…itals, schools and art museums. Why he gave up his money and died remained an unsolved riddle. And Tumanov didn’t ever make a film about it so we can’t know for sure who it was, but we can guess as guessed the President. From that day their talks on art became regular, at least once a month. Tumanov was appointed the President’s consultant on UFO research, a secret but official post, which opened for him the doors of the White House and Washington political clubs.

 

 

                                  SSS

 

  Olga went to Russia again, this time to Moscow, with her mother for casting in a Russian film. Hollywood would never see it but in Russia it went in cinema theaters and finally on the air. It was nothing special, just a love story, repeated in two generations, but she was accepted to the gild and got some official status in Russian cinema. Then she recorded an album of Russian songs and came back. The verses were Oleg’s old experiments, saved just by chance in his papers at Stavropol home and discovered during their last visit. His past was a mystery and Olga knew about him so little that each time, when something popped up, was surprised.

   Oleg came to Moscow too with a letter from the American President to his Russian counterpart, proposing cooperation in UFO research. He met with his former colleges from space intelligence and handed the document. They read it and promised to submit to the President, when he would be inclined to accept it. He waited for two weeks, watching Olga’s casting and when it was finished went back to the USA without any response. The previous Russian President allowed any researches and experiments; the new one was concentrated on his own ideas and interests and didn’t trust Americans. So Russian space intelligence was gradually dying and Tumanov was glad he left it before and didn’t get entrapped in the deadlock.

  The positive side of it was indifference to his fantasy films. No one accused him of breaking secrecy etc. He was forgotten completely and his results became his own intellectual property. New powers had new problems and aspirations and naturally didn’t care for the past. He was not disappointed because the job was already done and wished his former colleges good luck. FSS was busy, controlling business and economical processes, restoring its positions, lost during ideological reforms, and also didn’t care for him or his success. Moscow lived its own life and he felt himself alien on its streets among hurrying crowds. Olga’s formal success also didn’t hold her from going back and soon they were again in their happy home near the Bermuda Triangle where they met.

  There were no problems or tasks ahead and they decided to enlarge their family. It turned out to be a daughter, Nell, Nellie or Eleanor, "sun ray, shining light".

  When Tumanov already forgot about the American proposal, an answer came from Russia – “Yes”. After some negotiation Presidents agreed to start a common project - Space Security Service (SSS) and to appoint Tumanov its chief. For its headquarters he chose Miami and Stavropol, at distance from the state political centers to move away form national politics and to tune to space.

   As a part of the deal Tumanov got double citizenship and was subordinate to both Presidents directly. Nick became the chief if the American Department and Tumanov gathered all Russian space intelligence people. FSS and CIA with FIB were informed about the new organization and established official professional relations, their personnel was allowed to request for transfer to SSS without losses of status, rank and wages. In case of abolishing SSS all results were to be divided on equal terms and both national departments would become its legal heirs. Nick should remain the chief of the American one and Tumanov should return to Russia and head the Russian.  Then both organizations should continue close cooperation.

  Now we should fix Nick’s last name. It wasn't mentioned because Nick wouldn’t like it. But now as an official he became known as Colonel McCaskey and soon became a general.  Tumanov remained civilian and appointed General Mihailov his representative for FSS. He allowed SSS officers to work on any state posts and have private business, which allured many professionals from the traditional security organizations and very quickly he got all the staff he needed.

  They collected and exchanged all UFO visits and extraterrestrial contacts reports, checked and summed up the information and sent it to other agencies, including mass media to create a realistic picture and correct attitude towards the phenomena. Soon they came to the conclusion that alien’s appearance was different from the usual description, because all witnesses were under a hypnotic impact of astral fields, distorting their vision and memory. The fields were byproducts of alien technology, enabling flights through multidimensional space, and real appearance of extraterrestrials might be quite human. People under hypnosis had the same distortions and computer analysis discovered their identity to babies' vision of their mother due to unfocused eyes in the first days of their life.

  Then SSS created a network of one hundred transmission stations to send messages to UFOs and receive theirs if any. They chose best works of art with cosmic dimension, which might be close to alien culture and might appeal to alien tastes. Tumanov's films were included too. UFOs noticed the initiative and their visits around the stations increased and concentrated. The usual alien greetings to Earth were crop circles, created by some fields without breaking the plants, which was not possible in fraud imitations. The structure of the crop circles contained mathematical information, which proved their artificial origin so they might like the new idea and send a response. But they didn't. And SSS worked only one way to space, though it was better than the mixture of real art and rubbish on TV.

   The closest to extraterrestrial flights phenomena was teleportation and SSS studied it too with the help of Indian yogis, who claimed to have the ability and really demonstrated something under cameras and other devices control. It was rare but possible and all the collected material proved the version that alien flights were based on technological teleportation, similar to natural or supernatural human.

  Then alien response came. It was just music, resembling meditative Western, or traditional Indian, or cosmic rock, or electronic jazz, but with unusual melodies and rhythms, more complex and developed like classical symphonic. So the main Tumanov’s idea, cultural exchange, proved to be effective and SSS celebrated success. It was a small step towards mutual understanding and no one expected further quick results. Humanity should develop its own way and deserve their recognition and respect, but this response showed that they moved in the right direction and that in the future too the main language of communication with other civilizations will be our art.

   So Tumanov returned cinema and made a serial about SSS. One hundred hours of semi-fantastic, semi-realistic evens in all the countries, which recognized and supported the project, including the past of all participants from the Cold War to the present days. It took more than a year to organize all material in a logical sequence with both American and Russian actors, but for security and secrecy reasons its release was postponed for ten years.

   During casting Tumanov spend much time in Stavropol and got accustomed to Russia again. Problems here still existed but he was more ready to solve them both as a writer and as a ninja. Gradually the interest to SSS decreased as its results and politicians returned to their usual national interests and election campaigns. They needed wide political support and had no time or desire for international cooperation. One usual day all received a note from the Russian President that common SSS is abolished and divided into national space intelligence agencies as agreed at the start. He thanked everybody for the work, congratulated with good results and wished next success. Tumanov was appointed the chief and warned that according to traditional rules for security services he could not go abroad and should give up foreign citizenship. The moment was chosen when he was in Stavropol and the door to America was closed. He was declared to have state secrets and denied foreign trips for ten years after he leaves the post. The President apologized for the inconvenience and explained that that they had new tasks, based on national interests and promised as compensation Tumanov the rank of a general.

   The was the end of his Miami period of life and creativity and the end of the whole American dream, though it already came true and he was not a looser form both Russian and American point of view.

 

 

                                               Dream

 

   Tumanov was allowed contacts with foreigners in the Internet and in Stavropol or Moscow for making films. So in some time they came. They chose as official status business or tourism. The idea of the films was based on yoga teleportation to space and adventures in new or developed civilizations. The new secret task of Russian SSS was tied with alien technology and weapons so in the film no technology was mentioned at all. Everything was like in ordinary fantasy with exclusion to extraterrestrial cultural content. Alien were described as they are from psychological point of view. And the main accent was shifted to personal relations of the main hero, teleporting space scout, with alien girls. Ninja love stories were continued as space love stories of the same man. He mastered teleportation and didn’t need plane tickets to other countries or stars.

  Kate, Lulu and Lucy successfully played alien beauties with convincing love scenes and the films returned Tumanov to Hollywood and American TV as if he never left. Pure fantasy like fairy-tales didn’t meet any objection from American politicians or Russian security services, the Russian President congratulated Tumanov with successful adaptation to home conditions and continuation of international cooperation. The American one sent only SMS – “Never surrender!”

  SSS was an inspiring theme for fantasy and he decided to mythologize it for hiding secret reality in symbols and images. Further events gave some ideas too. The President and the FSS Director had a lot of common interests but each wanted to be the real boss. So the President decided to teach him a lesson and invited Tumanov for a private confidential talk.

   - Do you know that now you have the right to become the FSS chief? Your current post is serious enough for any continuation.

   - Me? – Tumanov laughed, - What do I have in common with them?

   - Nothing. And that’s the reason. You are not experienced in politics and I’ll explain you. Any President needs obedient men in the uniform and appoints conflicting figures to major posts. Divides and rules. But if they stop competing and unite he looses his real power and become just their toy. I need for FSS an alien like you, - he laughed, - so that they couldn’t press me into the corner. It’s half serious but sounds real and I want to scare them.

   Thus Tumanov again got in trouble with the notorious organization. They didn’t want him as the boss, he didn’t want them too, but the President needed a counterbalance and provoked the FSS Director’s attempts to take control of SSS and personally Tumanov, an American in Stavropol, who threatened his post. At the next meeting the President went further.

  - Who taught you playing a ninja? It looks very real.

  - Why do you think so? Are a ninja to judge?

  - As a President I know very much about everything.

  - Do you have a ninja consultant?

  - Perhaps.

  - I had too for cinema, and you must know that ninjas don’t like any talk about them. So why do you ask?

  - I have the right to know and I’m going to check it up myself, - and he took out two sticks. – We are going to fight. Defend yourself.

  He turned out to be a good expert and by his style Tumanov understood that he was a ninja too, though not from his clan. The President as a ninja understood the same.

  - Now I know your secret and you know my. So we must work together.

  - That’s why real ninjas never play in cinema.

  - Yes, they prefer politics and business. And you made your choice long ago, when appeared on the screens.

  - But still I’m an actor and I was trained for games.

  - That’s what I need now, the potentiality of death for the fools, who challenge my authority. Now you are free and we won’t discuss it any more but I’ll hint who they are by phone.

   At home he described the incident to Yuriko and she warned him of caution. Either he’ll send to your bed his daughter for a child, or he will try to kill you after the job. Different clans can cooperate but only on such conditions. Otherwise secrets must remain secrets and the only guarantee is death.

  The President’s daughter didn’t appear and he refused to play the dangerous game. In a week the President secretly came to Stavropol by military plane and at night tried to persuade his with a gun. Tumanov   felt it in advance and avoided the duel. The President went back with nothing and Tumanov interpreted the situation in a new fantastic script about SSS.

  After the film went on US TV, all left him alone in fear that he would describe them in the next film but the status of SSS began to decrease and the President decided to change him for someone else. Now it was only a question of time and he had to shift his activity to other spaces, searching for a way out of the trap. But besides poetry and fantasy for the web, all opportunities were closed. After an unsuccessful attempt to appoint instead of Tumanov his favorite, rejected by SSS, the President abolished the organization and Tumanov got for several years into complete isolation.

   The Gubernatorial elections were canceled and all Governors were appointed by the President so his relative was changed for a neutral man. SSS dispersed and everything came to a deadlock. All his money he transferred to the girls, who helped him to earn it, because in Russia it would be only a challenge to criminals and old enemies, who might remember him again. Conditions for business in Russian according even to official data were among the worst in the world.

   The times changed again only with the next President. He knew nothing of SSS and Tumanov, because all the documents were burnt. So Oleg could start rising up from zero. His films were forgotten and he had only scripts, the love and adventure stories, verses and knowledge. He was now free but the situation was unfavorable for success in any field. What could he do? Only fly to space as in his last films.

   And he did.

   Either it was teleportation, or aliens, who liked his films, but he got access to another world, a planet, which he called “Dream”, where he met an alien girl from Vega, who took him to her home and introduced to her world. Then he visited other civilizations, less developed, and described it all in his new stories. He did not surrender and the world turned on.

 

   So his American dream was reproduced in space, where he finally took his family and his girl-friends. The alien beauty from Vega, one girl from Andromeda Nebula’s Ball Galaxy satellite and another from a developing world, similar to Earth, increased the number of his girl-friends to ten. And that was really final, because after assimilation in space he didn’t need any help and he just didn’t notice any longer other beauties he came across. Aliens taught him the art or profession of an intergalaxy pilot and he earned again his living by combat raids and new films, made already for alien TV and Internet. And he found gold and diamond fields in a distant galaxy, from which he brought them to Earth.

 

 

                                            Eyl Noum

 

   Oleg Tumanov didn’t give up American citizenship; he just disappeared from the USA, when caught in Russia. And after his breakthrough to space he could easily return. Why not? Space is interesting but he is an earthling and must have some confortable home on Earth too. The problem was with his official status in Russia. If he just appeared in America, FSS would think he went out illegally and will accuse him of all sins, including spying. So to support his alibi he from time to time appeared in Stavropol and everyone thought he lives there constantly without breaks.

  So for a return to America he had to change his name. And he decided to use his alien nick-name or pseudonym – Eyl Noum. He registered it on Vega and ordered official documents for another civilization in its language according to its standards. He was already a citizen of Vega too and these papers were quite official. The next task was to get on their basis an American passport with another face and all biological data – finger prints etc. After teleportation to space it was not as difficult as it looked for earthlings. No plastics, no rubber masks – just another combination of electromagnetic waves from his face and restructuring of the fingertips skin.

  He didn’t imitate another earthly man, because he already had one American passport and it would be a deceit. He really became another person and wanted to register it on Earth officially. So he leaped in his disk ship to the Bermuda Triangle and transmitted alien music to SSS stations for Nick. They answered with new earthly music and he switched on the screen:

  - Hello, boys! Can I land here and have a rest?

  - Certainly, sir! You are welcome! – answered Nick on the other side and showed him the coordinates of the nearest military base. Eyl Noum (let’s now call him this name for secrecy) landed and asked the hosts for a helicopter to Miami. The pilot delivered him directly to Nick. He explained him that he wants to rent a house in the city and to study the situation and chose his own home. Nick quickly consulted Emily and agreed. Then Eyl Noum handed his papers and asked for a local analog for signing documents and police. Everything was arranged in an hour; he signed the rent contract, paid with gold and moved in. Then he flew with Nick to New-York to meet US authorities and businessmen.

  The new American President loved jokes and games, so he didn’t believe a word. The reason was the date – the 1^st of April, chosen by Eyl Noum for the start of his new earthly life. Other officials thought the spoof was invented by the President and so nobody came.  Eyl Noum wasn’t disappointed. He opened an account in a bank for a brick of gold and a bag of diamonds and went to the Wall Street to search for Kate’ father. Kate accidentally met them in the street and made acquaintance, inviting to her daddy.

   - Mr. Sandy, I have too much money to be ignored but all think today it’s a joke and don’t want to take it.

   - I take money on any day.

   - OK, I want to invest in your business one billion dollars. This is the first dole. – And he showed his bank papers.

   - Really? Ha-ha-ha! It looks funny, may I check up the signatures?

   - Sure.

    The dad went away and returned in a minute pink and polite.

   - I phoned to the bank and it confirmed.

   - Then the joke is finished?

   - Yes, Mr. Noum. I accept it.

   Nick was present too as an assistant and, when they signed all the papers, invited Eyl to his home back in Miami to show him his family. Mr. Sandy winked to his daughter and she offered her company, which Eyl politely accepted too.

 In a day the whole company was entertaining the alien in his home and Nick was sending regular reports to the President, who was irritated by his persistence and threw them to the basket unread. At last his patience burst into pieces and he phoned him back.

  - Mr. McCaskey! Your joke goes too far!

  - It’s not a joke, sir. The UFO is at the base, go there and see it yourself.

  The President threw the phone and sent his secretary to the base to feel the ship with his own hands. When all the invited officials and money bags realized what they missed it was too late. Eyl Noum already flew away to Australia to buy an estate and hide there from the fools and newspapermen, if they would start their hunt. Nick was with him and the hope for extraterrestrial contact wasn’t lost. And he seamed to like Lucy or Kate. So American girls were doing what the American President neglected – saving the national honor and interests in space.

   Olga changed her name to Ira and came the same way as Oleg, but to Stavropol, where her father headed the local FSS. In the same way she got documents and flew to Moscow, where she refused to talk to authorities under the excuse that she is a woman and doesn’t solve any problems like men. She just wanted to find a beautiful place for rest and maybe tourism from her star. From Moscow she flew to the USA, leaving her father in the airport with a phone number for connection if he really needed her.

   She chose this name because Oleg had a fantasy story, where Irina was the space scout’s wife. Fantasy in their life came true and the name should too. When authorities got accustomed to the fact of extraterrestrial presence on Earth and stopped sending them silly questions they met in New-York with the help of other girl-friends and started a new life.

  Art for them was not closed but they couldn’t repeat themselves. Oleg changed his voice and tried singing, writing verses in a different style with more complex rimes, Olga played synthesizer, combining sweet and sore tunes, unusual alien melodies and rhythms. Step by step with the help of music for the films of their friends they rose by the ladder of success again. They released their first album - “Never surrender!” and Eyl Noum sent a copy to the ex-President.

   What else can an alien do in a developing world? He can teach something, solve problems, share scientific ideas, sell space ships or nuclear fusion reactors … - all that flashed in the minds of people, who knew, who Eyl Noum was, but he showed no interest in them and lived his own life. Why did he come here for? The questions were the same as for UFOs. The presence of a concrete reasonable being before their eyes changed nothing. So the problem was general and it should be understood. Although his songs inspired thoughts and feeling, that gradually changed their attitude towards life. He sang about heavenly world, enlightenment, eternity and infinity – spiritual truths that could change personal life and fate, if you took them seriously and tried to apply.

  When they released another disk, Eyl Noum again set it the ex-President and wrote a letter that he knew Oleg Tumanov. He inquired who he is and learnt that he was from space. Then he answered the letter and invited him home. Eyl Noum came and told him that he visited Stavropol and spread Tumanov’s films in space, which was really true, because in other civilizations his films found more understanding and lasting interest.

 Then Eyl Noum described in the Internet the principle of a fusion reactor and flied away from Earth in his star ship.

 

 

                                               Return   

 

   Ira returned to Stavropol, presented General Mihailov with her albums and asked him about Tumanov, the author of fantasy films, she saw on TV. He told her his phone number and address and FSS remembered him again as bait to an alien fan. Ira visited him and they made friends. Then she recorded to his computer documentary films about extraterrestrial civilizations, that they together made when travelled in space, and also left Earth in her ship. Tumanov sold the films in the Internet as science fiction and earned enough money for tickets to America. His American passport was hidden in his house and he could now return back to the country, where he was needed and had friends. Ten years didn’t pass but there were no real secrets about Russian SSS to hide because it didn’t exist long enough to achieve any special results. So no one cared for him and he returned to the USA.

                     Loneliness is a window to eternity

                     For a fisher in a small boat,

                     Dancing on the ocean waves.

   He had no earthly material for new films because during his isolation in Stavropol nothing occurred in his life, only his inner state changed. His adventures in space were already described in the films he made there for alien spectators. For Earth these films were too alien and the actors were all unknown, alien too. That’s why he could release these films on Earth and had to search for something else. He collected all his poetry in Russian and decided to continue his experiments in English. To his own surprise he quickly and easily doubled his Russian collection and wrote a whole collection in English. This was new and realized that he can be not only a film-maker but a real poet too. It was less popular than cinema but more serious and spiritual by its content. Maybe he won’t be published and recognized for years but it will surely stay for ages. So why not write it just for his own delight as he wrote it for many years before?

 It would be a lonely life of a hermit but full of happiness and inner harmony. That’s not bad after all. He was now much older and more inclined to contemplation. Life didn’t require such active struggle as earlier and he could tune to the music of spheres above and beauty around. He won all his fights and now could look deeper into himself.

                       The inner voice prompts the right choice,

                       The sky above shines with eternal love.

 

 

                                        Reality

 

   Tumanov finished typing the eightieth page, switched off the computer and went to bed. His wife Irina was sleeping, but when he lay down awoke. 

   - At last. You’ve completely forgotten me.

   - I’ve finished the book.

   And they started making love. He wrote it much quicker than planned – in a week, because plunged into it fully and the subject was his own life. He interpreted it according to Hollywood standards but the basis remained real. Sure, he was not such a tough ninja and failed to immigrate to America for lack of money, but in his soul he was the man he described. And he wrote in English for American readers, which meant that he really moved to that space, made the same fundamental choice of his direction of life as his hero in the story. Verses both in Russian and in English were real too, as the outcome of his search of better profession, because in the past he was really a space scout and the material for his fantasy was taken from real cosmic space, real extraterrestrial civilizations and real evens. This was his third book about space scout Tumanov - the first in English with his poetry, the second in Russian with publicism, each about one hundred pages, and now again in English, pure prose. It corresponded to the hero’s return to Russia, under the influence of his gens and culture, and then after disappointment – his return to the USA. So it was autobiographical and he left for the man his own name.

  He really studied karate and kung-fu, mastered the school of Drunkard, and replaced ninja sword with a knife, more available in Russian circumstances and effective enough for self-defense. He had real problems with FSS, who tried to recruit him after his elder brother really fled to the West and he after years of yoga practice developed extrasensory perception. He really started by Zen and studied all world religions and the horoscope of Stavropol was really similar to the horoscope of the USA in respect to Pluto, responsible for secret affairs and security services. So he knew very well all he was writing about and that’s why it was so easy and quick. And the end was realistic too, it might require years for him to succeed in America or even the rest of his life but he had no other choice because in Russia he was in a deadlock. He couldn’t publish anything here and earn his living by creativity. New writers were paid miserable fees, not enough for living, and even that after the crisis became impossible. Books didn’t sell because people had no money and time for them thanks to the “economic wonders” of the government. Russia’s population decreased by several millions in the last ten years, people couldn’t even survive and what was the use of books?

  His real ability behind ninja techniques was teleportation of bullets and knives. He could piece an enemy’s heart at distance through multidimensional space without any external trace, which looked like an ordinary infarction. So he was an astral ninja, a space warrior, really effective and ruthless as Japanese, whom re respected and liked. And sex for him as a tantra-yogin was really a matter of energy, when younger he was very popular with girls and only his young and beautiful wife put an end to his love adventures like Olga-Irina in the book. So he took his hero not from other ninja stories or Hollywood hits but from reality itself and, if it was necessary, he could prove it by real actions and deeds.

 

   My sword is always at hand

   And I see through a distant land.

   I will always attentively hark,

   When a demon arises from dark.

   I will cut the evil in root

   And follow on my starry route.

 

   “Jolly Roger” was a fiction but some reality hid behind it too, egotistic corrupted politicians spoiled people’s life not only in Russia. Tumanov stretched his hand to emptiness and took a ninja sword. It was always waiting for him in another dimension and he needn’t be afraid to use it whenever he saw a murderer before him. Narcotics kill too and drugs mafia also earned death. He tuned though space to American Mafiosi and saw a fat man in an armchair. I was Miami and he was their main boss. With one sweep of the sword he sent his read rolling to the floor – let police search for yakudzu. Then he took all money directly from the safe and threw it to the window for passersby, again and again, a snowfall of banknotes from the sky, until it was empty. Switching on his computer, Tumanov entered his secret accounts in several banks and transferred the money back to the people he robbed. He could find everything intuitively and instantly and the whole operation was completed in ten minutes. Then he took from emptiness a gun and started shooting the rest of the criminals, tied to the boss by karma, money and blood. It took more time, because they were numerous but he was in no hurry and didn’t miss anyone.

   He wrote down the events and his daughter Nellie (in reality elder) asked for the computer to watch her fairy cartoons, the son asked it for games. He taught them how to throw a coin to settle the problem and went to the kitchen to have breakfast.

  Was he happy in his distance ninja way of life? Yes, he was. Russians want justice more than money and fame, and he was Russian, though he lived in American dream. He was inspired by Hollywood films about half-fantastic revenge fighters against criminals and made the fantasies true. If anyone was to blame, it was the Dream Factory, flooding the world comics-like heroes, and the American serial books “Destroyer”, i.e. Americans themselves. He as Russian only reflected and returned their style and ideas in his own Eastern way. If Americans write such books and make such films, they must be ready for someone, who takes them seriously and puts into life.

 

 

Oleg Tumanov        A bullet and a chrysanthemum

 

                                    A Russian in New-York      

 

   A bullet can solve a problem, if it hits the right man. Tim Somo, as he called himself in America, knew it for sure. His gun was his best friend and he never left his home without it for his life was a permanent adventure. It is not that he looked for trouble himself but some trouble always looked for him.

  New-York was a strange city; everyone there thought he knows what he is doing, though in reality they knew only what they have done, if it was counted in dollars. The future was only a version and Tim followed his intuition without logic and facts.

                    An autumn leaf in the wind

                    Knows more of his fate

                    Than a wanderer in his drift.

   Tim loved Japanese poetry and sometimes wrote haikus himself like a real samurai before his death, which always hovered around him, but never came. He came to New-York from Tokyo after several years of karate training and was searching for work. He could fight and shoot well but didn’t want to go to police even in the future, when it would be possible, because he preferred to act alone. He might be a bodyguard, if the client was not a criminal or a fool, deserving death. Or just a night guard at some shop as he worked in his youth, when he only started practicing yoga meditation and religious studies. And he recollected his haiku of that period:

                   All nights through

                   A cricket                  

                   Prays to the moon.

   He could write verses but in the business center of the world a haiku sounds strange. How do Japanese earn money in spite of their transcendental culture? He must learn too.

   Could he sell flowers here as he did it in Russia, where he was Timofey Somov? He tried to develop the idea, imagining a talk in a flower shop, and received refusal. They wanted young beautiful girls.

   He watched the world around him and didn’t find any contact with the new life. Sure, he had documents and some money for the start but didn’t know what to choose for the future occupation. As a writer he needed life material; writing out of pure imagination would be empty and dead, but life passed by at distance, alien and seemingly hostile. No one needed him here and as a Russian he was a competitor and a challenge to their own ideas and style. He didn’t want to oppose himself but it occurred involuntarily by the inertia of his previous life. He had to change to adapt and he wanted, but he didn’t know how.  So he hanged along the streets like an autumn leaf in the wind, hardly touching the ground and turning in the whirls. 

   Suddenly his mobile zoomed.

   - Hello, - he answered the call.

   - Is this Mani Padma, the astrologer?

   - Yes, it’s me.

   - I found your site in the web and I want to order you my personal mantra, based on my horoscope.

   - OK, I’ll call you in an hour and record your birth data. I’m now out of home.

   - OK. I’ll wait.

  He saved the phone number and went back to his small room, rented in the outskirts of New-York in an old lady’s house at the lowest price he could find. At home he called back, learnt the data and made the mantra. But money for it didn’t come. So it was just a curiosity. Astrology did not attract attention too; only his Russian acquaintance Alina ordered two horoscopes for her Russian emigrant friend and for her daughter, who had problems with her new woman boss. There were too many local astrologers in America for a newcomer to win the competition. They spent much money on advertising and occupied the whole Internet space. And they were familiar, known from interviews in newspapers and the national astrologers’ organization list. Personal mantras, based on one’s horoscope, were Tim’s own discovery, a revolutionary method unknown to the rest of mantra-yogis, both in India and USA.  But who knew it and understood? Without an advertising campaign success in America was impossible and that cost too much for him to risk all the money he had.

   The hostess entered the room and approached Tim, but suddenly stopped, gulped the air and fell to the floor. He didn’t know the phone numbers of any emergency services and called the neighbor, who called all. She was dead and the doctor said it was her heart. She was ill for many years and now had an infarction.

   Close death reminded Tim of his own insecurity and inability to solve material problems. What ever he did, all was in vain. He have already lived a long life but only started writing seriously for publishing. Before that he wrote only verses just to express his spiritual experience and vision of life, never showing them to anyone around or sending to newspapers and magazines.

  Now besides verses he had some fantasy, adventure and love stories, which he already sent to literary agents. What should he do here next? Just wait for response? No, he was not so optimistic; he should do something else right now.

   He read all newspaper advertisements, inviting guards, and finally chose the most promising. When he phoned, a female voice told him the address and the time for the colloquy. She was about thirty, beautiful, irritated and smoking. Her divorced husband was still jealous and threatened to kill her if she meets another man. She didn’t meet yet but wanted to be free to choose and would pay him well for effective protection and a good lesson to the pursuer. Her house was big enough for another inhabitant and he should live there too.

  - You may call me Jessica, or Jess. And I want you to feel at home.

  - Yes, Jessica, I like you house.

  - Than move in immediately.

  According to Jessica’s plan they began imitating love until her husband saw them dancing in the restaurant and kissing in the street. He followed them to the house to make sure he stayed there for the night and the trap was closed.

  Next morning he was waiting for them at the door with the right hand in his pocket.

  - I’ll kill now you, your man and myself, as I warned you. If you don’t return to me right now.

 And he took out a pistol. Jessica cried and Tim shot. He was taught not to think before a threat and he didn’t. His reflexes made decision instead of him and the opponent collapsed.

  The whole scene was recorded by a security surveillance camera and they had no problems with police.

  - You can’t imagine how I’m exhausted, - she said at night, sitting in the armchair near the fireplace. Don’t leave me now, I need some support. I’ll pay you ten thousands for the job and if you have no place to live, you can stay here as long as you like.

   When he was asleep he saw a dream that they were making love and when he awoke he saw her in his bed. So they did it in reality too.

 

                                               A nephew

 

   So his philosophy about a right bullet was proved again, as many times before, and he found himself not as alien in this new world as when he came. He asked Jessica of some recommendation for him as a bodyguard to her friends and acquaintances and after a minute’s hesitation she called her nephew Becky.

 - Hello, darling!

 - Hi, Jess!  How are you? I’ve heard about the incident, he nearly killed you. Should I come to see you?

 - Yes, dear. I need your help.

   When Becky entered the room, she cast a glance to Tim and went to embrace and kiss Jessica.

 - Let me introduce you. This is my savior Tim. And he needs some job of a guard because for me it is done.

 She looked twenty, he looked forty, very adult and serious, so she didn’t dare to flirt, though got interested in him at once. He never flirted at all, but the girl was too beautiful to be completely ignored and he kept the polite conversation going.

  She promised to ask her friends and after an hour of chat said she was still busy in her art studio and had to go. At the door Jessica whispered to her ear:

   - Only don’t fall in love with him. He is my. 

   In the evening Becky called and suggested to meet her boss, who could hire him as a night guard for the studio, where they kept, exhibited and sold their paintings. He accepted the invitation and the job without negotiations, because he didn’t like uncertainty and liked the girl. That work meant their regular contacts and he wouldn’t miss it, because he was not yet in love with any one and his heart was free.

  He came to the official closing of the studio but Becky always worked longer, paying no attention either to the clock, or to him. Her painting was alive with yellow, pink and blue and the theme was a sunrise on the sea shore.

  - Why don’t you go to the nature? – Tim asked her, when she relaxed for a minute and noticed his presence.

  - I’m not a naturalist, reality restricts imagination. I want to show my world and not what everyone can see without me.

  - Your world is warm and you look cold.

- What’s why I paint - I can’t express myself with words. By the way are you in love with my auntie?

- No, why do you think so?

- She said you are her man.

- Oh, really? Perhaps, she is right, but that’s her decision. I took no initiative and just followed her wishes.

- I see. She always takes the best, when she finds it, and never asks the other side. That’s the cause of the mistake with her husband, he was rich and she just lured him and then got tired, but he already couldn’t change his mind and let her go. He was really a terrible man and deserved his end, but she could avoid it, if she married by love. I wonder what she found in you.

 - Perhaps, it was a reaction to the stress, she just wanted to relax.

 - Maybe. But she told me not to fall in love with you. It means that you deserve it and that she is attached to you more than you think.

 - I don’t think about it. I just don’t resist.

 - Were you married?

 - Yes. She left me because I didn’t earn much and was too busy with my spiritual problems.

 - Do you have children?

 - Two sons, it’s far away in Russia and in the past. They don’t want to know me and they think I’m a bad father, because they chose her views on life. So I’m alone and free.

 - You’ll become free, when Jessica lets you go. Now you can’t offend her, because she was so unlucky and alone with her husband that now she takes a revenge on life.

 - And do you have a boy-friend?

 - I had, but he was too simple and practical, he didn’t understand my wishes and just wanted a family with children and a kitchen. But I’m not a servant, I want to achieve something in art and it takes your soul and time. The Muse didn’t want to share me with him and I had to ask him to go away.

  - Are you lonely?

  - No, I sublime my sexual drives in creativity and I’m OK.

  - I usually sublime them in martial arts so I’m not tied to sex and your aunt. And I think we may become friends.

   - I don’t believe in friendship of opposite sexes. Sooner or later it ends in bed. I prefer not to waste time and not to deceive myself. And you don’t deceive yourself too, if you want to sleep with me, say it directly, I won’t quarrel with you for such trifles. It’s natural, men always want sex, no matter how sublimated they are.

   He laughed and looked directly into her eyes:

  - Maybe, you inspire them with your beauty? They don’t want sex with any one.

  - I’m not sexy. I live in emotions and imagination more than in reality. So I don’t provoke them. They all want a beautiful toy, but if they get it in some time they throw it away. And I’m not so eager to turn into rubbish.

  - How long do you think your aunt will care for me?

  - Oh, it may last for several months, if you don’t find someone else. Do you want me to help you?

  - How?

  - I’ve got an idea, - she smiled enigmatically. – Do you object to watching here in the studio a nude? I’ve finished this picture and I may choose her for the next theme.

  He laughed again.

 - You want to seduce me by some model to get rid of your aunt?

 - Yes, she would be very beautiful, if you agree to the game.

 - OK, it’s your business; I don’t interfere in your choices.

 - Let’s make a bet. If I seduce you by the nude, you’ll fulfill any my desire.

 - But if you’ll ask me to jump to the abyss?

 - I’m not going to kill you because I like you and I want to keep your company. The worst thing could be to ask you to marry me, but perhaps I won’t. Maybe, ’m too proud to win a man by a bet and I’ll choose my husband some other way, more romantic and natural.

 - And if you don’t seduce me?

 - You’ll waste your time on my aunty maybe for a year. And that will be only your problem, not mine. And I will fulfill one your wish.

 - OK, the bet is accepted.

  And they shook their hands. The touch was so pleasant that they held them longer than necessary and smiled, feeling a strange tie, growing between their souls, but didn’t show it, because their time hasn’t yet come.

   The nude’s name was Nancy. She was perfect and sure of herself, not a bit ashamed of the man. She even winked him as if she knew about the bet. Becky on some excuse invited Jessica to the studio to show how they work. The auntie was taken aback and confused. She sat in the corner for half an hour and, when Becky hinted that she might go, fled. At home she invited Tim to the fireplace and began diplomatic talks.

  - I know Becky and I understand that her nude is a challenge to me. That’s why she invited me. And I think she wants you. 

  - Why?

  - If I become jealous, I’ll send you away and she picks you up. She has a flat of her own and you can move there to live.

  - I can rent a room, if I need. I earn enough.

  - I foresaw it at the beginning but didn’t believe my intuition. She has fallen in love with you and can now do such silly things that at any other time she would laugh at it. And I’m not going to break her heart, because she is my nephew and she is so young. I won’t sleep with you any more; you can tell her that you are free. 

  - You love her?

  - Yes, more than you. Men come and go, but relatives stay.

  - OK, I’ll tell her about your reaction and see what she says. 

  Becky said nothing; she only smiled and continued painting the nude, when she came. After the séance they drank tea with sweets and talked about everything else but the bet. Finally, Tim asked:

  - So who lost the game?

  - Me. You won’t sleep with her now, because you hope to sleep with me and I may be jealous too.

  - Really? Than what’s your decision?

  - I spoiled you relations with Jessica and now I must offer you a room at my flat. But it’s not sex. So it’s a standoff, no one won and the game goes on, if you are not afraid to live with a beautiful girl.

  - Why should I be afraid?

  - You may fall in love and be in pain.

  - And what about you? You are not afraid of the same thing?

  - I’ve invited you; it means that I’m not.

  - OK, I move to my room tomorrow.

  - Don’t forget to take my address and the key. I’ll be in the studio.

      After two weeks of peaceful coexistence in one flat Becky was reassured that Tim was not as sexually-minded as she thought. He did not try to flirt with her, did not try to get into her bed at night, though it was so easy because she didn’t lock the door to her room and was ready to meet him with a scream. He did nothing and she was at once calmed down and disappointed. Contradictory feelings displayed themselves in her teasing jokes at breakfast, when they met at the table, but he only smiled. At last she raised the question directly.

  - I’m glad you don’t chase me but I understand that you are an adult man and need sex. So if you want it, you can bring a girl to your room. Say, Nancy. By the way she liked you and wouldn’t mind a romantic meeting. After the session in the studio you could invite her.

  - What can be romantic in our meeting after I saw her nude?

  - That’s the problem. Men see women nude only when they sleep with them. Your relations are contradictory and she wants to settle it.

  - If you are so worried about my sex, why not settle it between us?

  - I waited when you try it.

  - To say “no”?

  - I didn’t say anything so far. May I think?

  - You use Nancy to allure me, so why not say frankly, what you want yourself?

  - I’m a spinster. Do you know that I‘m already twenty five? 

  - If I make love with Nancy you’ll imagine I do it with you?

  - No. I just want you to be satisfied with life.

  - You are lying to me or to yourself. But I know what to do.  Imagine I’m a painter and you are a sitter. Just undress and pose. I’ll take a mental picture of you; it’s not sexuality but art.

  - Really? It’s an interesting idea. I never thought of it. But it attracts me. Close your eyes.

  In a minute she allowed to open them and he saw her completely nude. Then she closed her eyes and he understood that she is ready. So he came closer, kissed and embraced her tightly to break her barriers and she relaxed. He carried her on his hands to the sofa and became her man.

 

 

 

                                              A killer

 

   Everything was perfect but life can’t be so serene. There is always some problem ahead and happiness never lasts long. This time it was Nancy’s death.

   She was killed nude in the studio, posing for Becky, by a bullet that came through the window from a sniper. Police found nobody and soon another model was killed in the same way. She also posed nude to a photographer and the bullet found her in her own home after the photo was published in a magazine. Two similar cases prompted explanation – the killer had sexual problems and got satisfaction as a sadist, destroying the object of his unrealized desires.

   Tim didn’t study psychoanalysis but he understood the cause and decided to catch the killer by bait. They exhibited nude Nancy in the studio hall and started to wait. It was irrational but there was a chance that he would come to see her again as he saw her in the optical riflescope, or even to destroy it or to steel, or would betray his complexes in some other way. Above the painting he masked a hidden camera to watch the faces of all visitors and to analyze their expressions.

  Attracted by a newspaper announcement, people passed quietly by, showing only curiosity. But one man stopped a little bit longer and slightly grinned. Tim decided to follow him and to find out where he lives. It was a small old private house in the suburb. He recorded the address and phoned with his suspicions to the detective, Dale Crimson, who in five minutes called him back and confirmed that the visitor was in the police database for a similar crime in the past.

  Police checked him up and he had alibi, supported by his friend, a former criminal too. They left him free, but Tim Somo didn’t believe it and established surveillance with other two studio guards in turn. At night the guard awoke him up by telephone, saying that the suspected subject left home with something resembling a rifle in a cover and went in his car to the center. Tim intercepted him five minutes before he stopped and went out of the car with the cover. At the corner the man took out a rifle and looking ahead began to wait for someone. The streets were empty but in fifteen minutes a car appeared at distance, approached and halted at the opposite side of the road. A girl went out and the man targeted his rifle to her. But Somo’s bullet was the first and the killer fell to the ground. They called police and went to the girl to ask her some questions. When she saw the dead man with a rifle she confirmed that she was a porn star. So the case was closed and described in newspapers. All frightened sex models relaxed and as a present to Tim made a collective photo with him, though in dress, for a magazine.

   Thus Timothy Somo became famous and got many new friends. A reporter visited him for a long interview; police offered him work, if he becomes a citizen (say, in three years after marriage) and the models invited as a bodyguard. All promised to pay more and he decided to use his chance because he was already going to marry Rebecca and married life required more expenses and higher status, if she would consent.  Her parents might not like a night guard as a husband for their talented daughter and he in spite of his habits chose for the future police.

  In a month Tim and Becky got married; they had no prejudices against the models, appearing nude in magazines, and invited them to the wedding. After the party Becky suggested them to make a series of nude paintings and they agreed.

  - Beauty and sex are better than homicide, - supported the idea Tim. – If people need it, why not? Let them tune to it, find a channel for discharging their excessive energy and relax.

    Three years passed as three months. In police after examination he was enlisted to the homicide department to… Продолжение »