Beginning

"How many years have passed? Thousands? Millions? Are those planets still alive, or have they long been consumed by black emptiness? Perhaps the universe has closed up, turned into nothingness. There is neither existence nor non-existence now... Maybe even the very absence is no longer there. Everything has disappeared — there are no memories, no emotions, no stories, no people.

Do you remember how people rejoiced in the streets after the fall of the Berlin Wall? And how they burned the streets of Los Angeles in 1992? How in 1969, when a human first set foot on the Moon, believing that humanity would conquer space? Well, space conquered us. And probably, no one has walked the dusty paths on the Moon for a long time, if it even still exists.

How people panicked when social networks crashed for several hours? And how they went insane thinking they had lost their likes and followers forever? Funny, right? Now there's nothing left — neither your posts, nor likes, nor stupid selfies in the mirror.

Protests and repressions that shook the streets of many countries left nothing but ashes and bitterness. Deep wounds that seemed to have healed reopened, as if history knows no rest, eternally shaken by the stupidity of human nature. All those slogans, tears, and blood — it seems they dissolved in the air, becoming part of the eternal dust. Inescapable cosmic agony.

Political intrigues leave no chance for peace, while pandemics and epidemics return like annoying mosquitoes. Social protests flare up everywhere, but they are merely dim embers against the backdrop of encroaching darkness. How many people have died over these years? The deceased, like stars that once shone, are now long buried under the rubble.

Everything has vanished: your favorite shows, memes, evenings when you scrolled through the feed alone, trying not to think about how life was passing you by. Even your empty promises to "start a new life on Monday" have disappeared, just like that Monday itself. And there will be no new beginning. We have all vanished.

The luminaries of science who naively thought they could save humanity by conducting experiments with genetic material to create the perfect being that could never survive in our world. Maybe it died laughing at its creators? And the couples who dreamed of a life filled with happiness and children ended up shattered, like crystal dreams, when one of them simply didn't return from work — he was hit by a drunk driver.

Celebrities, once shining on screens, became shadows of themselves, leaving only eerie memories of shameful attempts to remain in the public's mind. Perhaps some of them are now giving autographs to ghosts in dark alleys. Even the homeless, settled on the streets, found the strength to explode from another dose, trying to forget that the world once existed at all. And the suicidals? From naive children doomed to loneliness to teenagers desperately seeking a shred of understanding, from office clerks locked in gray monotony to lonely mothers who seemed ready to do anything for their children. They found themselves on the edge, ready to break the silence of their lives, as if a jump off a cliff could be salvation rather than an end. No one remembers them anymore. But perhaps it is they who found the key to this mad existence when they decided simply to exit the game, ultimately placing a fat period at the end.

All this resembled a sinister comedy, where all roles were long assigned. We have undoubtedly become characters, the laughter of our own tragedies. Each of us is a small piece of forgotten stories that will never be told, stories of lives that have vanished in the labyrinths of our own abyss. In the end, the world found itself in a vacuum full of irony, like an unfinished novel that no one will read.

Stories changed one after another: Red revolutions, world wars, the end of the world promised in every millennium... And then in 2045, everyone thought there would be machines with artificial intelligence and happy families, and here... machines were there, but families — not really. By the way, about artificial intelligence — it did help. Although mostly in killing us better and calculating pornography.

Nature also did not stay aside. Hurricanes ripped entire trees from their roots, sweeping cities and dreams off the face of the earth, as if the Earth itself had decided to stage its own revolt. Earthquakes shook millions, turning homes into piles of stones, and hopes into dust. Forest fires consumed everything in their path, leaving only ashes and charred memories of what once was. And each flood provoked a storm of emotions — from fear to indifference, as lives and dreams were swept away in the whirlpools of the elements. Each of these disasters was a grim symphony reminding us that we are merely fragile beings on this planet, playing its harsh game with us. Perhaps nature decided it was time to remind us of our insignificance, forcing us to confront our own fears and lives that, like everything else, can disappear in an instant.

Unless something terrible happens — for example, you get abducted along with a loved one, torn apart like a doll stripped of meaning. Or someone else is sent into sexual slavery by her own husband, left to rot in a dark basement, surrounded by dirt and silence, isolated from sunlight and human kindness.

And now, hundreds of years later, when all holidays have disappeared — from Christmas to wild orgies during Maslenitsa — there is not even that human urge to celebrate or to die. No Victory parades, no Olympics — who needs to win in sports when everyone is extinct? And the internet... damn the internet, that disappeared too. It was probably the first to be sucked into a black hole, right after all those cats and memes about how "life is meaningless." Turns out they were right?

And yet, someone is reading this now. Perhaps it's just the remnants of algorithms stuck in a time loop that once picked the best discounts for Black Friday, leaving only emptiness instead of human contact. Or maybe Mark Zuckerberg himself has resurrected and is conducting yet another experiment on consciousness preservation? Although it's more likely just another fanfic, lost in the shadows of the network, like a cry for help that no one can hear. Funny, of course. A story about a world that was... and that disappeared.

Teachers who inspired generations will evaporate. Artists who created brilliant canvases will vanish, as if their brushes never touched a canvas. What to say about mothers who defended their children with their bodies, or about the suicidals who, in a moment of despair, jumped from bridges to escape the pain. Or about all those who fought for love, dreams, meaning, only to see their efforts cut short by a stray bullet or the paralyzing indifference of the Universe.

And this fragility of life — is not just an absurd mockery but a mockery of nature itself. All those small episodes of human life, majestic and banal, are burned in the flames of time, and no one will say, "Hey, you mattered." Even at this moment, someone somewhere is dying in solitude, unable to grasp their own importance because the surrounding world is too engulfed in its own chaos.

What's worse? We will never know what could have been. We will never truly feel all those wonders that are happening somewhere right now. Those very wonders that slip past us as we tear ourselves between work, fear of the future, and emptiness. Oh, what delights we miss! Like someone sitting alone in their room, desperately trying to create something eternal, not knowing that their creation will vanish along with them. And something dark inside whispers: "What do they care?" After all, you would be too busy to even notice if something truly great stood right before you.

And here's what's cruel: the realization that I, a pathetic spectator, will never even get to see what will happen in twenty years, in fifty, in two hundred. When technology rises to an unreachable height for us, when people will have new dreams, fears, goals — you will already be dust in long-forgotten archives, or a fragment of a decaying fantasy, forever stuck in the yellow ancient skull of its creator. I am afraid to even imagine how hurtful it is to realize that one day you will become part of nothing. Not the "nothing" that philosophers extol as something profound and infinite, but true complete non-existence. The very "nothing" that leaves no trace of "absence." Imagine: no void, no vacuum, no space. Even the very "nothing" dies, dissolving into some even more silent and detached state.

When you try to comprehend this, your head spins. It's not just the fear of death; it's the fear of the disappearance of the very possibility of being. It's not even emptiness, because emptiness implies space where nothing exists. But imagine the absence of even space. No time, no place, no you, no me. Only... nothing.

The world we live in often resembles a mad theater of the absurd, where each of us plays our role in this tragicomedy. I ponder how easily we forget that behind every evil, every act of cruelty, there is something more — fear. The fear of loss, the fear of loneliness, the fear of becoming useless or unwanted. This fear drives us to actions we might never take in a state of calm. I think of those who suffer in silence, those whose stories go unnoticed. Each of us carries our burden, our demons, invisible on the surface. We go through life hiding our feelings behind masks, and sometimes I wonder: how many of us truly understand each other? How many of us can see the true suffering of others and respond to it with compassion?"

End of first half of introduction

"Well, let's be honest: life itself is one big kaleidoscope of madness and paradoxes. Isn't it funny how we, as humans, try to impose meaning on the chaos that surrounds us? How many times have we gazed at the stars, thinking that among those celestial bodies lie answers to eternal questions, when in reality, we are just riding on a planet covered in ash and oblivion?

We turn every disaster, every tragedy into some strange joke, as if existence is not a tragedy but an endless comedy, where the script is written on the fly, and the actors are ignorant fools who have no idea they are performing in a play with dwindling audience interest. We hide behind an ironic smile when reality strips us of our masks, exposing all our fears and weaknesses. And, of course, all those misfortunes raining down on the innocent serve only as a backdrop for our endless struggle with ourselves.

So don't worry if your thoughts are all tangled up like yarn with a cat. This is merely a result of our minds trying to cope with the rich palette of emotions and events that seem to have neither beginning nor end. We live in a world where each of your experiences can turn into an irony of fate, and the darker it gets, the brighter the spark—otherwise, how would we know that we are still capable of laughing at this horror?"

Justifying the first half of the introduction

"In a world where we seem to constantly be on the edge of an abyss, these reflections are not only self-reflection but also an attempt to make our experience more meaningful. Paradoxically, it is through the lens of madness and tragedy that we can find the spark of humanity — that very spark that can ignite the fire of hope and understanding. I do not aim to move you deeply, nor do I seek to evoke pity or protest. I merely want to remind you that each life, each story is a mosaic of joy and pain, of love and hate. By immersing ourselves in this grim reality, we witness not only tragedies but also, perhaps, those moments when humanity prevails, even if they seem rare.

So, dear readers, if you are wondering why I decided to start with this dark and existential introduction, filled with chaos and all sorts of suffering, let me explain. As practice shows, in our world, everything is perceived with a habitual apathy, as if we are watching a disaster through a glass window from somewhere far away — interesting, but not alarming.

People seem to be becoming increasingly isolated at the level of awareness from the suffering happening around them each year. Each of us faces our own struggles: daily worries, rising taxes, chronic illnesses, bullying, and the inner demons that may haunt us in silence. And when it comes to global tragedies — poverty, wars, ecological disasters — they are perceived as a distant background onto which vibrant posts on social media are superimposed. We, like onlookers at our own funerals, comment on how it is both funny and sad, and we continue to move on as if nothing has happened. It is horrifying to realize that the world is full of pain, and each of us, be it human or nature, carries our unique scars. Yet, the feeling of powerlessness in the face of global tragedy only intensifies our inner pain, as saving everyone and helping each individual is impossible.

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This hopelessness sometimes weighs down, leaving only a sense of helplessness when you know that even the smallest good intention can get lost in an ocean of suffering. In this constant noise, the suffering of individuals is drowned out in a collective chorus where each story remains untold and every experience unheard.

I decided that if we cannot change our attitude towards what is happening, at least we can add a bit of theater. Grim events and existential reflections are merely a way to shake the audience, forcing them to ponder how we have all grown accustomed to suffering and pain. Perhaps these lines will remind you that life is full of irony and absurdity, not just gray routine. Maybe it is such existential reflections that will help us realize that we all live in a world that often looks like a painting made with closed eyes.

In the end, life is not only our personal tragedies but also collective madness. We all exist in this unbridled circus where absurdity becomes the norm and suffering the background noise. The madness of modernity reaches new heights: children film videos of live kittens being cooked in a microwave as if it is merely entertainment unrelated to reality. Or someone, laughing, claims that refugees are just "diversity" for society, as if they are no more than decorative elements. So why not start with darkness and diversity of thought? Perhaps this will finally allow us to ask the question: are we truly ready to live, not just exist in this pathetic theater of illusions?

As long as this existence continues, as long as it hasn't dissolved into darkness forever.

This preface is not just a cry of despair. It is a cry that calls us to pay attention to the chaos surrounding us and, perhaps, to find something meaningful within it. We are not just random existences; we are carriers of stories that, even in their brutality, can show us light, even in the darkest hours. We must remember that we are not only spectators but also participants in this unimaginable drama, and each of us can contribute to its unfolding.

So, even if these words may seem grim, remember that in every darkness, there is light, and in every absurdity, there is logic. This preface is not meant to shock but to awaken thoughts, raise questions, and make us ponder what it means to be human in this complex and often cruel world."

The second half of the preface

"Let me tell you this to start with. This novel — a whole universe, a cosmos that once received the name "Appair," perhaps accidentally, in some 2020 or somewhere deep within the still-unrotted coffin of my creator's mind, who is also the author of this novel. This is not a story about any specific characters or heroes; it's a boundless world where every life, every event, every anomaly and phenomenon matters. Here, any suffering, disaster, joy, achievement, or even the most insignificant occurrence — is a reason to look at everything from many angles, differing in mood, idea, intention, or, conversely, in the absolute absence of any genre order. Although the characters who become the central figures in this unpredictably moving spectacle do exist, they are currently inconspicuous. Too weak, too insignificant to reveal their true essence to you. For now, they are merely shadows in the background, pale silhouettes in the midst of this chaos, hardly distinguishable from the world in which they inhabit.

They are not ready yet. Their time has not come, but it will inevitably arrive — when they will be forced to cast aside their insignificance and step into the spotlight. And then, when you see them as they truly are, perhaps you will understand that this is not just a tale about some people, beings, or events. It is a reflection of something greater, something you may have felt always but could not express in words.

Appair is also an experiment, aimed at embodying absolutely everything that is possible: reality, fantasy, forgotten dreams, and trampled aspirations, rare joy, genuine happiness, and pleasure in all its manifestations. It is a multistructural universe of infinite length, like a continuous process that evolves alongside this sick, strange, wonderful reality. It is a world that is constantly changing and growing, like a memory you almost lost, but suddenly it returns — only now it is darker and stranger than you ever could have imagined.

Here, there is room for pure love, for the most unexpected expressions of happiness, for betrayals that knock you off your feet like a cold wind in your back. Here, cruelty can erupt, completely senseless — like a sudden bout of madness from a lunatic in the town square, where his mad antics become mere spectacle for the crowd. And the courts of public opinion will turn into a deep social pit, where condemnation, threats, and disdain mix with cold indifference. No one will ever attempt to understand his feelings or preferences, for that does not matter in a world that rejects anyone who does not fit its norms. In this world, there will be space for refined pleasures and twisted torments, for terrifying questions and simple sentiments, which at one moment can be snatched away by the bloodthirsty claws of a hungry, sophisticated reality.

This is a world that may seem mad, unafraid to expose the darkest and dirtiest sides of existence, yet can also grant bright moments of pure ecstasy or quiet happiness. And you know what? When you immerse yourself in this world, when you step into Appair, you will no longer emerge unchanged. Or you may not emerge at all. Because this is not just a novel. This is not just a story. This is a universe where every idea, every whisper of thoughts, every memory takes on flesh and blood. Even if there is already blood spilling over the edges."

The third half of the preface

"In this novel, you will encounter fantasy, but with a multitude of peculiarities. It is a world where fantasy intertwines with elements of anachronisms, complex technogenic and bio-engineering technologies that recreate a kaleidoscope of reality, merging ancient traditions with the aesthetics of classics, peaceful modernity, and futurism enveloped in magic. Here, political complexities and piercing gazes of the Aeons, extraordinary gods and demons lurking in the shadows, form a multi-layered symphony of madness and wonders.

First of all, the author tries to adhere to a certain narrative structure, but alas, he struggles to immerse you in the world, as events unfold on an infinite scale. Imagine this: you are naked, hungry, and do not remember who you are, finding yourself in the most populated corner of the planet — at a party thrown by a wealthy oligarch, where everyone around treats you to delicacies, sometimes even beats you, and all you can do is hope for a miracle.

Let me warn you about the grammatical component. It is rather unpleasant up until the eighth chapter. But starting from the tenth chapter, things will become more friendly for your vulnerable, delicate eyes, as the author employs tools to correct errors and improve the text. Perhaps in the near future, he will take the effort to enhance all the previous chapters, starting with the first one. After all, my master writes alone, fueled solely by enthusiasm and a piece of bread with melted cheese, so his ambitions are — if anything — modest, ha.

As for the progress of the world-building: considering the complexity and multi-layered nature, which varies due to the peculiarities of the beings inhabiting the world, I would rate it on a 500% scale. And it is about... 11% filled. A few percentage points are dedicated to the foundations of a unique magical substance that is part of this universe, its mechanics in everyday life, battles, and other research practices. Other percentage points cover mythology, mysticism, gods, Eons, and other entities on a higher level of influence. This also includes geography, territorial boundaries, and significant historical events.

Ironically, starting around the tenth chapter, the narrative begins to take on a more or less coherent form. It focuses on a strange unnamed man who gradually becomes acquainted with the world, its delights, horrors, and deeply hidden mysteries. You see, my master is a person with boundless imagination but absolutely no talent for writing. Moreover, he is constantly weighed down by apathy, moral exhaustion, and other melancholic nonsense, from which I would certainly like to escape, but alas, I cannot. The first chapter was written back in the recent 2019. And only six months ago, he was suddenly revived in a rather inhuman way — he churned out another nine chapters, up to writing this new preface."

Conclusion

"Well, what can I say... Welcome to this novel where everything is dictated by that fateful 'will of the author.' Here, you can expect a lot: you read — and nothing happens, and then suddenly a meteorite falls on you. No, not some rock from space — it's a ball made of your own unfulfilled desires. It rolls towards you with a thud, accumulating every missed chance, every unsaid phrase, every squandered moment of happiness. When it finally knocks you off your feet and your consciousness fades, a voice will emerge from the darkness: 'Did you really think the worst thing in life is to suffer? No, the worst thing is not even to understand how your own thoughts crushed you.

Imagine that the world of this novel is a kind of game where everything always works against you. You try to survive using logic, but the system is rigged so that every correct decision you make leads to the worst possible outcome. If you decide to help a poor person, you will be accused of conspiracy. If you save someone's life, you will be forced to take it back to restore balance. And the biggest plot twist? It's when you realize that, in real life, things work out pretty much the same way. Here, at least, you have a chance: at any moment, you can close the book and say, 'No, I pass.' But as experience shows, you will still return because... well, where else will you find a universe that so consistently and subtly humiliates you?

This novel is like a social experiment with elements of torture. Whatever you do will still lead you to an inglorious end. And you know what's the funniest part? Even if you try to do nothing, that will turn out to be your worst decision. In this world, just being passive is already a crime, punishable by slowly sinking into an endless vortex of your own fears, regrets, and disgusting fantasies. No, you won't die — that's too easy. You will exist, knowing that every indecisive action you take will open up a new spiral of hopelessness. And you know what? You can get used to it, but only if you aren't bothered by the fact that your consciousness is merely a playground for experiments, where the main entertainment is watching yourself betray yourself.

And here you are reading this book, trying to cling to the plot, to the symbols, to the meaning — but the secret is that the plot revolves around you. You are the character playing the reader, who the author constantly tests. How do you like that? You are constantly pulled by invisible strings: every thought, every action — is a choice that only seems to be yours. Just like in life, right? Only here it's clear that you are a pawn in someone else's twisted fantasy, while in reality, you have to pretend you have free will. So relax, at least my master has an ending. Right? There is?

Okay, let's be honest: in this world, everything works on the principle of 'he who hesitates is born in vain.' No, seriously, every time you refuse to take some action or make a decision, someone else immediately takes your place. A second of hesitation — and there's another 'you' sitting in your chair, having done everything better, smarter, and faster. And if you start to resist, your new version will stand behind you, breathing down your neck, reminding you that there is always someone who can be a better version of you. Imagine knowing that there exists an ideal version of you that you will never become. Fun, right?

Imagine this: you are not you, but merely a biological machine with a foolish belief that your opinion matters. You are just a collection of flesh, bones, and chemical reactions that accidentally turned into something capable of being disappointed in life. And all your aspirations? They are just a coding error launched into action for the universe to have a good laugh. Don't be surprised if at the end of this absurd journey, the only thing you did right was being not too smart to understand all this earlier.

My mother once told me, you know... how does it go... Ah, right!

Life is like a party you're never invited to, but you're forced to attend. Everyone laughs, eats, has fun, while you stand at the door, drooling over the sandwiches and listening to music you don’t understand. And the worst part: when you finally decide you're ready to jump onto the dance floor, it turns out it was a memorial service all along, and the dancing was preparation for your funeral. Don’t worry, they've already ordered a cake in your honor — let’s just hope it’s at least your favorite flavor.

Farewell

"Well, if you've made it this far, congratulations—you've endured this hell with me. Now we both share one thing in common: we've both wasted time that could have been spent on something more meaningful. But that's okay; you still have a whole life ahead of you filled with futile attempts to find meaning where there was never any. At this point, I just have to leave, just when you start to doubt your own sanity.

So, it's time to say goodbye. Let this be your last reminder that life is like sitting in traffic on a deserted road: no one around, yet you still feel like someone is watching. So hang on tight, because your journey is just beginning, and I'll take a little break to figure out why I even exist at all. I hope you remember this moment like an appointment with a therapist—time slips away, along with the hope for salvation. So, the next time you feel as lost as I do in this text, just remember: there are no bad decisions in the universe, only different levels of absurdity.

Good luck, and I'll go off in search of my lost life... perhaps at a bar with a stiff drink and a stray cat."

THE END

"P.S. And if you suddenly decide that all of this was too dark, remember that fun is just a mask for fear. So don't forget to wear it when you face reality again. And remember, sometimes it's better to laugh than to cry... especially if no one is watching."

Fairy~ (Yes, the one who lost her magic wand in a bar)

🖼️ DeviantArt. Supplements to the novel. Illustrations, concepts.

🎧 SoundCloud. Music from Appair.