Web of light. Part 1-7

Of course, I figured out what to do with the map. For this purpose, I bought and assembled another computer and bought an external IP from the provider. Now I remember Visual Basic. Yes, yes, I know it sucks, but I didn't code anything else at the university, I'm sorry! And it will be relatively easy to attach the web interface to the program. It remains to figure out how to assemble the logic of receiving signals and make a mago-computer interface. Well, it looks like I'm the only person in the whole world who has SUCH problems right now! Even my mood improved.

Entry sixty-ninth.

Christmas passed, and Rinko's parents took her back to her relatives, just like last year. And I'm sculpting an "adapter" in the basement. I managed to order a controller board with a USB interface in a trivial way. Of course, it's not for tracking magical manifestations, it's just a banal fire alarm system with trigger marks. But you can attach 400 devices to it (a field of 20 x 20 contacts), which is what I need. However, even with a voltmeter and instructions with specifications, it's not so easy to avoid false alarms: I've been fucking for three days now. Well, again, judging by the hexadecimal code, this is the perimeter on the highway side. Hmm, but the tension is normal this time... Holy shit! A light on the map! Fuck, who did it bring?!

Part 9

Entry seventy.

I'm a big-eared fucker! Weapons! I should have at least tried to make a weapon. And I speculated pathetically and put this matter on the back burner! I only have a stunner, and that one is actually disposable. And this? Great, a knife with a button-down blade, "tourist". It's good that I bought it on sale, but it's not processed, and there's no time. And the source of the magic is moving at the speed of a moving car, it's already at the boundaries of the block, is it really here? No, he stopped. No, it's moving, but it's much slower now. Here he crossed the border of the block... Damn, he's really coming here! Okay, stop! Calm down immediately! The walls of the house are reinforced, you can't enlighten him with magic, and you can't just enter. The glass in the windows does not break or cut with a diamond, and the walls will withstand a tank shell. The walls are my parents, and the glass is already mine, as are the frames.

But he's really coming here! But he's not in a hurry, he's a bitch, like he's on a walk. so! Stop! One more time. Why is he coming? Analysis.

He arrived, judging by the speed, by car.

Yokai prefer to move on their own, they don't trust technology — this is according to the manga, but let's take it for granted. So far, there seemed to be no reason to doubt.

By car, it means a person. Giving a mark means a magician. Who are our active magicians? The exorcists. Police or Social... The committee even remembered the name from stress.

Could it be a spirit? Only if you took the bus.

Google. Public transport routes. No, not a bus. Taxi? Is unknown. But more like a human being.

Accepted — a representative of the magicians is coming here.

Advantages? Guaranteed defeat of the opponent in a fight if I touch him or get hit by a discharge. If there is an attack, it will be a physical one that does not attract attention, I am protected from the mental one.

The disadvantages of the situation? Juvenile colony. Stop, if it's on the street, at home, it's self-defense. Why should I let him in?

Should not. Maybe I'm not at home. Analysis: the purpose of the appearance? Most likely, it's a routine check of my residence. Analysis. The action should be regular, but not frequent (no one is interested in me yet, unless I got fired up with glasses then). If he had spoken to me last year, I would have remembered. Memory correction? What's the point? And the amulet blocks it, but you can't take it off. Hence, surveillance and questioning of neighbors. Is that logical? Logically. Ugh-ugh-ugh!

Pulse is under 180, blood is pumping in my ears. My heart is ready to jump out. But I'm protected now. And the walls of the house, and their status.

The only thing worth doing is to try to look at the Committee agent through the window, carefully so that he doesn't notice me. Most likely, this is my supervisor. Most likely, it provides operational surveillance. Not very often. Maybe once a month or once every six months, and most likely closer to the second. The gap between the street wall and the curtain in the bedroom on the second floor. Narrow. My eyesight is excellent. The street is in full view. And almost empty. A stranger should appear from that corner. Great. Calm the heartbeat, inhale, exhale. To wait. He's coming now...

Interlude 1. Employee of the Department of Work with Minors Ishiro Seizura, Social Committee

Ishiro walked leisurely along the street of this always quiet, surprisingly calm, slightly sleepy neighborhood. He had long been in love with the streets of his hometown, in general, that's why he ended up in his position. Он давно был влюблен в улицы своего родного города, в общем-то, именно поэтому и оказался на своем посту. Above the position of social inspector, the next step is the social controller, one for the whole city. The controller, of course, is also from the Jiguji clan, which gives certain opportunities to the subordinate for various manipulations... if Ishiro wanted to see them off. There are not enough really capable families of exorcists left. Over the past fifty years, as many as three influential groups have descended from the scene of events onto the pages of history... and it gave his clan an opportunity to rise. Illegitimate children with at least a tiny bit of strength, who renounced their last name, foreign fugitives who wanted to fall under the wing of a strong patron — they were all accepted, perhaps not by a very friendly, but definitely by a large and strong family. This affected the internal climate of the clan.

Namagomi. The scavengers. That's what the clan was called behind its back. Jinguji accepted everything. And offensive nicknames, and fragments of other people's knowledge. They collected artifacts. They encouraged the most adventurous plans if they led to one thing. Strength and power. And not to say that it turned out very badly. It worked out well. At least, the creation of a Social Committee, pushed through the Clan Council, which became a de facto parallel structure to the police forces, where magically gifted law enforcement officers were traditionally supplied by the Tsuchimikado clan, perfectly demonstrated the increasing influence of the crescent bearers. The Exorcist Department of the police investigated crimes where Yokai were present (mostly murders, although there were also thefts, body seizures, and sometimes banal begging) and punished criminals. The Social Committee became the one who looked after the guards and did other "unnecessary" work. He found and controlled unregistered or ordinary-born magicians, monitored the non-magical activities of clans and their individual representatives, and monitored the manifestations of non-criminal activity of Yokai in cities. He looked after mixed married couples of humans and spirits. Polite, non-intrusive. And he recorded all the events in detail. The dossiers in the databases grew line by line, and the folders on the shelves grew thicker. So far, the Jinguji have not shown any obvious activity towards rival clans, but the volume of compromising material on individual high-born asses sitting in high office chairs, as Ishiro suspected, has already gained critical mass. It would be possible to move to the statistics department, the social inspector has already been offered an analytical position several times, to which he was clearly predisposed. And then there was career growth, and maybe, in the case of a successful job, a modest analyst in ten years would be offered to marry one of the younger daughters of the side branches. And their children would already have a surname and a crescent moon on their foreheads: the young clan, unlike the swaggering and arrogant ancients, understood perfectly well that power is not only in magic and ancestral abilities. Often, the ability to think is more important than the ability to use a fireball.

However, Ishiro refused. He loved the streets too much and despised intrigue and politics too much. Let the younger ones build a career and fight for the right to join the younger families. He's satisfied with his work, just done well.

"... Here's kso, it's gone wrong again," Ishiro took his hands out of his pockets, looking around the dim and gray street after the bright lights of Christmas. "And there's no snow again." He had been here more than once, since the Amakawa couple and their child had settled here. A youthful, energetic husband and wife, glowing with magical aura energy. And a gray, "ordinary", sullen child in between.

"That's it, Mr. Inspector-san. Listen here, I'm not going to repeat it. We came here to live, just to live. Don't interrupt! We are not interested in the past or the exorcists' cases. Don't worry, we will protect our house. Our son, too."

"But I have to check how gifted civilians are living without a seal..."

"Don't worry, Inspector-san, we haven't forgotten how to kill Yokai. However, we will see you twice a year, we are ordinary, law-abiding citizens."

For some reason, Ishiro couldn't remember their faces back then. He remembered all the phrases he had said and heard, remembered how the lips, male and female, moved when pronouncing words. It was as if he himself couldn't look up at them, couldn't look into their eyes.

He came here three more times and found the whole family three times. He greeted them, politely asked about the weather and health, and asked if the esteemed Amakawa needed anything. And he invariably received a refusal and assurances that everything was fine, purposefully put a check mark on the workaround list (so as not to think that he had come on his own initiative or for some other purpose) and left. The fourth time, he was disrupted from his rounds just a week after visiting a house on a quiet street in a slightly sleepy neighborhood. Crash. So banal, so simple. Two cars collided head-on on an empty street. Things happen. Even with exorcists who can outrun an Olympic sprinter like a cheetah can outrun a turtle. Accident, speeding and negligence on the road — Amakawa did not buckle up. That's what the gloomy, disheveled Tsuchimikado investigator said, you can trust these guys. There was no sign of Yokai around the accident site, but then the clan leader changed his principles and sent an emissary. Amakawa's heir died, as did his wife. Death was instantaneous. That's it. There's only one child left, and judging by the empty aura, he's not a magician.

Then he was called by the exhausted Shigura-senpai, the then social controller.

"Ishiro," he said, "please do everything around the last Amakawa, according to the will. Transfer the money there and make payments. Little Yuto should get boarding. And make sure that no one is hanging around him... from other clans.

"But, Shiguro-san! The child! He just turned nine! Custody..."

"There are no relatives, you know as well as I do!"

"How can you do this to a child?!"

Shiguro exhaled, pulled off his glasses, and narrowed his already narrow eyes at his subordinate in a tired, short-sighted way.

"It's politics, Ishiro-kun, it's fucking vile politics. We can't dispute the will, his parents gave three copies to three clans. No contact before the age of 16. Not to educate about our "world", the world of Yokai and magicians — "let the child have a childhood" is how they wrote it."

"But we..."

"We can't do anything. He is the heir, the clan formally exists."

"And how do we base this on our neighbors? Driving Crazy Ibiki around again, brainwashing the neighbors?"

"No, it looks like the boy's parents did something... preemptively."

"Something? Have you done it?"

"They did not violate the agreement — there are no traces of magical interference. Maybe it was simply bribed. I don't know and I don't want to know. Do you know what the rumors were about these Amakawa?"

"What kind of rumors are these!?"

Shiguro put his glasses back on and straightened up in his chair.

"I probably shouldn't repeat that to me..." He began hesitantly. "The Amakawa were called spirit tamers."

"I heard that."

"But I saw it. Once, when I was a kid." Shigura habitually poked his forehead with his finger, pointing to the crescent moon: they say, I've been stewing in this broth since birth.

"The spectacle is not for the faint of heart. The spirit reeks of Strength and Thirst, twisting my guts, and he came up and stroked my head. He barely glows against the background of such power, but he is completely calm! "Nice, sweet kitty." And she looks at you like you're at lunch, and she's scared to her wet pants. This is the grandfather of our ward, who brought a pet to the Tsuchimikado house. "Routine checkup," br-r, as I remember, I shudder."

"But still, a child..." the social inspector tried to return to the previous topic, but the boss just shook his head...

Shaking his head, Ishiro dispersed his circling thoughts — the house he was looking for was visible at the end of the street. Gray-white, similar to the neighboring houses, like a brother. There was no light in the windows. Ishiro really wanted to go to the gate right away, to see if everything was all right?

Still alone at home... But you can't. Instead, the inspector rang the intercom at the street gate of the first house on the street. He waited, but no one answered. He moved on to the next one, then crossed the roadway and called the house across the street. He smiled politely at a young mother with a toddler in her arms, introduced himself as a social inspector (it was true), and made an appropriate facial expression. Speaking memorized phrases so that they sound sincere is a talent and a lot of practice. The woman quickly invited him into the house, set down a traditional glass of tea, verbally and in detail answered questions about playgrounds and the availability of fresh milk within walking distance, and Ishiro searched the neighborhood of the house with his weak spell. Empty. A magical vacuum. At the same time, he did not stop listening and even marked several defects found by his mother in the children's complex near the park. Ishiro never forgot to send information to the right place, and then make sure that the authorities worked out. For this and for his ability to speak, he was always sent on "long-distance" trips to the private sector away from the skyscrapers of the city center. Who can say — they moved it, but the social inspector was happy. No, the mother and her Girlfriends did not notice any strange silhouettes, or strangers disappearing or appearing.