"It's USELESS. dangerous. They won't listen to us. They think we're savages. They won't hear us. And if the ENEMY finds out about us, he won't stop until he's exterminated every last one. And you know it, Supreme.

"Are we going to stand aside and look at it again?!"

"If necessary, we will watch."

"You probably won't see it, old man. You probably won't see it. And we'll see. And, most importantly, we will feel everything. We're scared, Wise One. The pain of one is excruciating. The pain and death of trillions is UNBEARABLE. You can't hide from it. And all the women of the clan are powerful empaths. You know that."

"The ENEMY is still as strong as ever. We don't know where his heart is. And if we don't know where it is, we can't win."

"But maybe it's a STATION?"

"No. She's just a part, a tool. It has already been used. They thought they had won. But after years, the ENEMY returned and finished what he had started."

"Are they INUSANNON?"

"Yes."

A truck flew up, the door of a small passenger compartment attached to it opened, a young man jumped out of it and bowed to the old man. He got up heavily, and the conversation with the supreme awakened the shaman's soul. The whole nation has been asking itself the question for more than a hundred thousand cycles: "Are we right?" Under the quiet hum of the truck, sitting on a hard bench, the old man peered into the depths of his colossal memory and whispered: "Maybe we were mistaken? Maybe we didn't see something?" There was no response....

Here's a human city. The truck flew into the square in front of a large store, landed, the young men got out of it, with them was a man — a "master of goods". He bowed to the old man and asked if he would go with them. The shaman refused. He went out and looked around — the square was deserted, only there were bikes on the edge, and someone was sitting on one of them. The old man felt that this was exactly who he needed. As he got closer, he saw the man sitting there-it was a human boy. He was wearing a green shirt and black trousers. With red hair and greenish eyes.

With surprise, the old man realized that he was sentient... and not only sentient, but also gifted with magic. The old man's attention was attracted by his white wings. Although they are energetic, they are not visible to ordinary people. Looking at them, he realized with a shudder: in front of him was another legend of his people, a legend that the people had encountered only once and carefully preserved the memory of it. The kid was one of THEM. In his people, people like him were called THOSE WHO HAD PASSED THROUGH DEATH.

Igor.

I was sitting like a crow on Azat's bike. The square in front of the store was deserted, with dry leaves and a single piece of paper blowing across it. The town seemed to have died out, although it was not surprising: adults were at work, and children were either at home or outside the city — in such heat, everyone preferred to be closer to the water. On the other side of the square, under the awning of the city club, a Krogan was sitting on a massive rocking chair, swaying slightly, reading something from a datapad, the chair creaking faintly under him. A purple-skinned Azari came out of the club, holding two tall glasses with some bright green liquid in her hands.

She handed one to the Krogan and sat down in a nearby wicker chair. She said something, and the Krogan answered, and they both laughed. There was a sense of relaxation and contentment from the sensible ones-things were going well at the club.

There was a low hum. Is the freighter flying? And sure enough, a brightly and gaudily painted ore truck landed on the square, instead of a dump truck, there was an ordinary body on it, but with high sides. A passenger booth was protruding from the front side. These were usually used by mining thieves.

They bought a decommissioned truck, changed the body, put it in order, and drove it anywhere. Cheap and practical, and most importantly, the body is large. The ore truck sat down. Three young men came out from behind him, thieves in gray hoodie clothes, but with brightly embroidered belts, followed by an older man, dressed a little better. They turned to someone standing behind the car, asked something, bowed, and scurried off to the store with a bird-like gait.

I got tired of just sitting there and took my flute out of my backpack. He started playing a simple tune. Then I realized that someone was looking at me. When I opened my eyes and looked around, I saw an amazing intelligent man. He was wearing a bright scarlet jumpsuit, somewhat similar to a ninja costume from Hollywood action movies, only covered with silver embroidery. There is a hood on his head, his face is hidden by a mask, only turquoise-blue eyes with vertical pupils are visible, without whites. His birdlike legs are encased in black shiny boots that fit like gloves. I looked into his eyes, and he flinched, but I didn't feel any emotion. I didn't feel him at all, as if no one was there. Oppa, the shut-up empath.

Vorka tilted his head to the side like a bird and said in a low, raspy voice:

"Greetings to you, Who Have Passed Through Death."

what? WHAT DID HE SAY?! How did he know?! My thoughts were like frightened cockroaches. Vorka came close to me. I put the flute back in its case and put it in my bag.

"I can help you. To teach. To tell. To explain. Do you want to see and find out the truth?"

"But how did you know?! Who are you?" I whispered.

"I am the Keeper of the memory of my people. You humans and others call us shamans. But we do not conjure spirits, we do not knock on tambourines — we preserve the memory of our people for all the time of its existence."

"And for how long? How old is your story?" I asked quietly.

"More than one hundred and ten thousand of your years."

"How much?" What about the Reapers' Harvest cycle? And during this time, it was possible to develop into a space civilization 5 or 6 times.

"Are you surprised?" Vorka rasped.

But you're considered savages. Aggressive, uncontrollable, violent. Your gangs are scaring children. Your homeworld is a radioactive dump. Some people even consider you to be animals, not intelligent.

"Let them count. We did it on purpose to hide. Look away from us."

"Whose look is it?"

Vorka looked at me carefully, tilting his head first to one side and then to the other.

"YOU KNOW THAT."

"THE REAPERS." I whispered, and a cold and heavy lump formed in my stomach. I was so hoping it would work out. The world is already in the 24th century, and the events were in 2183. Although that Reaper warned that their prediction was not absolute.

"That's what the Protheans called them. We just call them the ENEMY."

"How will you show me and how will you explain?"

Old man Vorka, for some reason I clearly realized that he was old, sat down next to me, on the bike seat, and asked:

"What do you know about Asari's "embrace of eternity"?"

They unite consciousnesses. The thoughts, feelings, and memories of the intelligent become temporarily shared.

"That's not quite true," he squeaked. "In the case of unification with other races, contact is one-sided, the Asari see you, but you don't see them. Unless they want to show something of their own."

"And you?"

"We call it "togetherness" and we are open. All Guardians of all Vorka clans can use the common memory of the people and the memory of each other, combined into one whole. By connecting others, we don't hide anything, so we try not to associate with strangers."

"Like computer networks."

"The comparison is correct. We can connect you to our memory for a while and give you the necessary knowledge about the Reapers."

"Will my memory be available to you?"

"Yes, it will. Do you have something special you want to hide?"

"No. There is nothing like that — you already know my most important secret. It's just not clear how you recognized her..."

"There used to be people like you. The knowledge of at least three people like you is stored in the common memory, and one of them was among our people. He was the one who taught us how to create a shared memory-he was the first Keeper. He taught us how to identify people like you. He took us to the stars and found out about the ENEMY. That was a hundred and ten thousand years ago. He lived a very long life, and the memory of him still lives in the people. Do you agree?"

"Yes, I agree. Such gifts are not refused. What do I need to do?"

"Just look into my eyes."

I looked and fell into a living, intelligent abyss shining with myriads of stars. He showed the history of his people. And at the very end, I asked him:

"Can you show them to me?"

"Do you want to see the ENEMY?"

"Yes, I do. I want to know what awaits us."

"Look."

I found myself among the ruins, the sun was not visible, dense gray clouds were flying and swirling across the dark sky. Strange creatures in equally strange armor stood and sat around, hiding behind the rubble. In their six-fingered hands, they clutched something that looked like a weapon — most likely, it was. Anxiety and fear were mixed in their feelings. Everyone was looking at the sky. And from there, some kind of huge shadow was descending on us. The clouds swirled, reddish lightning bolts appeared, and a huge black bulk fell out of the low clouds.

Six thick paws extended from the outstretched body in front. The carcass sank lower and lower — I realized with horror the monstrous size of this machine. The REAPER, and it could only be him, spread his paws and landed at incredible speed. The ground jumped under my feet, and I saw many people collapse around me.

The REAPER straightened up, and a low, vibrating roar filled the area. He seemed to penetrate into every corner of my body, every cell seemed to vibrate in sync with him. Wild animal TERROR flooded me. The reaper moved forward, slowly shifting its paws, it approached us with cold relentlessness. The sentient beings around them jumped up and began shooting, thin ruby rays hissing out of the outlandish weapon and disappearing on the surface of the mechanical creature. The reaper stopped, turned its body slightly, and a thick crimson beam shot out from the base. He moved along the rubble, and the hefty blocks of stone simply spread out in bubbling puddles at his touch. The sensible ones just disappeared with pops. The beam came up to the wreckage I was hiding behind, and everything was flooded with red light.

I woke up, there was a square of our town around, next to it stood Listening to the Stars and looking at me sadly. Phew, that's real. I checked the color of my wings. White. Well, that's great.

"Now you know what awaits us."

"This is the third time your people will see this. How do you live with it? After all, you are strong empaths, you feel everything that happens."

All the air seemed to have been drained from the old man, he hunched over, lowered his gaze and whispered:

"We don't see a way out yet. We don't see how we can defeat the ENEMY."

He turned and shuffled off towards the ore truck.

"Keeper." I shouted. "If events turn out the way you saw in my memory, if I need help, can I ask your people for it?"

Vorka shuddered and stood for a while. Then he straightened up, squared his shoulders, and looked around.

"If that's the case, and you call us..." His eyes seemed to glow, "We will come to you and stand next to you."

Looking at his back, I thought. Would human have been able to deliberately drop their entire race from the heights of civilization into complete and utter barbarism with their own hands? Turn the race into astronauts and explorers, diggers and bandits? And all in order to win someday?

What remains in my memory is how the Reaper platforms, when they came to the Hashtag, saw only the destroyed and abandoned orbital infrastructure and rabid hordes of savages hacking at the surface for everything. The monsters left without touching Vorka. But smart machines have not been able to sense how closely they are being watched from the surface by a similar, but only organic mind. I have seen how for thousands of years Vork has been searching for the mysterious Center — the heart of the machine mind. They're looking for him and they can't find him, and there aren't even any clues as to where he is. But the Keepers showed me exactly what it is. And it wasn't a Citadel. I saw through the eyes of the Guardians the full power of the station's mind, but at the same time, its absolute subordination to someone else. And the Reapers themselves are just platforms controlled from the outside, completely devoid of independence, scary, powerful... and yet pitiful slaves.

The old man was leaving, and it became crystal clear to me: the Harvest was waiting for me, and there was no way to escape or hide. My new childhood is over, now I have to evaluate my every action from the outside. To calculate how he will help me in the future, whether he will strengthen me or weaken me.

I took out my flute and started playing a sad melody. I was so carried away that I didn't even notice the tears running down my cheeks.

Date

June 10, 2360

Deniska's voice pulled me out of my memories.

— Snake, we're coming. We're doing everything as agreed. Are you okay?

— The best of all! — I get up on the seat and kiss my brother on the cheek. — Don't mess it up yourself!

— No way!

We sit down behind the store, Vaska and I take seats against its wall and wait. About ten minutes later, we hear footsteps and some kind of rattling. I look around the corner and see a young Turian woman wearing a short jumpsuit skirt and a white T-shirt with a dragon's face. She walks thoughtfully down the path, wearing sandals, but that doesn't stop her from kicking an empty plastic beer can in front of her. Her gaze is fixed into the distance, detached and thoughtful. Bina and I hide around the corner and start giggling with our hands over our mouths.

"Shhh!" Deniska hisses at us. — Be quiet, you'll scare me off! — he comes over and also looks around the corner. A second later, he hides, looks at us, a malicious smile on his lips. — You're as accurate as ever, Snake! Another lover.

— She's coming out now, and your party begins. Binochka, make a serious face! Snake, I'm counting on you! That's it, let's go.

The first part of the plan went like clockwork. Under the double pressure of Bina and me, Noverry gave up after two minutes. Our blue one put her on her bike, we all flew together to the Rinaris for a swimsuit for the tourist, and we warned her parents that she would be with us in the Mirror.

We arrived at the lake. There was already a table, blankets, and a steaming cauldron on the heater. All our noisy crowd of small fry were shouting and chasing a ball through the shallow water. Azat was not observed.

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