managed to put together four completely different deaths.
Maurice: I state that death by rabid dog bites and death under the wheels of a car, of course, there are similarities in that they are accidents, but…
Pharqraut: I’m disgusted when people don’t look before they leap.
Maurice: How dare you speak to me in this manner?
Schaeymoure: With the departure of the man on whose case we have gathered in this office, I think I can call the meeting officially closed.
Galbraith: Oh tobacco, you the world…

Chapter I.IV

Galbraith: Lord, where am I drifting?
Galbraith: Looks like somebody is having fun with me.

Chapter I.V

Galbraith: I was there at the birth…
Galbraith: Come on out, newborn, try to devour your obstetrician!
Anderson: What’ll it be? Maybe “Brown Horse”?
Galbraith: No thanks, better gave me a warmed beer.
Anderson: One moment.
Anderson: Here’s your order.
Galbraith: Excuse me?
Anderson: Would you like to eat a little? We’re having pizza today, the time is right.
Galbraith: Pizza?
Galbraith: You’re referring to breakfast? Yes, of course, give me a piece.
Lawrence Wilcox: Sorry, mister…
Galbraith: What are you standing there for?
Lawrence Wilcox: Are you inspector Galbraith?
Galbraith: Do we know each other?
Lawrence Wilcox: No mister, just one man ask you to answer the phone.
Galbraith: Okay, hold on a minute. I ordered pizza, could you ask to wrapped it a to-go?
Lawrence Wilcox: All right, I’ll tell mister Anderson.
Galbraith: Who are you, I’m sorry?
Schaeymoure: Schaeymoure bothers you.
Galbraith: Forgive me, mister chief inspector, it’s just hard to hear here.
Schaeymoure: Galbraith, I would like to meet you.
Galbraith: Roger, mister chief inspector. When I’m…
Schaeymoure: I would prefer not to postpone the meeting. Do you have time?
Galbraith: I’m all yours, mister chief inspector, it’s only morning.
Schaeymoure: That’s good, I don’t want to delay this until tomorrow. So you can?
Galbraith: Yes of course.
Schaeymoure: Excellent. You know where I live?
Galbraith: Not, but I’m…
Schaeymoure: Do you have something to write on?
Galbraith: Wait a second…
Galbraith: All is ready, dictate.
Schaeymoure: So, write – Rollo, fifty five. It’s very close to Portland State University.
Schaeymoure: Can you come immediately?
Galbraith: Yes, mister chief inspector, I will try to come to you as quickly as possible.
Schaeymoure: Maybe you will be more comfortable in one or two hours?
Galbraith: I can do it any second now.
Schaeymoure: Okay then, Galbraith. Waiting for you.
Lawrence Wilcox: Pizza is ready, pick up your order.
Galbraith: Thanks to you…
Lawrence Wilcox: My name is Lawrence, Lawrence Wilcox.
Galbraith: My gratitude to you, Lawrence. Say hi to your father!
Lawrence Wilcox: And what is your…
Galbraith: Just call me Galbraith. Your dad always served me in this place.
Galbraith: How much do I owe you for this?

Chapter I.VI

First rapper: Call me “jerk” again, and I’ll park your truck dead in your arse!
Second rapper: Bud, I’d bust this shit right now.
First rapper: He ain’t gonna bust nothing.
Third rapper: I got nuts bigger than him.
First rapper: Whoa, country-clod, maple-syrup mutt!
Third rapper: Yeah, you want some biscuits?
Second rapper: You want some biscuits?
First rapper: Suck it down!
First rapper: What does this white-skinned asshole allow himself to do?
Third rapper: No doubt, he just hitting on us!
Pharqraut: I can’t believe I’m losing you. Or maybe not?
Pharqraut: Stop bang the head, come on get up!
Pharqraut: Looks like you was off, bud!
Galbraith: Sorry, what’s wrong with me?
Pharqraut: Let’s go sit in the shade. Because the heat is fierce…
Pharqraut: Yes, I’m going about my deals, and I see you standing in the alley, looking at some rappers. When you laughed and began to run away from them, I decided to follow you – you never know, I’ll have to protect you from these trinity. And I noticed that you turned into a dead end. Well, I think that my friend, out of fear, without understanding the road, went wherever his eyes looked. I follow you and see that you are running circles in front of the mirror, like a dog that wants to catch its tail. I run up to you, and you open your mouth and your eyes are so bulging. I figured that you’ll be swinging. I couldn’t find any other way to stop your madness other than to hit you over the head and drag you out here.
Pharqraut: You don’t got a headache?
Galbraith: No, it doesn’t hurt. I just couldn’t open my eyes or move my tongue.
Pharqraut: Probably numbness, or some sort of a paralysis. How did you even get into this condition? Maybe you injected yourself with something, huh?
Galbraith: Go take your narcotics away somewhere else, Pharqraut, you know me…
Pharqraut: What other word is there for it? Do you really want to convince me that you were so scared of those three African-Americans that you decided to hide from them in some dead end and, thinking that no one would see you there, you gave vent to your nerves?
Galbraith: I’m not going to persuade you, bud…
Pharqraut: In this case, tell me what you yourself felt at that moment.
Galbraith: I swear narcotics have nothing to do with that. I just left the bar and, on my way to Rollo Street, I happened to pass by an alley where three gangsta rappers were preparing to shoot each other over some trifle. I laughed to distract them from this idea, and calmly walked on. And, not knowing that this was a dead end, he entered the passage. But I’m afraid you may not believe what happened next…
Pharqraut: I’ll believe you, don’t worry. Okay, continue.
Galbraith: Okay. In the passage, I came close to the mirror and suddenly noticed that my reflection did not react to my movements. And then I felt an earthquake begin. I wanted to run back, but everything was blocked behind me. And then a wave of blood poured out of the mirror onto me. Choking, I lost consciousness. Thank you for, as it turns out, following me all this time.
Pharqraut: Don’t consider me your guardian angel, buddy. Well, you’ve taken a great trip…
Galbraith: You still think it’s a narcotic?
Pharqraut: I don’t think so anymore, I just can’t describe your incident any other way. Good, come quickly…
Galbraith: Wait a second, I think my shoe is untied…
Shelby: Why is this ajussi crying?
Shelby’s Dad: Shelby, how many times do I have to tell you – do not comment on passers-by!

Chapter I.VII

Schaeymoure: Now, let’s just get right into it.
Galbraith: Well, what’s at stake of our today’s meeting?
Schaeymoure: Yes, this is it.
Galbraith: What, are you want me to recite to you by heart everything that is written there?
Schaeymoure: Well, Galbraith, there’s no need for that. I already know this document perfectly from line to line. I’m more interested in what you think of its content.
Galbraith: Forgive me generously, mister chief inspector, but I, whatever that is…
Schaeymoure: So, what’s next?
Galbraith: I… I haven’t read the Pharqraut’s case.
Schaeymoure: It’s nice enough. Will be better check it out already under the influence.
Schaeymoure: Be sure to try Pimm’s, fruit liqueur. Ideally, you should drink it with some fruit, but I like it on its own. I hope you appreciate it in value..
Galbraith: Something that is familiar…
Schaeymoure: There’s England’s spirit.
Galbraith: England scent!
Schaeymoure: By the way, why did you decide to leave your fatherland?
Galbraith: Huh, why aske you?
Schaeymoure: Just idle curiosity.
Galbraith: Would you like me to entertain you during your evening aperitif?
Schaeymoure: I understand your state of mind. Let me share with you my thoughts on the Pharqraut’s case? After all, your friend was a remarkable person, and I was always interested to know how he expressed his thoughts on paper.
Galbraith: Was…
Schaeymoure: Are you are not satisfied with what I said about your colleague in the past tense?
Galbraith: No, everything suits me.
Schaeymoure: Well, then it’s a good. Then let me begin.
F.B.I. Agent: Hello! Go outside, a car waiting for you downstairs.
Galbraith: I fear you are making a mistake…
F.B.I. Agent: There’s no mistake, inspector! Dispatch call from Parkrose Neighborhood, they say suicide. Paramedics have already arrived at the scene and are waiting for the police.
Galbraith: Fine, give me a minute.
Matt MacLaren: What, the music is bad?
Galbraith: No, the song is pretty much okay, only its lyrics are shamelessly outdated.
Matt MacLaren: I’ll ask the driver to switch channels.
Matt MacLaren: Well, that’s better?
Galbraith: To be honest, I really don’t care.
Matt MacLaren: If you’re thirsty, I will give you a drink.
Galbraith: What have you got for me?
Matt MacLaren: Take a hold.
Galbraith: Huh, nice. Coffee with?..
Matt MacLaren: Sugar, just sugar.
Matt MacLaren: Drink it down, I had a very substantial breakfast.
Galbraith: Thank you very much.
Galbraith: Don’t you know who this is?
Matt MacLaren: He’s from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. A stern guy, but a little twitchy.
F.B.I. Agent: Mister Matt MacLaren, I would advise you to refrain from criticism of my person!
Matt MacLaren: We should have introduced you to our inspector somehow.
Saussure: We have reached our destination.

Chapter I.VIII

Matt MacLaren: Come now, inspector, come into the house.
Elsebeth Roselieu: At last, a professional from F.B.I.!
Galbraith: Can you explain to us what the exactly happened?
Elsebeth Roselieu: And you are an inspector, as I understand it?
Galbraith: I was called here like everyone else.
Elsebeth Roselieu: All right, I got it. Anyway, I’m walking past the Yonce’s house and I hear a shot…
Matt MacLaren: We should sit down and discuss it calmly.
Matt MacLaren: Are we to remove our shoes before entering the house?
Elsebeth Roselieu: The weather is nice outside now, this is not necessary.
Elsebeth Roselieu: So, I heard a shot and, sensing something was wrong, I ran to the Yonces, fortunately the gate and the front door were open.
Galbraith: Did this seem strange to you?
Elsebeth Roselieu: Of course. I thought that robbers had broken into their house.
Galbraith: Okay, go ahead.
Elsebeth Roselieu: I run into the house, and there, right next to this mirror, Ivette is lying on the floor…
Galbraith: Let me guess – the lady of the house shot herself with a pistol?
Elsebeth Roselieu: That’s right… Parabellum was lying on the floor in front of her…
Galbraith: Did you see the bullet mark on her body?
Elsebeth Roselieu: I… I saw blood flowing from her forehead…
Galbraith: Okay, madame…
F.B.I. Agent: Well, what we are and will stagnate?
Galbraith: So, that you have taken hereafter?
Elsebeth Roselieu: I immediately went upstairs where the phone was. I called the police, they arrived with paramedics.
Galbraith: Has missis Yonce’s body been taken away yet?
Elsebeth Roselieu: You should have seen their car outside.
Galbraith: Very well, I understand.
Galbraith: They were obviously waiting for you here more than me, so I’ll get out of your way.
Elsebeth Roselieu: Don’t be afraid, it’s just the police, come down!
Elsebeth Roselieu: Well, I got to go, messrs. I think the young lady can tell you anything else.
F.B.I. Agent: So, so, so…
F.B.I. Agent: Your name?
Galbraith: Don’t be scared, sweetie. We just want you to gave us the essence of things. Good?
Galbraith: Will you tell us what your name is?
Delia Yonce: Delia.
Galbraith: Listen, Delia, you won’t say a few words about how your mom, well, that’s the most…
Delia Yonce: Ascended unto heaven?
Galbraith: Did she tell you that herself?
Delia Yonce: Yes. Mommy took daddy’s gun and told me not to cry when she will ascend unto heaven.
F.B.I. Agent: Did your mother never ascended before, when she giving herself injections?
Galbraith: Do not listen to him, he was only joking.
F.B.I. Agent: Tell me, where is your father?
F.B.I. Agent: Do you know where he might be now?
F.B.I. Agent: Why won’t you speak?
Galbraith: Easy, tiger! If you don’t know how to work with children and only attack them, then stay where you are and don’t interfere. It’s clear?
Matt MacLaren: Bravo, mister inspector, bravo!
Galbraith: So, Delia, your mother’s got the gun. What did she do before that?
Delia Yonce: Before this, mommy was lying in bed.
F.B.I. Agent: Are you saying that…
Delia Yonce: I went to her and asked when dad would be back. She said she didn’t know and wept.
Delia Yonce: I began to console mommy, but she asked me to go for a walk. I didn’t want to leave her alone, but I obeyed.
Galbraith: And when did you return?
Delia Yonce: After half an hour. I went home and saw mommy standing in front of the mirror. I asked her what she was doing, but she raised hand with the gun to head.
Galbraith: You said a minute ago that she told you something before that?
Delia Yonce: When mommy fell, I ran to her and she whispered to me not to cry.
Galbraith: Was it true?
Delia Yonce: Her voice was almost inaudible. But I understood from her eyes what she wanted to say.
Galbraith: Okay, Delia.
Galbraith: Do you have relatives in the center?
Delia Yonce: Relatives?
Galbraith: Well, uncle, aunt, grandmother…
Delia Yonce: I only have dad and mom.
Galbraith: From now on, it’s only dad…
Delia Yonce: Appositely when will he come?
Galbraith: He’s sick, he needs to get treatment.
Delia Yonce: And when will he be cured?
Galbraith: I can’t say, the disease is serious.

Chapter I.IX

Galbraith: Do you have close friends or classmates?
Delia Yonce: No.
Galbraith: Nothing at all? Okay, not close ones, just your acquaintances?
Delia Yonce: Really, no!
Galbraith: Okay Delia, I get it.
Galbraith: Well, this isn’t good. Apparently, the guardianship authorities will have to be involved in this matter.
Matt MacLaren: Don’t look so glum. We have not yet made a request to search for her relatives. The young lady may not have known her parents’ cousins or second cousins by sight, but this does not mean that she is alone in this world.
Galbraith: You’re an optimist, Matt, I’ve always liked that about you, but here’s a case…
Matt MacLaren: All is not lost, mister inspector.
Galbraith: Suit yourself. But still, where should we place her until the circumstances are clarified?
Matt MacLaren: You can talk to that woman, the witness. They, it seemed to me, knew each other well.
Galbraith: Sergeant Saussure, don’t you know where that woman went?
Saussure: Which one, mister inspector?
Galbraith: Well, with a scarf on her head…
Saussure: You mean Elsebeth Roselieu? She went out the gate and the trail went cold.
Galbraith: Yes, couldn’t be better…
Galbraith: Matt, where’s the baby?
Matt MacLaren: The girl went upstairs. Said she wanted to change clothes.
Galbraith: All right. I’ll go away for now.
Galbraith: Where you’re headed, if it’s not indiscreet?
Delia Yonce: Am I not coming with you?
Galbraith: Well, you know…
F.B.I. Agent: Mister inspector, while you were in the bathroom, the telephone rang upstairs. I picked up the phone and was ordered to report to you to come to the police department immediately.
Galbraith: Curious… Did the caller not introduce himself?
F.B.I. Agent: No, but from the voice I determined that the subscriber was aged.
Galbraith: Approved. Now you listen to me. If I have now been ordered to leave, then I do not dare disobey the orders of my superiors, but I want you let this eat into your mind – if it’s in your stupid head the idea to be rude to this girl will come again, I swear what am I will scrape you out from earth. You got that?
F.B.I. Agent: Roger, mister inspector!
Galbraith: Well, way to go.
Matt MacLaren: This guy told me that you are going to the police now. Well, good luck to you.
Galbraith: Thanks for saying that, Matt.
Galbraith: Then farewell, Delia.
Delia Yonce: What, you are leaving me?
Galbraith: Stay here, but I need to go to the city. We’ll take care of you.
Galbraith: Sorry, do you know how to get to the center from here?
Patricia: Did you are not a local? You might have killed me!
Patricia: You can get to the center from here by bus. You’re just in time for…
Galbraith: Where is the stop?
Patricia: Will you walk along this road, then turn right, go past the tobacco shop, and then go straight. When you hit the concrete barrier, turn left and there will be a bus stop…
Galbraith: Thanks.
Patricia: You’ll reach the city in about forty minutes!
Galbraith: Outside the bullseye again!
Schaeymoure: Imagine that you are aiming not at an abstract figure, but at your enemy.
Galbraith: Yeah, I have trouble keeping up with you.
Schaeymoure: Listen, Galbraith. I understood your health condition and decided to suit your sensibilities.
Galbraith: An if more specifically?
Schaeymoure: With this in mind, you must rest and relax. There will be no tasks until the day after tomorrow.
Galbraith: I am flattered, but…
Schaeymoure: However, it is necessary. We are not machines, Galbraith. Policemen, like all people, also need recreation. I give you permission to spend one day as you please.
Galbraith: Well, I won’t dare to disobey the your order.
Anderson: “Brown Horse”?
Galbraith: Is that really me?

Chapter I.X

Billeteur: So, did you bent at such an early hour?
Galbraith: No-no, I just was staring at that sign.
Billeteur: I know you Americans, it is the morning, the drinking.
Galbraith: Well, where are you from?
Billeteur: I? Ich bin Deutscher!
Galbraith: Are they showing a movie here?
Billeteur: How else? For German immigrants, onkel Korble founded a small cinema here two years ago.
Galbraith: And what films are shown here?
Billeteur: In Deutsch, of course. However, if you don’t know our language at all, this is not a problem.
Galbraith: Can I come to the session?
Billeteur: You’re just in time, last seat left.
Galbraith: All right, then I’m all in.

Chapter I.XI

Galbraith: Have you seen this film yourself?
Billeteur: How could I not watch what I was going to show to the audience?
Galbraith: Well, what do you think of it?
Billeteur: I have no idea if you know, but this director, to put it mildly, specializes in films for adults, so the creation itself is appropriate.
Galbraith: And if you dig little deeper?
Billeteur: So, it’s actually based on a Russian book.
Galbraith: Have you read it?
Billeteur: Never had a chance. But experts say that the director did not understand its essence and ended up filming rare nonsense.
Billeteur: If you’re asking me about this film like that, does that mean it made an impression on you?
Galbraith: I like it.
Billeteur: Ha-ha! If you, an American, liked the delusional creation of not the best German director, then I’m even afraid to imagine the depths to which your own filmmakers have sunk!
Billeteur: The machine of your cinema consists more than entirely of parts stolen in Europe! You steal the worst ideas of our directors and make this, as you call it, a business out of it! Your cinema is not dead, it has been dead since birth!
Galbraith: Okay, okay, I understand. By the way, aren’t you Korble himself?
Billeteur: You are probably the first person to confuse me with onkel Korble! Every German here knows him!
Galbraith: Well, I’m not German.
Billeteur: I’m his right hand, if it hasn’t dawned on you yet.
Galbraith: Good luck staying here!
Norman Van Riesen: Maestro, say “você”! “Você” means “you”!
Galbraith: Good day, Matt!
Matt MacLaren: Hi.
Galbraith: Do you know how young lady Yonce is doing?
Matt MacLaren: This is the essence of things.
Galbraith: I’m sorry…
Matt MacLaren: Today’s news stinks… Buddy, you’re not in a hurry, are you?
Galbraith: No… But why do they stinks?
Matt MacLaren: Listen here. Anyway, when we brought the girl here, she began to complain about, well, as is usual with womankind…
Galbraith: What, you mean it’s a Delia started menstruating? In ten years?
Matt MacLaren: Yeah, it’s rare, but it’s not impossible. But I’m not going to talk about that. In short, medic Maurice came up to her complaint and she began to describe to him… Briefly, then girl said that she had a parasite inside her…
Galbraith: That doesn’t make any sense.
Matt MacLaren: Of course she didn’t put it that way, they are no such thing. In general, Maurice became worried and told the girl to be taken to Randall Children’s Hospital and volunteered to accompany her himself.
Galbraith: So keep doing it.
Matt MacLaren: Then I can only remember what he himself told me, since I was not an eyewitness to those events.
Matt MacLaren: In general, Maurice with Delia arrived at Randall Children’s Hospital, and there they immediately went to see a gynaecologist. He, having examined the patient, said that she really had something inside…
Galbraith: Erm…
Matt MacLaren: No, it wasn’t pregnancy, this is something else.

Chapter I.XII

Matt MacLaren: And then the gynaecologist told Maurice that they would put the young lady in the ward for now and begin preparations for the operation to remove… Oh, forgot this medical term… But I remember that, according to Maurice, that man had never encountered anything like this before in his entire career.
Galbraith: A rather interesting story…
Matt MacLaren: I have not yet finished. Then Maurice, leaving his home phone number to the gynaecologist, left the hospital and went home. This was the day before yesterday.
Galbraith: Okay, so what happened next?
Matt MacLaren: And yesterday they called him late in the evening – they said that they had already looked at everything and prepared for everything, and tomorrow they would perform a hysterectomy on the little girl.
Galbraith: What exactly do they do?
Matt MacLaren: Uterus removal.
Galbraith: My God!
Matt MacLaren: I am also shocked by it too, like you. Even at twenty-eight years old, such an operation is already a serious step, but here is a little child…
Galbraith: Why they decided to do it?
Matt MacLaren: All right, bud, cool.
Galbraith: Tell me why?
Matt MacLaren: Well… Maurice told me that this thing – I don’t remember the term – almost completely grown into the endometrium, and without complete removal of the uterus, the gynaecologist saw no other way to help the young lady.
Matt MacLaren: And this morning Maurice received a call that the girl, how should I put it…
Galbraith: Don’t hesitate, please…
Matt MacLaren: In general, staff of Randall Children’s Hospital said that her pulse had stopped being palpable.
Galbraith: What was the name of the gynaecologist who led the operation?
Matt MacLaren: I recall Maurice saying it was…
Galbraith: Name, bud, I need a name!
Matt MacLaren: How you much hotter… So, he told me that the gynaecologist introduced himself to him as doctor Baselard.
R.C.H. Operator: You called Randall Children’s Hospital.
Galbraith: Hello, could you give me doctor Baselard’s home address?
R.C.H. Operator: We do not disclose personal…
Galbraith: I’m from Portland Police Bureau.
R.C.H. Operator: Okay, hold the line.
Galbraith: It’s you doctor Baselard?
Baselard: May I ask what this is regarding?
Baselard: I hope your interest in my person is not too comprehensive…
Galbraith: Don’t worry, the police just have a few questions for you.
Galbraith: Let’s drink tea and in a quiet atmosphere you will answer me…
Baselard: I’ll put the kettle on, but you can ask questions right now.
Galbraith: You’re at it in a hurry?
Baselard: To England, on affairs.
Galbraith: Good. You just got out of surgery, I take it?
Baselard: It feels like you’re clairvoyant, mister.
Galbraith: Really, no need for compliments. Who was operated on?
Baselard: That so small, so plain thing.
Galbraith: What were you doing before?
Baselard: Well, I did all kinds of surgeries.
Galbraith: In America?
Baselard: Both in America and in England, where, in fact, I was born.
Galbraith: All right.
Baselard: So, you drink tea with sweets or just like that?
Galbraith: I love marmalade. Do you have a couple of pieces?
Baselard: Hmm… I will try to fulfill your plea.

Chapter I.XIII

Galbraith: This is definitely the same person.
Galbraith: You killed this woodcutter twenty-four years ago. And this morning there was a little girl under your X-acto knife. She walked towards her destiny, could change the course of history, but unfortunately…
Baselard: What do you want from me, you worm? A confession? Here’s your confession!
Baselard: I disposed with theirs souls like Lord God, because I felt like doing it, do you understand?!
Baselard: Only don’t come near me, you wronged, trembling creature!
Baselard: You won’t go on?! Get out of here!
Saussure: How can I help you, mister inspector? Here’s the thing, one citizen is from Portugal. Accompanied by three of his friends, he arrived here and wants to urgently talk with our superiors…
Saussure: But they don’t have time to wait, they’re in a hurry to get to the airport.
Schaeymoure: Well, Galbraith, let’s see what you dug up there. Will you please take a seat?
Galbraith: The first picture shows a woodcutter who died twenty-four years ago. It happened in Gloucester, where I spent my childhood. The poor guy died right on the operating table – they opened his brain to remove the tumour. And in the second picture shows the Yonce family with their little daughter, who would have celebrated her eleventh birthday next year, but unfortunately she died this morning in a room at Randall Children’s Hospital after surgery to remove a vital internal organ.
Schaeymoure: So…
Galbraith: The same person is behind both of these deaths – doctor Baselard, who was worked in the hospital I mentioned. I say “was” because this morning, just after the death of the child, the doctor packed his things and left for England, in order, I am sure, to avoid prosecution.
Galbraith: I don’t expect him to return to America.
Schaeymoure: You are aware, Galbraith. You are clearly so concerned about the fate of this young lady that I feel obliged to send you to Jordan Thurlow.
Galbraith: Excuse me, but who that is?
Schaeymoure: A person who is serving a sentence in Columbia River Correctional Institution. He was sentenced to eighteen years in prison on suspicion of raping an underage girl who was the daughter of his neighbours. The court accused him of taking advantage of her mother’s trust and forcing her to visit his house, where he put pressure on her.
Schaeymoure: Before his arrest, mister Thurlow, according to the victim’s parents, abused her at his friend’s apartment. In general, it is worth noting that the girl had a very emotional father, he was ready to literally do anything to put both men behind bars, but the court ruled that Jordan’s friend was not proven.
Galbraith: Well, and what do you suggest I do?
Schaeymoure: Ride to Columbia River Correctional Institution and ask to have an audience with this prisoner. As far as I know, he’s actually not a bad guy at all, but the power of public reprimand…
Galbraith: What will I get out of this?
Schaeymoure: That it depends only on you, Galbraith. Maybe peace of mind, or maybe a thirst for action. Either way, Thurlow’s words will bring clarity to your thoughts.
Schaeymoure: I don’t undertake to decide what you need, I can only say how I imagine your further tactic. You want to go all the way and destroy that person, right?
Galbraith: Sorry, did you really…
Schaeymoure: This is a figurative expression, because no one is going to bring this matter to the complete destruction of the suspect. We are policemen, not executioners.
Galbraith: So what should I do right now?
Schaeymoure: Go there.

Second Act — Uma Moldura Quebrada

Chapter II.I

Galbraith: So, I have the honour of seeing before me Jordan Thurlow, the same man who, two years and five months ago, was sentenced in United States District Court for the District of Oregon in the criminal case of one Delia Yonce?
Galbraith: Your words, Jordan, will help my investigation.

Chapter II.II

Jordan Thurlow: Well, chum, I suffered today… How are you?
Jordan Thurlow: What kind of nonsense am I saying. I collided with the eyes of an unfamiliar girl and, pardon me, almost died on the spot. I’m completely went limp!

Chapter II.III

Jordan Thurlow: By the way, did anyone get your hair cut today?
Kelsey Pettipas: You are the first client, calm down. For at such an early hour few people bother to get a haircut.
Mister Yonce: What kind of behavior is that? Laugh at the top of your voice. What are you, a horse?
Japhet Byrnes: How’s it feel?
Japhet Byrnes: I actually took these sandwiches by accident. I leave the boss all cheerful, go down to the street and feel like I want something harmful. Remembering that there was a diner next to the highway, I got on my motorcycle and went. I’m driving in general, and, noticing a sign, I stop. At the checkout I say “I’ll have two beef and two chicken”, and, having paid with what I found in my pockets, I continue on my way home. But, having already entered my apartment, I realized that I could not cope with everyone, and I satisfied my hunger with only one. Anyway, but he fed you. There’s nothing to eat at home, right?

Chapter II.IV

Japhet Byrnes: Listen, mate, what now writing in papers!
Jordan Thurlow: Japh, you know…
Japhet Byrnes: “Dog earned an bacon”.
Japhet Byrnes: In a controversy, two dog trainers decided to find out which breed is the most patient and causes more sympathy among others”.
Jordan Thurlow: What kind of cynological quarrels…
Japhet Byrnes: “To resolve the issue, they arranged an examination for their pets”.
Jordan Thurlow: Do you really thinking, what this is interesting to me?
Japhet Byrnes: Wait a bit, it will be more interesting further.
Jordan Thurlow: You always tell everyone that “more interesting further”.
Japhet Byrnes: “Cummins and I decided to check whose dog performs the commands “Stay” and “Sit” better, – tells Nuell Saberlow, famous cytologist-instructor of Portland”.
Japhet Byrnes: “We both decided to left our dogs for a whole hour on Pearl District. Well, on a bit of a lark, I placed two felt hats next to them and a “I’M ASKING FOR BACON” signs too”.
Jordan Thurlow: It seems that these are circus performers, not dog handlers.
Japhet Byrnes: “The winner was my Labrador Flarie – passers-by were pleased to encourage the gallant white giant, who also bowed at each donation”.
Japhet Byrnes: Do you think you would have acted the same as the onlookers from Pearl District?
Jordan Thurlow: Well, that’s unlikely. I have my own dog, why should I give money to someone else?
Japhet Byrnes: There is common sense in your words. Only dogless apartment residents can afford such expenses.
Jordan Thurlow: How would you do it yourself?
Japhet Byrnes: I?
Jordan Thurlow: You yourself live in an apartment and don’t have a dog.
Japhet Byrnes: “In an hour Saberlow’s dog Flarie earned whole eight United States dollars, and his competitor, Cummins’ fearsome rottweiler named Raider, just a measly two American bucks”.
Jordan Thurlow: I hate rottweilers, Japh! I hate ’em!
Japhet Byrnes: You’re not the only one in Portland, it’s now scientifically proven.
Jordan Thurlow: Was that the end of the article?
Japhet Byrnes: Yes, that’s the whole note. Or do you think that an article about some trainer would deserve a separate page?
Jordan Thurlow: It’s understandable. The best thing about it is the eye-catching title.
Japhet Byrnes: And if remove it, then there would be nothing interesting left.
Jordan Thurlow: So why did you read it to me then?
Japhet Byrnes: You can take her with you.
Jordan Thurlow: No-no, I’ll just take a look.
Jordan Thurlow: This is the same trainer who helped our family with dogs!
Japhet Byrnes: What, do you feel proud that your friends are mentioned in the press?
Japhet Byrnes: Curious, how much would your Belgian malinois earn?
Jordan Thurlow: I don’t think anyone would give him even a cent, he’s so rude…
Japhet Byrnes: This same Saberlow fitted it for you, right?
Jordan Thurlow: Yes of course.
Japhet Byrnes: Everyone is always fooling you, and then they write about those who fooled you in the newspapers.
Jordan Thurlow: Stop it.
Japhet Byrnes: Well, you must have been very surprised when you opened the folder yesterday and saw materials about Greece there? Yesterday I was quite surprised when, instead of materials regarding Kinthia, I found in my folder sheets covered in someone else’s handwriting, telling about some book bestsellers in Munich in the seventies.
Jordan Thurlow: No, Japh, to be honest, I was so tired yesterday during the bus ride that I was too lazy to look at the materials – I immediately went to wash. And you distracted me from the bath with your call.
Japhet Byrnes: Well, I’m sorry, Jo, I didn’t know that you were simmering in boiling water like a chicken in a saucepan.
Jordan Thurlow: Oh, how I’m already sick of this chicken topic!
Jordan Thurlow: Well, excuse me, chum, I completely forgot that you’ve been hungry for six whole days.
Jordan Thurlow: Okay, Jo, remember – you must feed the dog, otherwise you will pay dearly for not looking after protector!
Jordan Thurlow: What a nightmare!

Chapter II.V

Delia Yonce: Have you got a dog, ajussi Jo?
Jordan Thurlow: Yes, we live here together, I’m at home and Buffalo is out.
Delia Yonce: He’s protecting you, right?
Jordan Thurlow: Certainly. I can’t stand dogs that eat their owners but don’t do any good.
Delia Yonce: My dad thinks so too. We never had animals at home, although I asked him…
Jordan Thurlow: Yes, it’s sad…
Delia Yonce: Will you show me your dog?
Jordan Thurlow: Wait, I’ll feed him first.
Delia Yonce: Yes-yes, I heard you promise him this, but please let me look at it!
Jordan Thurlow: If you ask your dad for permission and he doesn’t mind, then I’m in!
Jordan Thurlow: Yes, chum, forgive me for not feeding you for so long.
Delia Yonce: Ajussi Jo, dad allowed me to go into your yard!
Jordan Thurlow: For what?
Delia Yonce: Well how can it be, ajussi Jo, you promised to show me your dog!
Jordan Thurlow: You know, for some reason it seems to me that you, uh…
Delia Yonce: Am I lying? Oh, you’re a cad!
Jordan Thurlow: Wait-wait, I just want to hear it from your dad in person!
Delia Yonce: Huh, are you afraid? You big crybaby!
Galbraith: Forgive me, Jordan Thurlow, but for some reason I was amused by how your relationship with this person developed. First, in your words, you almost died under her gaze, and then unexpectedly, you fought back! As they say, from love to hate!
Jordan Thurlow: No, mister inspector Galbraith, there was no affection that evening, and where would it come from? Then, standing on the outside of the Yonce’s fence, I was scared. I felt like I had been shot with a bullet laced with poison.
Galbraith: You’re a joke though, Jordan! I have never heard such a definition of the arrows of the Cupid from anyone at all!
Jordan Thurlow: Who knows, mister inspector, maybe it will be easier for strangers to notice such changes!
Galbraith: Yes, take it for yourself, what am I, greedy or something?

Chapter II.VI

Whacky Psychic: Take a book!
Whacky Psychic: Take a book, take-a-book, takeabook!..
Jordan Thurlow: What’s the matter?
Whacky Psychic: Let you take a book! I’m has good book!
Jordan Thurlow: What’s the matter, I said?
Whacky Psychic: Take one, just one book!
Jordan Thurlow: Get lost!
Whacky Psychic: Take a book and I’ll go away!
Whacky Psychic: I’m has good book and he have none! I beg him for take a book!
Sportsman: Chill out, gaffer!
Whacky Psychic: I follow him for half an hour already! Let him take a book!
Ivette Yonce: Mister Thurlow, did I disturb you?
Jordan Thurlow: Hello, with whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?
Ivette Yonce: I apologize that we were not able to meet with you yesterday, unlike my husband.
Jordan Thurlow: I’m not sure what you mean, madame?
Ivette Yonce: Sorry, I forgot to name myself. I’m Ivette Yonce, your new neighbour.
Jordan Thurlow: How can I be of service to the wife of the esteemed mister Yonce at such an early hour?
Ivette Yonce: Oh, there’s no need to be so familiar with me, as in anyway we don’t live nearby.
Ivette Yonce: Could you do us a favour, mister Thurlow?
Jordan Thurlow: Uh, what, excuse me?
Ivette Yonce: I would never have asked you about this if my husband had not said “Okay, my joy, I agree” at yesterday’s family council.
Jordan Thurlow: Hmm… And what is your request, missis Yonce?
Ivette Yonce: Ivette, please call me Ivette.
Jordan Thurlow: Why should that be?
Ivette Yonce: You know, first names are much more friendly, and since we are neighbour, then…
Jordan Thurlow: Well, so what do you want, missis Ivette?
Ivette Yonce: Finally.
Ivette Yonce: It’s all because of Delia. Baby tried to persuade us to let her look at your dog, that we, knowing full well what everything could lead to if we refuse, not only allowed her to enter your yard, but also allowed her to visit your home.
Ivette Yonce: Pardon me, what did you say?
Jordan Thurlow: All right, missis Ivette, I said “all right”.
Ivette Yonce: Well, okay, otherwise it feels like you dropped the iron on your leg.
Ivette Yonce: Okay, laughter, of course, is the best medicine, but you still shouldn’t abuse it. Now I’ll boxing my daughter lunch so that if she suddenly gets hungry, she can have a snack at your house, and we’ll come to you soon.
Jordan Thurlow: So… How many minutes should I expect you in? I just, how shall I say this…
Ivette Yonce: We are going to leave the house in half an hour, but if you’re not in the mood to see us today, then…
Jordan Thurlow: No-no, I just wanted to say that I don’t really have any clean clothes, I wouldn’t want to…
Ivette Yonce: Don’t worry about your appearance, mister Thurlow, just behave with dignity, that’s all that’s required of you. Oh yeah, regarding clothes, I was just getting ready to do the laundry after lunch, and since we don’t have a lot of dirty laundry at home, then I can, as a neighbour, do you a favour for a favour – for the fact that you sit with Delia, I will wash your things. This is okay?
Jordan Thurlow: Yes.
Ivette Yonce: Até logo.
Jordan Thurlow: I’m sorry, what did you just say?
Ivette Yonce: See you.

Chapter II.VII

Jordan Thurlow: Greetings. Hi there.
Jordan Thurlow: So, welcome to me. As you can see, my dog is vicious…
Ivette Yonce: I think he’ll get used to it.
Jordan Thurlow: Hey, where are you going?
Ivette Yonce: What are you afraid of, mister Thurlow, he won’t touch her.
Jordan Thurlow: And how do you…
Jordan Thurlow: H-h-how is that possible…
Ivette Yonce: How about you let us in?
Jordan Thurlow: Yes, missis Ivette, right away…
Ivette Yonce: Well, yes, you couldn’t imagine that a mom with kid would come to you. If it is no secret, when was the last time a woman set foot on your doorstep?
Jordan Thurlow: Five years ago, then my mother left this world…
Ivette Yonce: My sincere condolences to you.
Ivette Yonce: Be careful, Delia, don’t get your stockings dirty.
Delia Yonce: Fear not, mommy!
Delia Yonce: You have a very cute doggie, ajussi Jo!
Jordan Thurlow: Well, yes… I understand that I could not resist your charms.
Delia Yonce: Nothing can resist me!
Ivette Yonce: No messing now, dearie!
Delia Yonce: I’m hungry, when are we going to eat?
Ivette Yonce: Where are your dishes, mister Thurlow?
Jordan Thurlow: What exactly should you submit, missis Ivette?
Ivette Yonce: Let me myself.
Jordan Thurlow: What do you want, Delia?
Delia Yonce: Ajussi Jo, do you have anything interesting?
Jordan Thurlow: Toys or something?
Delia Yonce: Books! I’ve already played enough in my eight years.
Jordan Thurlow: Well, books… I have a small library.
Jordan Thurlow: But it’s mostly just scientific gobbledygook…
Delia Yonce: I love science books.
Jordan Thurlow: You talk about encyclopedias, but in my bookshelf I mostly have materials on higher mathematics.
Delia Yonce: Okay, so let’s look at your books?
Jordan Thurlow: Why wouldn’t he?
Jordan Thurlow: If memory serve, there are vinyl records.
Delia Yonce: Huzzah, I found it!
Delia Yonce: I’m so happy now!
Delia Yonce: Ajussi Jo, I can take this for myself, right?
Jordan Thurlow: Of course you can take it. I see you really want this.
Delia Yonce: I just thought what would be best for Jerry.
Jordan Thurlow: Who is Jerry?
Delia Yonce: That’s, uh… That’s boy, with whom I study in the same class.
Delia Yonce: He loves electronic music. I made him a promise that I would give him one of these records for his eighth birthday.
Jordan Thurlow: What date is his birthday, may I ask?
Delia Yonce: And if it’s my secret, then what?
Jordan Thurlow: Then I won’t pester you with questions about your classmates.
Delia Yonce: All right, I’ll tell you what.
Jordan Thurlow: But you would probably be interested in listening to this record yourself, wouldn’t you?
Delia Yonce: What gives you that idea?
Jordan Thurlow: It’s in those eyes of yours, though.

Chapter II.VIII

Ivette Yonce: And on that lovely note, y’all, welcome to the table!
Jordan Thurlow: Thank you, missis Ivette!
Delia Yonce: Thank you, mommy!
Ivette Yonce: Dearie, you can’t eat nothing and indulge in sweets!
Delia Yonce: Mom, come on, I’m just…
Ivette Yonce: Mister Thurlow, will you walk us to the gate? Otherwise…
Delia Yonce: What, that is all?
Ivette Yonce: Delia! Don’t offend the mother!
Ivette Yonce: Oh, finally! Let’s go, mister Thurlow, Delia are already complete.
Jordan Thurlow: Can I carry…
Ivette Yonce: We’ll only get to the wicket, to our house, on our own.
Ivette Yonce: Hi, I’m listening.
Jordan Thurlow: Hello, did I bother you, missis Ivette?
Ivette Yonce: It’s okay, we’re already up. What do you want, mister Thurlow?
Jordan Thurlow: I decided to start baking.
Ivette Yonce: Oh, this is just wonderful! What are you going to cook for us?
Jordan Thurlow: For us?
Ivette Yonce: Well, aren’t you going to give Delia and me a treat?
Jordan Thurlow: No, of course.
Ivette Yonce: That is great. So what will you bake?
Jordan Thurlow: Shortbread. But the thing is…
Ivette Yonce: Wow, we love shortbread!
Jordan Thurlow: Missis Ivette, you didn’t listen to me. I wanted to ask you one thing.
Ivette Yonce: Don’t have a recipe? If you want, I can right now…
Jordan Thurlow: I need a mixer.
Ivette Yonce: Okay, mister Thurlow, I’ll send Delia to you. She was going to go for a walk anyway, so let her help you, give you…
Jordan Thurlow: Thank you, miss Ivette. When should I go outside?
Ivette Yonce: In ten minutes. We’ll wash and get dressed.
Jordan Thurlow: Well, Goodbye.
Ivette Yonce: Até logo!
Jordan Thurlow: Well, apparently they’ve been waiting for you at home…
Delia Yonce: They let me go for a walk, you heard what mom said.
Jordan Thurlow: But my home is not a place for walking.
Delia Yonce: So let’s go outside, ajussi Jo!
Delia Yonce: Gotta go fast!

Chapter II.IX

Galbraith: Sorry again, mister Jordan Thurlow. From now on, I would like you to give only the main points of your story regarding Delia Yonce and her family.
Jordan Thurlow: All right, as you will. To be honest, I’m tired tame the tongue.

Chapter II.X

There are no monologues and/or dialogues in this chapter.

Chapter II.XI

Jordan Thurlow: I hope you don’t mind, if from now on I return to a detailed description of the events that happened to me?
Galbraith: Well, you go right ahead.
Elsebeth Roselieu: You know, Patricia, I have a suspicion that this scoundrel Jordan obviously did something to the pharmaceutist’s daughter.
Patricia: What makes you think that, Elsebeth?
Elsebeth Roselieu: Because I just met Ivette this morning, she was as pale as death!
Patricia: Oh, the poor… They were connected with what?
Elsebeth Roselieu: Well, she said that she asked her daughter to put on new drawers and, while taking her old underwear to wash, she noticed that they were red with blood.
Patricia: What, has the baby started her period? At eight years old?
Elsebeth Roselieu: Ivette couldn’t believe her eyes, and forgetting about the laundry, rushed at the girl with questions. And she told her that yesterday she visited certain ajussi Jo and ajussi Japh.
Patricia: Two murderers… My God… They should sit together!
Elsebeth Roselieu: The pharmaceutist’s wife has the same opinion. I barely persuaded Ivette to go and get checked by a doctor before calling the police.
Patricia: So what’s next?
Elsebeth Roselieu: She went home after that. Maybe she really did that, or maybe she couldn’t stand it and unleashed police bloodhounds on the bastards.
Patricia: Dear God!
Patricia: Ordinary, scabby, pitiful fiend!
Japhet Byrnes: Some fiends eats other fiends! What a great thing to be doing when y’all don’t have a humaneness!
Jordan Thurlow: Anyway, that’s all, mister inspector. You are unlikely to be interested in how I began to do time in these stinking walls?
Galbraith: Well, well…
Galbraith: Wait, Jordan Thurlow, our meeting isn’t over yet.
Jordan Thurlow: What’s the matter, mister inspector?
Galbraith: You told me your half of the story, and I want to tell you mine.
Jordan Thurlow: What, is it really possible that this family, through whose fault I am here rotting alive, still any incidents happening?
Galbraith: You get the point right, Jordan. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Sit down.
Jordan Thurlow: I’m all ears, mister inspector…

Chapter II.XII

Galbraith: What’s wrong, aren’t you feeling very well?
Jordan Thurlow: Delia…
Galbraith: I see that some parts of my story upset you. Sorry for this, but these are facts.
Jordan Thurlow: The truth hurts, I know.
Galbraith: I really don’t like this state of affairs myself, but you can rest assured…
Jordan Thurlow: You will do your best to, so that the child’s soul can be avenged?
Galbraith: I wonder at you…
Jordan Thurlow: I want Delia not to feel abandoned in the next world. Do you understand me, mister inspector?
Galbraith: Take this man back!
C.R.C.I. Guard: I hope mister did not die of boredom, listening to the cruel excuses of this vile p…
Galbraith: Joke me here!
C.R.C.I. Guard: These are what the nerves need to listen…
Yonger Dream Boy: Mother Jo, look at apricots!
Dream Girl: Mother Jo, can we eat them?
Mother Jo: Of course, my children. You can pick these fruits as much as you like.
Mother Jo: But please, be reasonable!
Mother Jo: Are you full, my children?
Older Dream Boy: Mother Jo, maybe a little more?
Mother Jo: We gotta go on the road! We have a very long way!
Jordan Thurlow: Sweetheart…
Dream Delia: I know. I remember.
Dream Delia: Ajussi, there won’t be any trouble. I promise.

Third Act — Qualquer ou Uma Grande Recompensa

Chapter III.I

Galbraith: Does this place serve coffee?
Galbraith: I understand correctly that there is no coffee?
P.I.A. Waiter: No coffee.
Galbraith: Could I see menu please?
Galbraith: Can I have some black tea please?
Boeing Elderling: Hey, don’t you think it looks very nice?
Galbraith: Well, I’m just sitting, flying, not touching anyone.
Boeing Elderling: Fabelhaft!
Boeing Elderling: In what kind of cases are you flying on?
Galbraith: By personal.
Air Hostess: We are always at your service.
Galbraith: Hello! Can you take me to the “Stait of Snow Lake”?
L.H.R. Cabman: Do you mean the hotel on Queensborough Terrace?
Galbraith: Yes.
L.H.R. Cabman: Why did you choose such a lousy hotel?
Galbraith: Lousy? What do you mean?
L.H.R. Cabman: When you booked a hotel, didn’t you look at its rating?
Galbraith: Well… I looked at only the price.
Galbraith: I don’t like tourists, and if this hotel is as bad as you say, it means that I will essentially be alone there.
L.H.R. Cabman: Oh you misanthrope!

Chapter III.II

L.H.R. Cabman: I think I guessed why you chose this hotel.
Galbraith: Well, why?
L.H.R. Cabman: According to the advertising brochures, then in one of his rooms stopped a certain person…
L.H.R. Cabman: I completely agree with you!
Galbraith: Sorry, I’m not sure what you mean…
L.H.R. Cabman: I’m talking about, that this paper shifter doesn’t honour to the hotel to which I am taking you now!
Galbraith: That is not what I said.
L.H.R. Cabman: I would even say that he only disgraces this establishment, exacerbating the already low level of service.
Galbraith: Just keep calm, for God’s sake…
L.H.R. Cabman: Because this is not a writer, this is a businessman! He just hit the mother lode, and he doesn’t care about the level of education of his readership!
Galbraith: As much as possible…
L.H.R. Cabman: On the contrary, he indulges the basest instincts of the most primitive and backward sectors of the population, you will see this for yourself now!
L.H.R. Cabman: Just listen, what did I read on the very first page of his book! “White bitch had taken it in the mouth again”.
Galbraith: Please, don’t use bad language.
L.H.R. Cabman: On the very first page, first! Taking that book in my hands, I was going to get some food for thought, but its pages greeted me with the slang of ill-mannered teenagers!
Galbraith: One might think, that you expected from the mystical horror genre something sublime and refined.
L.H.R. Cabman: Expected? This has got to be usual state of affairs! Do you know the writer Lem?
Galbraith: Lem…
L.H.R. Cabman: I repeat, does the name of Lem mean anything to you?
Galbraith: Well, I read the novel “Motlys” by a writer with a similar surname, certain Steinar Lem.
L.H.R. Cabman: Ninety pounds sterling.
L.H.R. Cabman: That’s it, I brought you to this pigsty!
Galbraith: Do you feel sorry for me?
L.H.R. Cabman: Not really.
L.H.R. Cabman: If you don’t like this hotel, then don’t be angry that I brought you there!
Galbraith: Think nothing of it!
Hotel Receptionist: Good morning, and welcome to our hotel!
Hotel Receptionist: Can I see your documents?
Hotel Receptionist: Well, you’re like the prodigal son!
Galbraith: I’m embarrassed to ask what?
Hotel Receptionist: You changed your place of residence to America, but now you have returned to the bosom of your homeland!
Galbraith: You see, I just couldn’t find a job in Gloucester in my field, so I decided to move abroad.
Hotel Receptionist: Here, take the room key.
Galbraith: How much all this jazz cost?
Hotel Receptionist: We don’t have an elevator, so go upstairs on your own.

Chapter III.III

Schaufensterpuppe: From the height of my life experience, I see how far you are from the true state of affairs. If you don’t mind, I’ll share with you some of my thoughts regarding your challenge.
Schaufensterpuppe: The case you are currently investigating has an unusual purview. The question it poses goes far beyond methodological and legal problems. I believe that the issues involved in this case are in an area that the police most often do not think about.
Schaufensterpuppe: It’s about faith, but not the Lord God, as you might think, and a delinquent.
Schaufensterpuppe: Doctor Baselard committed a crime, I admit that this is an irrefutable fact. But has the thought ever occurred to you, that he did his deed for your own sake? Just like a whale cannot live in the ocean without plankters, so a policeman cannot exist in a society without a perpetrator.
Schaufensterpuppe: There must exist in the world constabulary and coffins, before whom they are obliged to perform their service. In the crime of doctor Baselard lies your serenity, and in his person – salvation.
Schaufensterpuppe: And that’s why you’ll never catch him. After all, with his capture, your own existence will come to its logical end. And there is no mistake in my words – the whole thing about the young lady who died after doctor Baselard’s surgery, is not so much an event of the present as a harbinger of the future. More precisely, it’s the omen.

Chapter III.IV

Galbraith: That’s it, kid, your car is broken, now you’ll have to beg your dad to buy you a new toy.
Osteria Director: Who is that has come upon us?
Osteria Director: Somebody turn on the lights! I do not see who is that has come!
Galbraith: Are you enjoying watching me?
Galbraith: Whoa-whoa, take it easy.
Osteria Director: Hey, have you gone nuts?
Galbraith: Why are you shouting at visitors like crazy?
Osteria Director: I can do that, I’m the director of this establishment!
Osteria Director: Enough of that, stop! I certainly don’t need for you to waste us all!
Galbraith: Well, you’re right.
Osteria Flunkey: What’ll it be, sir?
Pauper: Gimme proceeds!
Beggar-maid: You will receive a reward for alms!
Osteria Cashier: You’re so brave. Come on, get it!
Beggar-maid: We’re having socks!
Osteria Cashier: No doubt, but what of that?
Pauper: She wants sell sox to you!
Osteria Cashier: Okay, I’m on it. Show me the goods.
Beggar-maid: And you gimme leg, your leg!
Osteria Cashier: Wait, what’s this for?
Pauper: She needs to understand what size you are!
Osteria Flunkey: Here’s your second order.
Galbraith: What did you bring me?
Osteria Flunkey: Your order, what else?
Galbraith: I ordered the fettuccine with chicken and tomato. And what did you give me?
Osteria Flunkey: Please enter the venue!
Galbraith: I don’t care…
Osteria Flunkey: The owner’s son is now cooking in the kitchen, a wonderful boy, he is studying at culinary college.
Galbraith: …who makes my food there…
Osteria Flunkey: And so I ask you to be merciful to the boy, because this is his first day at work!
Galbraith: I paid you for this about fifty pounds sterling! And I want to get what I ordered, not some sludge by relative of the owner of your establishment!
Osteria Flunkey: You that, did not like?
Galbraith: YES!
Osteria Flunkey: Wait, I get it know!

Chapter III.V

Tibor: The only thing I can suggest to you is to change the room.
Galbraith: Is it really that hard for you to ask me to change my mattress?
Tibor: I’m sorry, but I’m not much help.
Galbraith: What about bed linen? My sheet is burned by a cigarette.
Tibor: As compensation, I can ask that fresh fruit slices be delivered to your room.
Galbraith: All right, I accept that.
Tibor: At the expense of the establishment, of course.
Galbraith: What a service…
Galbraith: Oh yes, parsimony doesn’t serve.
Galbraith: Magistratus oportet servire populo.
Galbraith: Witless mystical nonsense.
Galbraith: A law enforcement officer shouldn’t believe in miracles.
Galbraith: Murder out of jealousy.
Galbraith: I wonder how he checked it.
Galbraith: Wait, who is miss Faye?
Galbraith: What could it be, great reading.
Galbraith: Very strong word.

Chapter III.VI

Galbraith: I have had enough!
Schaeymoure: Good evening, mister inspector. I’m glad you finally came.
Schaeymoure: You are not a movie, Galbraith.
Galbraith: I find myself begging your pardon.
Schaeymoure: Please, be seated. I needed to speak with you.
Galbraith: Well, you know, I’m not going to sit…
Schaeymoure: You are nervous and that’s your business. But keep in mind that in this case you will have to stand for a long time.
Galbraith: I’m not some soft-handed for whom standing for a couple of hours is already a burden.
Schaeymoure: I have to say, I like your way of expressing your opinion, but I didn’t come to you to admire your confusion.
Schaeymoure: The essential point is, I want to give you a message…
Schaeymoure: So, Galbraith, I understand your attitude towards her, so I will not ask you why you decided not to tell me about your schedules.
Schaeymoure: That is why, I didn’t ask you to share your suspicions with me.
Galbraith: In relation to whom?
Schaeymoure: Doctor Baselard, who else would it be?
Galbraith: Why did you decide that I suspect him?
Schaeymoure: Because I, as a man who was closely acquainted with him, was well aware of the fact that his person could not but arouse suspicion, especially in a subject with such a turn of mind as yours.
Schaeymoure: Are you all right?
Galbraith: Forgive me.
Schaeymoure: I understand that this surprises you. Isso Que é Vida.
Galbraith: Surprises? Is that what you call it? Do you really think that I can put up with the fact that this damnable doctor not only does he not displease you, but it turns out that he is also your friend?!
Schaeymoure: You look amazing in anger.
Schaeymoure: You are motivated by fury and I understand this – the person of that subject can evoke only two reactions – either admiration for his intellect, or sharp hatred of his nature.
Galbraith: I don’t understand you.
Schaeymoure: Doctor Baselard is very complicated man.
Schaeymoure: I understand that you now think that I am whitewashing him, but I really didn’t mean it that way.
Galbraith: Maybe you think that I suspect you yourself?
Schaeymoure: Por que não? In the situation in which you find yourself, there is nothing left to do but suspect each and every one.
Schaeymoure: I will allow myself express aloud what I think might have occurred to you.
Galbraith: So what will you say?
Schaeymoure: The fact that in your head no-no, but thoughts flashed about the fact that wrongdoer Jordan Thurlow and his victim Delia Yonce are of the same blood.
Galbraith: How…
Schaeymoure: How should I know? The fact of the matter, out of nowhere. I said it at random.
Schaeymoure: Not to mention… I don’t think you’ll be interested in knowing this…
Schaeymoure: These are affairs of bygone days, but still I think that Baselard took Duncan’s life out of mercy.
Galbraith: Are you talking about brain surgery?
Schaeymoure: Right. It just seems to me that Baselard decided to meet the poor guy halfway. The woodcutter’s death was not an accident – the doctor knew from the very beginning that brain surgery would end in death, and realizing that Duncan still could no longer live normally in condition like that…
Galbraith: Are you saying that doctor Baselard killed Duncan with his tacit consent?
Schaeymoure: You can interpret my words as you please.
Schaeymoure: I can tell you one thing for sure, doctor Baselard is not the bloodthirsty killer you think he is.
Galbraith: Hmm…
Schaeymoure: Have a good night.
Galbraith: Well, soon they will surround me again…

Chapter III.VII

Hotel Parlourmaid: I’m sorry, mister Galbraith, but mister Tibor won’t be able to come today.
Galbraith: Why?
Hotel Parlourmaid: He was taken to the hospital last night.
Galbraith: Are you will continue to say with one word at a time?
Hotel Parlourmaid: Mister Tibor was diagnosed with cancer symptoms… I do not want to elaborate on this.
Galbraith: Okay, let’s not talk about it.
Galbraith: Could you bring some cotton wool to my room?
Hotel Parlourmaid: Sorry, please speak clearly.
Galbraith: I called a man here to bring me cotton wool. I cut myself.
Hotel Parlourmaid: Cut yourself further!
Galbraith: Excuse me, do you mind?
Hotel Parlourmaid: This is not a pharmacy to be dragged all sorts of medicinal muck for you!
Galbraith: Wait, where are you going?
Hotel Parlourmaid: Do not address me for such things!
Hotel Parlourmaid: Mister Galbraith, you’ve got a visitor.
Galbraith: Who, excuse me?
Hotel Parlourmaid: Not a young men.
Galbraith: He can wait.
Hotel Parlourmaid: He said he was on important business!
Galbraith: Well, let him come in.
Specialist: Good afternoon!
Galbraith: So I understand that you are a doctor?
Specialist: No, you made a mistake. I work in the field which holds the key to the future.
Galbraith: And which one exactly?
Specialist: Computer technologies.
Galbraith: Well, if you work in the field of the future, then I’m certainly very happy…
Specialist: Well, how could it be otherwise!
Galbraith: Wait, I didn’t finish. I wanted to ask how you found out about me.
Specialist: I’m a specialist from the “Makoto Computerization Institute” and we are looking for volunteers…
Galbraith: What other volunteers? Did I write somewhere that I want…
Specialist: Now it’s your turn to listen to me!
Galbraith: Okay, I get the message.
Specialist: We need volunteers so that from the point of view of a common person we can evaluate the computer’s dreams.
Galbraith: The computer’s dreams?
Specialist: It’s a long story, you better come to us right away, and we’ll all…
Specialist: See you!
Galbraith: Don’t be in such a hurry, need to calm down…

Chapter III.VIII

Galbraith: Take me to a restaurant you would recommend.
H. Berneasy: I have “Clair’n’Tone” in mind.
Galbraith: What’s that?
H. Berneasy: Vanitas-restaurant.
H. Berneasy: Get out.
Galbraith: What, are we there yet?
H. Berneasy: I reiterate, get out.
Galbraith: All right, as you please.
H. Berneasy: I’ll refuel and come back for you.
H. Berneasy: Get in, we’re moving on.
Galbraith: My goodness, it is…
H. Berneasy: Did you hit a little?
Galbraith: Never mind.
Galbraith: Staging.
H. Berneasy: So, we’re already here.
H. Berneasy: Wait a minute.
Galbraith: Why did you give this to me?
H. Berneasy: I just want to tell you that if you have any questions, just call this number.
Galbraith: That’s ridiculous.

Chapter III.IX

Galbraith: Oh girl, why are you leading me into your obscurity?
Galbraith: I don’t argue, it’s beautiful, but somehow it’s not the season.
“Clair’n’Tone” Nippy: Welcome, what’s your pleasure?
Galbraith: Could I see the menu?
Galbraith: What does it mean?
“Clair’n’Tone” Nippy: It’s cognac with caramel syrup.
Galbraith: Huh…
“Clair’n’Tone” Nippy: This is a very light drink, because the syrup softens the strength of the alcohol.
Galbraith: So what, visitors order this slipslop there?
“Clair’n’Tone” Nippy: A highly tasty cocktail. Try it yourself.
Galbraith: Okay, I’ll take your word for it.
Galbraith: What is this?
“Clair’n’Tone” Nippy: This is the dish.
Galbraith: It was fairly obvious, but what it represents?
“Clair’n’Tone” Nippy: The recipe of “Jantar” is the trade secret.
Galbraith: Well, I order everything that’s on this menu.
“Clair’n’Tone” Nippy: Here’s your order.
Galbraith: Thank you.
“Clair’n’Tone” Nippy: Well, how did you like it?
Galbraith: Keep your money, and goodbye.
Galbraith: So, Berneasy, I’ll have to resort to your services.
Nelissen: Hello, I am listening to you.

Chapter III.X

Galbraith: Nelissen, buddy, is that you?
Nelissen: Galbraith? At long last it’s you! I was beginning to worry. where’ve you been?
Galbraith: In London as you know…
Nelissen: What’s wrong, cat got your tongue?
Galbraith: Give me the explanation, how is it that I called a London taxi driver but got on a Portland police department?
Nelissen: Speak softly, somebody might hear us.
Galbraith: I’m fine not caring about…
Nelissen: Do not contest me, the information I will give you is not for prying eyes.
Galbraith: All right. What do you want me to say?
Nelissen: Couple of news.
Galbraith: Well, according to tradition, firstly…
Nelissen: If you find something good in any of this news, then I can congratulate you on being such a katagelastic!
Galbraith: What?
Nelissen: It doesn’t matter. May I begin then?
Galbraith: Okay, let’s go.
Nelissen: Good, then listen to me. Do you remember Jordan Thurlow?
Galbraith: How can I not remember, I personally interrogated him.
Nelissen: Of course, all know this already, as well as the fact that after the audience with him you were not at all interested in his fate.
Galbraith: Oh…
Nelissen: Basically, the day after you said goodbye to him, a prison guard entered Jordan’s prison cell and found him lying prone on the floor.
Galbraith: He was dead?
Nelissen: Yes.
Galbraith: I wonder why he’s so fast kicked the bucket.
Nelissen: A forensic examination determined that Jordan’s death was due to oxygen deprivation of the brain.
Galbraith: Hmm…
Nelissen: Lesley Watmough, the pathologist who performed the autopsy on the prisoner’s body discovered something interesting.
Galbraith: And what?
Nelissen: He discovered a malignant tumour in Jordan’s larynx. Laryngeal cancer in a few words.
Nelissen: In general, Lesley said that this is a rather rare case, because usually people get this disease by the age of fifty, and Jordan, as you remember…
Galbraith: I’m aware of that. That’s all?
Nelissen: That’s it with Jordan, now about Delia.
Galbraith: What, her too…
Nelissen: No, who would have thought of digging her out of the grave?
Galbraith: All right, knock it off.
Nelissen: Okay. It’s like this, as you were preparing to board the plane, we continued our investigation…
Galbraith: No, really? I thought all had shelved on this case…
Nelissen: Do not interrupt. We discovered that after the hysterectomy surgeons extracted something from her womb…
Galbraith: So what did they extract?
Nelissen: Caetlynn Armour called this thing as Fetus papyraceous, according to her, this is when a female twin carries a second embryo inside.
Galbraith: Stupid and unscientific bullshit.
Nelissen: Well, what do you want from this modern medicine…
Galbraith: All right, they found it, so what’s next?
Nelissen: In short, they donated it to the Oregon College of Oriental Medicine.
Galbraith: Wait, what’s this for?
Nelissen: As a medical exhibit, what did you think?
Galbraith: Nothing of the kind…
Nelissen: There, of course, this thing was immediately placed in a glass vessel with formaldehyde. And when I learned about this, I did not restrain myself and immediately went to this college.
Galbraith: What did you see?
Nelissen: Well… A lots of students crowded around the vessel – do not feed bread, just let them peek at new wonderment.
Galbraith: Quite curious.
Nelissen: They stood around and discussed it. One guy noticed that this thing looked a lot like the larva of Rosalia longicorn, and someone fainted…
Galbraith: Who exactly?
Nelissen: Two young gals. Apparently they were afraid that when they got pregnant, something like this would grow inside them.
Galbraith: God’s got a sick sense of humour.
Nelissen: I didn’t understand, what are you trying to say?
Galbraith: Forget it, I was just thinking out loud.
Nelissen: You know, I think Caetlynn Armor named this thing Fetus papyraceous on the spur of the moment because it didn’t look like an embryo.
Galbraith: So what could it look like?
Nelissen: Let’s imagine a Sea urchin.
Galbraith: Shell?
Nelissen: No, alive.
Galbraith: Well, I did.
Nelissen: So, this ersatz Sea urchin swam there in formaldehyde and I, looking at this, thought that it was…
Galbraith: Parasite?
Nelissen: Worse, the parasite is still a separate organism, harmful, but if desired, it can be removed without loss to the host, but here…
Galbraith: Don’t stir things up, please.
Nelissen: Imagine, my friend, that when you were conceived, a second brain formed in your lungs.
Galbraith: What nonsense?
Nelissen: Listen to this. It would be a completely useless appendage that would absorb the excess energy of your body, but it would not do anything useful.
Galbraith: I have no idea but that was really interestingly.
Nelissen: …but since you have this from birth, you think that this is the normal.
Nelissen: And therefore trying to remove this organ can lead to serious complications because your body…
Galbraith: Are you saying that the chances of Delia surviving were zero?
Nelissen: With this thing inside, I don’t know, but it is a fact that removing of it led to death.
Galbraith: Poor girl…
Nelissen: But I can say one thing for sure, even if she wanted to, a girl as an adult could not conceive and bear a child.
Galbraith: Hmm…
Nelissen: Do you think that if you have some kind of thing grown into your womb, then there will be a place for the baby there too?
Galbraith: I wouldn’t think such a thing.
Nelissen: Okay, let’s end the conversation. I am afraid that the call may be intercepted by inquisitive gentlemen from The Metropolitan Police Service.
Galbraith: Queensborough Terrace, hotel “Stait of Snow Lake”.
Time Cabman: Listen, good sir, you’ll probably have to look for another hotel!
Galbraith: What are you speaking about?
Time Cabman: It’s best you take a look for yourself!
Galbraith: Stop the car!
Time Cabman: What’s the use, good sir, your things are probably already burned.
Time Cabman: I’ll wait for you here, otherwise you never know, you’ll need to go to the airport or depot…
Galbraith: Please forgive me…
Galbraith: Where’s the fire team?
Canadian Camper: They is right there!
Galbraith: You don’t know when the fire started?
Canadian Camper: I’d like to know more about this!
Canadian Camper: Alas, what a shame. I paid about four thousand five hundred bucks for half a month, “All inclusive”…
Galbraith: Wait a minute, you are an American?
Canadian Camper: I’m from Toronto. I came here to spend my vacation, only two days left before returning to Canada.
Galbraith: Thanks for the reply. That is, you don’t know how many people are trapped there?
Canadian Camper: I don’t care about them, I just went out for a walk before dinner, came back, and then this!
Canadian Camper: Now, because of these dullards, I will have to contact the embassy to have my burned documents restored…
Postmaster: Mister Galbraith?
Galbraith: Sorry, you talking to me now?
Postmaster: I was ordered to deliver the envelope to mister Galbraith, who was staying at the “State of Snow Lake” hotel.
Galbraith: But how did you recognize me?
Postmaster: Recognize? I just asked.
Galbraith: Well, give me the parcel then.
Postmaster: Before that you must write a receipt for delivery.
Galbraith: Okay, If you must, just give me a minute.
Galbraith: Here you go.

Chapter III.XI

Time Cabman: Hey, good sir!
Galbraith: What’s the matter?
Time Cabman: Mister foreigner wants to go to the airport or depot now?
Galbraith: Huh, where is this coming from?
Time Cabman: What else can you do if your hotel burns down? Unless you go to another…
Galbraith: Wait, let me to get my thoughts together.
Time Cabman: Well, good sir, think faster, otherwise I’ll leave and you’ll have to get where you need to go yourself.
Galbraith: You don’t know where “Makoto Computerization Institute” is located?
Time Cabman: Good sir apparently means “Mon-Tec”?
Galbraith: What kind of place it is?
Time Cabman: There was such an electrical engineering plant, then its owner changed and it was converted into a research institute of electronic technologies.
Galbraith: Well, I think I should go there.
Time Cabman: I didn’t even know it was renamed. I believed that they left a trademark familiar to people.
Galbraith: Huh, why don’t you introduce yourself then?
Galbraith: Why should I know about some love story between three schoolchildren?
Galbraith: Well done, what can I say…
Galbraith: Now this is rudeness!
Galbraith: What, first you insulted and then flattered?
Galbraith: Interesting association.
Galbraith: Of course, people never change.
Galbraith: Well, four and five. Wonder what that’s about.

Chapter III.XII

О’Girard: Hello! Now you are listening “Dom-I-Double” broadcasting service, announcer О’Girard is with you.
О’Girard: It’s no secret that yesterday, the twenty-sixth of December one thousand nine hundred and ninety-one, Supreme Soviet of the Soviet Union adopted A Declaration on The Demise of Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. Our radio station believes this is A Day of The Great Triumph for all…
Time Cabman: Smile nice, mister Capitalist…
Galbraith: It’s only mid-October now…
Galbraith: This is clearly someone else’s mistake…
Galbraith: Sorry, can you tell me what date it is today?
Time Cabman: Ah, good sir, you look so intelligent, but…
Galbraith: What do you mean?
Time Cabman: I’m talking about the fact that it’s not proper for a man like you to drinking into oblivion.
Galbraith: How do you figure that?
Time Cabman: How else did you manage to forget that today is December twenty-seventh?
Galbraith: You have got to be kidding me…
Time Cabman: Nothing of the sort. Check it out for yourself, if you do not believe me!
Galbraith: Listen, these are not…
Time Cabman: Yes, that’s them.
Galbraith: Did they really release a new album this year?
Time Cabman: What the album? Only one track.
Galbraith: Hmm…
Time Cabman: But this is not just a ordinary composition, It’s a song for the new movie by Ernst Wilhelm Wenders!
Galbraith: Okay, I was excited to learn about this.
Galbraith: Delia…
Galbraith: How was it, four and five…
Galbraith: This is quite naturally.
Galbraith: Well…
Galbraith: Okay, this is D-E-L-I-A. Ideal.
Galbraith: It is possible that the essence should be sought not in morphemic, but in arithmetic.
Galbraith: Sorry, do you have a calculator?
Time Cabman: Do you want to calculate how much money will be transferred to you in a month?
Galbraith: Something like that.
Time Cabman: If it’s not a secret, what will you spend it on?
Galbraith: For the holidays, of course.
Time Cabman: Did you ask? Hold it.
Time Cabman: If only you knew how much money I spent on it at one time…
Galbraith: Which operation should I perform first…
Galbraith: What if I added up both of these answers?
Galbraith: Eight… Delia was eight years old when Jo met her…
Galbraith: Take it back.
Time Cabman: What, did you find out how much you will spend on the holidays?
Galbraith: Well, I’m a huge strapped for cash.
Time Cabman: Why so?
Galbraith: I don’t really want to work.
Time Cabman: All right, I get it, you are lost the grip…
Galbraith: I can think of no worse deed than demonization of the child.

Chapter III.XIII

Time Cabman: Good sir, we are already there!
Galbraith: Are we sure we’ve arrived at the right address?
Time Cabman: Do you think I decided to fool you?
Galbraith: I said, take me to the institute!
Time Cabman: And what’s this? A barn?!
Manabu: Welcome.
Manabu: I am grad that you honoured our humbre institute with your visit. Come in, they are waiting for you.
Specialist: Wow, here you are!
Specialist: Hold your horses, the respected, hold your horses.
Galbraith: How can I be useful in this place?
Specialist: I would like to say a few words to you. I was already afraid that you wouldn’t come.
Galbraith: Why?
Specialist: Two months and eight days have passed since I handed you the business card.
Galbraith: Yes, I wasn’t in much of a hurry.
Specialist: Good. Put in on.
Galbraith: What is this for?
Specialist: For hygienic reasons.
Galbraith: Huh, you’re afraid I’ll bring germs into your barn?
Specialist: I understand that you are not very impressed by the facade of our institute, but do not rush to conclusions!
Galbraith: Where exactly is the institute itself?
Specialist: Below.
Manabu: Makoto-san berieves that the croser a person is to the core of the Earth, the more his mind is open to universar wisdom.
Galbraith: What nonsense did he say?
Specialist: Forgive generously young mister Manabu for idolizing his teacher too much.
Galbraith: I don’t care about the relationship between a student and his teacher. Explain in a few words what is happening here?
Specialist: In the heat of his feelings, Manabu lost sight of the fact that Montesi decided to hide his developments from prying eyes.
Galbraith: Montesi? Makoto? Who are all these people?
Specialist: While we are on our way down, you and I will have enough time to bring you up to date.
Specialist: No-no-no, follow us!
Galbraith: Why don’t we just take the elevator?
Specialist: The fact is that the institute is located at such a great depth, that during an elevator ride your brain runs the risk of not being able to cope with the rapid change in pressure.
Galbraith: So what?
Specialist: And in this case, you, my respected and impatient friend, will just lose consciousness right in the cabin.
Galbraith: Are you threatening me?
Manabu: Threat is the weapon of cowards. Makoto-san arways said that a person is obriged…
Galbraith: I have no obligations to you two.
Specialist: Well, let’s go?
Galbraith: Hey, wait a second.
Galbraith: Make me a promise that at the end of this excursion I will return back safe and sound, okay?
Specialist: Don’t worry, you are our guest, and therefore we have no right to wish you harm in any case.
Specialist: Please don’t stomp!
Galbraith: Amusing dress code you have here.
Specialist: Are you talking about slippers? We would have given them to you too, but we thought you would start complaining.
Galbraith: But why flip-flops?
Specialist: The legs breathe, also the stomping does not interfere with the conversation.
Galbraith: And what do you want to tell me, mister…
Specialist: Just call me the specialist.
Galbraith: What kind of conspiracy is this?
Specialist: Our scientific people have no names.
Manabu: Onry when an individuar manages to achieve success does he have every right to carr himserf.
Galbraith: Hmm… Wait, what about Manabu?
Specialist: Mister Manabu has the reputation of being his teacher’s first assistant. He is worthy to be addressed by name.
Galbraith: Does that mean you are not worthy?
Specialist: I’m just a executant that no one will ever mention. Like a musician in an orchestra, listeners first talk about the composer, then about the conductor, and no one cares about who produces the sounds of music themselves.

Chapter III.XIV

Galbraith: How long do we have to go?
Specialist: It’s better not to ask this question.
Galbraith: Would you mind telling me then who this Montesi you mentioned is?
Specialist: Pourquoi pas? This is exactly what we have prepared for beginners.
Galbraith: Curious. And how many people have you directed to the right path?
Manabu: So far, not a singre one, you are the first to receive such an honour.
Specialist: Montesi was an engineer-constructor who, from his school days, cherished the idea of creating an eternal supercomputer.
Galbraith: What-what?
Specialist: Eternal in that sense that the integrated circuits that form the basis of the machine do not wear out over time.
Manabu: Of course, subject to operating conditions.
Specialist: Mister Manabu is right, a supercomputer will not last a day if left in the rain, but who would come up with the idea of such an act of vandalism?
Galbraith: Well, yes…
Specialist: All in all, Montesi, as a student, moved from his native Chile to England, and in its capital he quickly found people interested in this.
Galbraith: Do you want to say that in London there were some naive technology manufacturers who took the word of some South American student and fulfilled his whims?
Specialist: It is incredible but it is a fact.
Galbraith: Why, pray tell, did this Montesi need to dig this shaft?
Specialist: Cold War. He did not want the intelligence services to interfere with his work.
Specialist: Adrian Montesi with his charges in a couple of years created a prototype of a supercomputer. The development was carried out directly underground – workshops were erected there that assembled microcircuits, memory units and other components.
Galbraith: It sounds like a fragment from some fantastic story.
Manabu: The fierd of science in which we work wirr arways seem rike science fiction to the common man.
Specialist: Therefore, I will try not to use terms that will not be clear to you in any case.
Galbraith: Thanks for your kind words.
Specialist: The very first program that was recorded in the computer’s memory it was extremely primitive, there was no question of it simulating our world.
Galbraith: And now what, is he already simulating?
Specialist: Don’t go getting too far ahead!
Specialist: Adrian Montesi eventually achieved his goal, and the computer could function forever and without stopping.
Galbraith: And then he took his secret to the grave?
Specialist: Don’t blaspheme, Montesi is alive!
Galbraith: Okay, I was joking.
Specialist: The inventor was so excited about his success that at the end of the test run of the computer, he immediately rushed to The Intellectual Property Office of the United Kingdom and registered the trademark “Mon-Tec”, which was short for “Montesi Technologies”.
Galbraith: Somehow this act does not fit with the way he previously hid his developments from the intelligence services.
Manabu: Eidorian Monteshi was a very passionate gaijin. No one courd understand what was going on in his head.
Galbraith: Why do you both talk about him in the past tense?
Specialist: You should know it when Montesi registered the trademark, he spoke at an international congress. The only one who was interested in the Chilean’s invention was professor Makoto Shugarami.
Manabu: Makoto-san buirt a theory that computer programming is something rike human training, when the resurt shourd not be an automatic machine that executes the program embedded in it, but an artificiar interrigence that courd think and think on its own, without operator intervention.
Galbraith: Well, is a strong word.
Manabu: Aras, in his homerand Makoto-san had a bad reputation, scientists despised him and carred his thoughts as empty chatter.
Galbraith: Huh, a typical story about an unrecognized genius.
Manabu: And therefore, when the professor rearned about the creation of Eidorian Monteshi, he fert that with this gaijin he wourd be abre to rearize his dream of creating an artificiar worrd.
Specialist: Makoto showed Montesi a prototype of his program, which, based on the information entered into it, produced quite meaningful sentences in response.
Manabu: It’s rike when a baby repeats an adurt’s actions.
Galbraith: Do you want to say that some unknown Japanese professor developed the von Neumann model and achieved success in it?
Specialist: Unknown is a relative concept. Do you know who Thomas Kite Sharpless is?
Galbraith: How should I know?
Specialist: If you were interested in computers, you would know that this is the chief programmer of Electronic Numerical Integrator and Computer.
Galbraith: All right, you’ve got it.
Specialist: Makoto’s program delighted Montesi so much, that he, without thinking twice, appointed a Japanese professor to the post of major programmer of his supercomputer.
Manabu: Makoto-san took with him a staff of his emproyees, among whom was your humbre servant Manabu.
Specialist: Within two months a team of Japanese programmers worked hard and eventually demonstrated their work to Montesi.
Manabu: Eidorian Monteshi was so amazed by my teacher’s unprecedented resurts that he bowed to his genius and handed over the entire project to him.
Galbraith: But where did he go?
Specialist: Montesi left the “Mon-Tec”. But before leaving, he asked the professor for a favor.
Galbraith: What was it?
Specialist: He had two requests, so that they completely forget about it and at the same time change the brand.
Galbraith: And what were the successes?
Specialist: “Mon-Tec” has been re-registered under the new name, “Makoto Computerization Institute”.
Manabu: But no one courd forget about Eidorian Monteshi himserf.
Galbraith: Did he really leave of his own free will?
Manabu: Makoto-san personarry begged Eidorian Monteshi-kun not to abandon his brainchird, but the gaijin was adamant.
Galbraith: Okay, so what happened next?
Specialist: When the staff of the institute was headed by Makoto Shugarami, all participants began working on the creation of “Makoto’s Chest”, that’s what the professor himself called his creation.
Galbraith: And what did the programmers put in this chest?
Specialist: All kinds of information began to be entered into the supercomputer memory blocks, starting from sciences such as algebra or philosophy and ending with such small things as prices for tickets to Africa or a top list of the best perfumes for young girls.
Galbraith: I’ve never heard so much codswallop. Why fill a supercomputer with all sorts of nonsense?
Manabu: Makoto-san wanted for a computer to have so much information about our worrd, to buird a his virtuar copy based on it.
Kenbutsunin: Manabu-kun no tonari ni tatte iru kono baka wa daredesu ka?
Namakemono: Kore ga watashitachi no gesutoda to omoimasu.
Galbraith: Excuse me, what did these gentlemen say?
Manabu: These two said that they are very preased to wercome a distinguished guest to our institute!
Galbraith: By the way, do they live here or…
Specialist: Only working.
Galbraith: And how do they get here?
Specialist: By taxi…
Galbraith: I mean how they go underground.
Specialist: By the elevator, of course.
Galbraith: What, these Japanese don’t lose consciousness while they’re coming down here?
Manabu: Physicar training.
Galbraith: Maybe it’s just a matter of habit?
Specialist: And that too.

Chapter III.XV

Ichinose Okamura: Hello.
Shinoda Okamura: Greetings.
Specialist: These are our new employees.
Galbraith: I hope their names will not be a secret to me?
Specialist: Of course not. Get acquainted with Okamura brothers, Shinoda and Ichinose.
Ichinose Okamura: I’m glad that there was finally a volunteer willing to test our supercomputer.
Shinoda Okamura: I hope the guest will appreciate the fruits of our labours.
Galbraith: What do you call this project among yourselves?
Shinoda Okamura: We call it D.O.O.R.
Galbraith: Can you tell me how this is deciphered?
Shinoda Okamura: D.O.O.R. is Digital Oriented Objective Replica.
Ichinose Okamura: Don’t listen to him, he is too pedantic and does not see the hidden meaning in the name of our project!
Galbraith: And what meaning do you see in this thunderous word?
Ichinose Okamura: D.O.O.R. is The Door to The Future!
Specialist: Now excuse me, I have to go, things to do.
Galbraith: Sorry, but what should I do now? Where is your supercomputer, or whatever it’s called, D.O.O.R.?
Shinoda Okamura: We will now take you where you need to go.
Ichinose Okamura: If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to contact us.
Galbraith: In this case, before you take me to the machine, could you arrange an audience for me with professor Makoto Shugarami?
Shinoda Okamura: Makoto-san left for Tokyo.
Galbraith: On affairs?
Ichinose Okamura: The professor decided to pay tribute to his favourite writer.
Galbraith: In what sense?
Ichinose Okamura: Makoto-san honoured with his visit winter residence of…
Galbraith: Okay, that’s his business.
Galbraith: Do you happen to know doctor Baselard?
Shinoda Okamura & Ichinose Okamura: No, this is the first time we’ve heard this name. And who is it?
Galbraith: Well, he’s short, bald, gray-haired and wears glasses.
Ichinose Okamura: Come with us, respected guest.
Shinoda Okamura: Move away, ototo.
Shinoda Okamura: Then it’s up to you.
Galbraith: Are you talking to me?
Shinoda Okamura: Of course.
Shinoda Okamura: Behave yourself, baka!
M.C.I. Announcer: Now, listen up, guest.
M.C.I. Announcer: Go ahead, guest, and do what I tell you.
M.C.I. Announcer: So, you see The Spectator’s Seat.
M.C.I. Announcer: Get into it and press the red button, which is on your left.
Galbraith: Hey, what is your name…
M.C.I. Announcer: What?
Galbraith: Why is this chair?
M.C.I. Announcer: In order to connect to the thoughts of D.O.O.R.
Galbraith: I don’t understand where the logic is here.
M.C.I. Announcer: You sit in The Spectator’s Seat and at the press of a button a special adapter will be connected to your head, allowing you to read the dreams of a supercomputer.
Galbraith: Why is everything so difficult?
M.C.I. Announcer: Nothing complicated, you just sit down and connect.
Galbraith: Is it really true that you didn’t find a single person in your entire institute who could simply mount a screen?
M.C.I. Announcer: D.O.O.R. provides information in the form of a sequence of pulses. We are actively working to ensure that a supercomputer can convert it into a continuous stream of video signal, but at this stage all tasks associated with visualization are performed by the brain of the “spectator”. Much like with a book – it’s just a set of letters, but in your head they are transformed into vivid images.
M.C.I. Announcer: Sit in the seat.
M.C.I. Announcer: Now push the button.
Galbraith: No, wait!
M.C.I. Announcer: What questions?
Galbraith: Would you describe in general terms what I will see in these “dreams”?
M.C.I. Announcer: Okay, professor Makoto Shugarami did not intend to create a specific personality of the machine mind, he simply downloaded information into it. However, when we did the “first reading”, we noticed that the supercomputer in its thoughts considers itself a young American mafioso who lives in a European town.
Galbraith: And what is the name of this “E-Mafia” of yours?
M.C.I. Announcer: Edwin Deforest.
Galbraith: All right, gentlemen, I’m ready.

Chapter III.XVI

M.C.I. Announcer: Relax, guest, and close your eyes.
M.C.I. Announcer: Stop thinking.
M.C.I. Announcer: This is necessary for so that the flow of your thoughts does not interrupt the flow of information of electronic consciousness, because otherwise you risk not seeing anything. And yes, close your eyes, I asked you.
Shinoda Okamura: Tired?
Galbraith: I’m fine, thanks for taking care of me.
Shinoda Okamura: Can we go through?
Specialist: Yes, yes, of course.
Galbraith: Well, gentlemen, It was great, I’ll tell you!
Shinoda Okamura: How would you describe what you saw?
Galbraith: It can be compared to an action-packed movie.
Specialist: That is an interesting point!
Galbraith: What?
Specialist: If Adrian Montesi had not dropped out of the institute, he would not have failed to take advantage of your idea.
Galbraith: Why do you think so?
Specialist: So that you know, Montesi dreamed of directing movie pictures as a child, but his parents wanted to raise an engineer, so he reluctantly had to go against his desires.
Galbraith: Curious.
Specialist: I believe that Montesi still has the thought in his head that he should not have obeyed the will of his parents.
Galbraith: Hmm…
Specialist: Because this explains why he so easily transferred his project into the hands of the Japanese professor.
Galbraith: So, you think what this supercomputer of yours be used to create movies?
Specialist: Pourquoi pas? It would be nice if we taught D.O.O.R. display his dreams on celluloid tape in the form of a series of images, then we will give this material to some film studio, which will record the voice acting and edit the film!
Specialist: I am sure that the film, shot by a supercomputer, will break records at many international film festivals.
Shinoda Okamura: And when critics appreciate the film, it is possible that it will even be shown on cable television.
Galbraith: Gentlemen, do you honestly believe this?
Specialist: No, we’re just joking.
Specialist: Now you can go home.
Galbraith: Well, finally. I’ve already decided that I’m going to hang around here until the end of my days.
Galbraith: What, now you’ll let me go up like normal?
Specialist: Now there is no need to go up the spiral staircase.
Shinoda Okamura: We called a taxi for you.
Ichinose Okamura: When you reach the surface of the earth, you will have to wait a little for the car because the institute is far from the city.
Galbraith: Well, thank you… Friends!
Specialist: Yes, by the way, indoors, we hung the fur coat on a hanger in advance.
Galbraith: What are you talking about?
Specialist: It’s winter outside, and you’re dressed lightly.
Galbraith: Okay.
Galbraith: Lonely presence, damaged the work, You can’t, uh… Everything the God…