Thanks
to my parents and sister for everything

…

“When you have eliminated the impossible,
whatever remains,
however improbable,
must be the truth.”
- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Situation 1. Flights in dreams and in reality

Charlie was drinking coffee at a table in a small town cafe.
As it usually happens, without wanting to, he found himself an unwitting listener to a loud conversation between two girlfriends at the next table. They were talking about the success of one of the girls in the field of lucid dreaming.
Charlie knew that lucid dreaming is a state when a person realizes that sleeps during sleep. In this state, it is possible to completely control your actions, as if you were awake, and, most interestingly, also change the surrounding world at will, ignoring physical laws - for example, fly like a bird or a superhero.
But how can you understand - are you in a dream or in reality? The most effective way is to use the so-called "artifacts" - someone, for example, uses a top, and someone uses objects of the environment: tries to turn on the light, looks at the clock or reads the text in a book. If a person is sleeping, the top will spin endlessly and not fall, the light will not turn on, regardless of the switch position, and the time on the clock or the text in the book will look like a meaningless set of letters and numbers.
‘It's really cool that I live on the top floor,’ one of the girlfriends continued to tell the other with enthusiasm. ‘Can you imagine, just a few months of trying, and I can already fly all over the city! Incredible sensations!’
‘At least your home library came in handy somewhere,’ the friend giggled.
The girl goes to bed. In her dream - in her head - she wakes up, tries to turn on the light in the bedroom - it doesn't turn on, looks at the wall clock - doesn't see the time, on the way to the window in the room she takes a random book from the closet - doesn't understand the text inside. Three tests are passed - and she sets off on a safe flight around the city until she wakes up in the morning.
Charlie repeated this entire algorithm inside himself all the way to the narrator's house, trying to keep a significant distance and not arouse suspicion. So he walked her without her knowledge right to the entrance of the house where she lived.
To the delight of all exhibitionists, lovers of spying on someone else's personal life and Charlie, right opposite the high-rise apartment building where this girl lived, there was a similar palace made of glass and concrete very close. Having dialed a random combination on the intercom buttons and introducing himself as a postman, Charlie calmly got inside and got first to the top floor, and then to the door of the technical exit to the roof. Unfortunately for Charlie, the door was locked, and fortunately for him - there was not the only entrance in the house. In the 4th entrance, access to the roof was open and he unhinderedly took a convenient observation position for the windows of the top floor of the house opposite. A few minutes later and thanks to the excellent zoom on his smartphone, he found the apartment and windows of his future 1st victim.
A few days later, Charlie helped a white van seller, a store selling special equipment and special means for exterminating cockroaches, a pet store, a printing studio, and advertising accounts of the most popular social networks and search engines. On the Internet, he created targeted ads, specifying one specific house as the target audience, and in the entrance hall of the house, where that girl lived, he posted flyers with an announcement about professional help in the fight against insect pests, and when she left the house, Charlie, in the company of 10 large cockroaches in a jar, went up to the top floor, from there - to the roof through another unlocked technical door of the attic, and finally - as close as possible to open window of one of the windows of the desired apartment. He went downstairs with an empty jar - now he had to wait for an incoming call.
The next day, Charlie arrived on call with a request for disinsection and disinfection of the apartment of a hostess he already knew in a house he already knew. The girl left home for the whole day, and in those few hours everything was ready – including high-quality photos of the wall clock and the bookcase with books from the home library. In a month, he promised to return for a control check of the living space – and who would refuse such a service, which is also included in the price of today's work?..
Of course, no one wasted time the whole month: the owner of the apartment continued to practice lucid dreaming, and Charlie made special copies of the girl’s entire small library and the wall clock. First, he bought all the books he could get his hands on, and the most similar clocks, and then he did not even surprise the book printing house and watch workshop with specific orders (prop masters of films and quest rooms sometimes come with much stranger technical tasks): print pages in a binding with a random set of letters and place the numbers on the dial in a chaotic order, removing the hands.
During the second visit, Charlie showed up with two, not one large heavy sports bag: the business is growing, there is more equipment. During the day, he successfully replaced all the books and wall clocks, reporting in the evening that everything was now definitely in order.
Charlie left in his white van and returned on foot closer to nightfall. Kind neighbors let the tired postman into the entrance, and Charlie safely waited out the dead of night on the roof, wearing leather gloves and a medical mask - there was no video surveillance either inside or outside, but in any case, it would not be superfluous to be secretive. Then he went down to the first floor, turned off the electricity in the entire entrance using the switch in the electrical panel and went up to the front door of the girl's apartment.
After waiting a few seconds and hearing nothing but the vacuum silence behind the door, Charlie hit the door several times hard, and a few seconds later, with his heart pounding furiously in his chest, he was already running down to the first floor - trying to step on the steps as softly as possible with his toes, without making a loud stomp. There he turned on the switch, tore down all the remaining ads about the extermination of insects, and went outside. After walking a few hundred meters, he took off his gloves and mask and walked home at a leisurely pace, without turning around.
The next morning, the local media reported an accident: a young woman had decided to commit suicide by falling out of a window of an unremarkable high-rise building in a quiet and peaceful residential area.
Charlie took a pair of scissors and carefully cut out a photo from a printed newspaper about this incident.

Situation 8. Transparent dices

Charlie was drinking coffee at a table in a cafe in the suburbs.
As it usually happens, without wanting to, he found himself an unwitting listener to a loud conversation between two elderly men at the next table. They were talking about the fight against insomnia of one of the old men.
‘So here is my recipe, my friend: of course, a sleeping pill, an eye mask for sleeping and a handkerchief with several ice cubes on the forehead!’ the old man exclaimed emotionally.
‘And the cold on the face really calms you down?’ his interlocutor raised his eyebrows in surprise.
‘You bet!’
Charlie successfully escorted the old man without his knowledge straight to the house where he lived, keeping a considerable distance and not arousing suspicion - and after his 8th victim went into his house, without stopping, he continued walking as if nothing had happened, strolling and enjoying the silence and fresh air. The old man's house stood a little apart from all the others, it was one-storey and rather dilapidated, Charlie did not see any surveillance cameras on its territory, and right behind the old man's house there was a small forest.
At night, Charlie returned to the old man's house from the forest - in leather gloves and a medical mask. A low semblance of a dilapidated wooden fence and an open window hospitably invited him to freely enter. The lights were turned off everywhere, and the only sounds were the rustling of tree branches and leaves. Charlie carefully climbed into the kitchen. He froze for a few more seconds, listening. Silence. He opened the freezer compartment of the refrigerator and took 2 ice cubes resembling dices.
The old man was fast asleep - having taken sleeping pills, with a sleep mask over his eyes and a damp handkerchief on his forehead. Charlie went to the head of the bed and, squeezing the ice with his right palm, carefully pinched the owner of the house's nose with the fingers of his left hand. Almost immediately, the old man began to breathe through his mouth, and on his next breath, Charlie lightly threw the already melting ice cubes onto his tongue. The ice flew into his throat without touching his tongue, and a moment later the old man began to cough.
A few days later, the local media reported a domestic accident: an elderly man living in a private house in the suburbs died in his sleep, having choked.
Charlie took a pair of scissors and carefully cut out a photo from a printed newspaper about this incident.

Situation 13. Underground parking

Charlie came to one of many city cafes and went to the nearest empty table located on the street, clearly intending to satisfy the desire to find his 13th victim.
‘Hello, senior!’ a young guy of about 20 years old shouted to him, apparently sunburned - his skin was very red. In his hand he had a glass of cocoa and on the table next to him was a can of Coca-Cola.
‘Good day, what?’ Charlie responded irritably.
‘Cocaine, my friend?’ smiling a shining snow-white smile, the guy asked in a casual tone.
‘Um, no need, no, thank you, have a nice day!’ Charlie waved his hand, embarrassed, and sat down at an empty table.
‘And it’s naive to even think about the police - there is no evidence that this dialogue took place or that it was not a joke,’ he thought. ‘My word against the word of a charismatic guy with cocoa and cola, who, of course, will say that the stupid interlocutor did not understand that he said something about cocoa or cola. Brilliant!’
A man of about 30 sat down next to the dealer of illegal substances. After a short quiet conversation, they exchanged small packages: one gave, apparently, money, the other - that white powder, or something like that. Charlie hopefully perceived the whole situation as a sign of fate, since he himself had long dreamed of using his special powder.
He easily and discreetly walked the man to his home, which turned out to be a motorhome, parked in a forest belt near the city. Charlie returned to the city by bus, took a bag of ricin at home and in his car, wearing leather gloves and a medical mask, drove to the nearest pizzeria.
He learned that ricin is an extremely toxic protein substance that can be extracted from the seeds of the castor plant, also known as castor beans. When ingested, it causes death by blocking protein synthesis in cells. It is a rare and virtually untraceable poison that is easy to hide in food and causes death within a few days of consumption.
‘Your Pepperoni, please,’ the pizzeria employee said.
In the car, Charlie poured the entire contents of the bag in an even layer on the fragrant mixture of cheese and meat on the dough. According to the road navigator, it should be there within an hour. In the evening, he knocked on the door of the trailer.
‘Pizza delivery! Our pizzeria is giving away 100 Pepperonis for free today and you are one of the lucky ones chosen at random!’
Footsteps, the door opened, and the owner of the camper appeared on the threshold - in an adequate state.
‘Um... good day, wow, thank you! I've never won anything in a raffle in my whole life...’ the man smiled, holding out his hands, taking the pizza box and accidentally dropping it on the ground - the lid opened during the fall and triangular pieces flew in different directions.
‘Damn hell!’ both exclaimed at once. The man bent down embarrassedly and began to collect the trash with his hands, and Charlie took a couple of steps back and, with a short running start, hit his interlocutor on the head with his boot, then again, and again.
A few minutes later, Charlie came to his senses, trying to catch his breath. All the grass on the ground, his clothes and those of his recent interlocutor were dark red, and there was little left of the man's face lying on the ground. Charlie was still furious, but now he just stood there, exhausted and breathing heavily. All he had in the van were large, thick black garbage bags, and there was nothing to wash off the blood.
A drop, two, three, a flash, a loud sharp sound - and suddenly a heavy downpour fell from the sky, which after a few moments almost completely washed away the fresh scarlet liquid from everywhere.
Charlie cheered up a little, but was still very angry. Everything had not gone according to plan, and now he had a body in his arms. He needed to think and do something urgently. A garbage bag, of course, looks unremarkable overall, but if the police stop him and ask to show what's inside... And over time, of course, there will be a smell. And where to put it?
Water poured from the sky without stopping. Charlie placed the body in the bag, shoved it into the back, got behind the wheel of his white van, started the engine, and drove along an empty, dark, glistening road with water, surrounded on both sides by an endless strip of trees - not a soul outside.
What to do?
Flickering lights of street lamps on poles and wriggling light stripes on the asphalt.
What to do?
The sky with rare flashes in the black clouds, peals of thunder and raindrops drumming on the glass. The forest gave way to a field and the road seemed to be surrounded by a dark sea.
‘What should I do with you, Charlie?’ said a voice from Charlie's right ear.
He winced and looked at the passenger seat next to him. There sat a gray-haired old man in a black hoodie and dark jeans.
‘Motherfokke...’ Charlie cried out with a wince, then slowly inhaled and exhaled, rolling his eyes. ‘Who are you?’
‘You know, I'll get tired of listing names,’ the interlocutor answered.
‘I see, it's all from stress,’ muttered Charlie. ‘I don't believe in the devil.’
‘Well, he believes in you. Although, I'm not him.’
‘Whoever you are, you have no right to judge me. I only do what I like and what I'm good at with talent.’
‘I'm not judging - I'm just accompanying. By the way, sometimes it's not that talented and good, right?’ the old man smiled and shook his head towards the body behind. ‘However, the three stories you remembered are really your most vivid.’
‘And what's interesting about the third one then?’
‘This one? Well, because of me.’
‘So, where are you taking me, guide?’
‘You know, to the parking lot, time to stop.’
The surroundings outside the windshield changed: Charlie found himself behind the wheel of a van, slowly moving along a circular parking lot, twisted into a spiral of levels and smoothly descending.
‘Here's a new photo, Charlie.’
‘I don't have the photo album with me now, it's at home...’
‘Don’t worry, I took it with me, here, now all thirteen will be together,’ the old man handed over the photo album and the photo.
‘I don't see any free spots, where to stop?’
‘Keep driving, we need to go a few levels lower, Charlie.’

August, 2024