Chapter 44

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What do you call a man who, at six in the morning, decides to shovel snow off the pavement with an axe welded to a pipe?

And it's not a Tajik migrant, of which there were many in my childhood, although I'm sure he has limited or even social citizenship. He lives here in our city and understands that people are sleeping but knocks anyway.

"Comp, wake up!"

The music played on the edge of audibility, escorting me from the room to the kitchen, then a little stronger in the bathroom, changing to upbeat rhythms as I began my breathing exercises. The air conditioner, which had been ruined yesterday in a creative rush, was sadly silent. That's all right. Today everything will be solved!

While I was shaving, I thought about today's plan.

Review the downloaded paladin counseling. Need to check if I've done all the available ones.

By ten, trip to the workshop where they build my odor module; the tester showed that the software, converted from the standard one by an acquaintance for my purposes, basically works fine, and they called back yesterday and said it wouldn't stink again. And that's a good thing.

Then to the district Tax Office and straight to registration. The threshold of payback I specified is seven hundred grand, then I will have to register on the Creators' website, so I will have to register. At the tax office, I figure it'll take half an hour, so I'll spend three. Or four. Victor's father used to say that in his youth, people would stand in queues for twenty-four hours. Brrr, the Dark Ages!

So I'll be free at three. Is that it? No, at four.

"Comp, checking email."

Links, more links, advertisements, price lists, and two recent issues of regulations. Oh! I downloaded the documents into my glasses. That's something to do in my spare time. On second thought, I also downloaded the questions on paladins. There are all kinds of cases.

I'm home by four, picking up an order from the shop on the way, marking two hours for a performance check. Then an hour to test the mod... what do you call it? "Stinky"? "Skunk-Megapro? That was the only way to call the first model. Now it's going to be "Lily of the Valley" - it already smells nice, but it's still a headache. That's a subtle hint.

At five, into the game. It's a very interesting scheme that appeared I need to get through the level and a half, to the fortieth, and get my own "Divine Touch". Because the two standard scripted quests I've sort of completed, and the two ahead - "The Apostate" is waiting for me at the Great Hill, and "Discovery New" along with an unknown location "The Valley of the Fallen" suggests that this chance will not slow to appear, I'll try. I wonder what the reward will be. A new class? I'd like to, but I don't think so. Heroic classes appear after the hundredth level, so it's likely to be an artifact with a binding. Also not the most common thing. It is worth floundering. Or just rash reputation and free points? They might, for now, the game is full of surprises... and so are the players.

So I'm in the game until ten o'clock tonight. Should make it to the thirty-ninth.

Called up a menu from the COD website, sent the application for the group, and dropped it off with the 'Familiar Players' mark. This would be quicker than searching on my own. I'm already a big paladin. I'm alone in the dungeons now, unprofitable. So a level and a half I'll make up in the group, thanks to the acquaintances, that is, who have opened their names to me, already over two hundred.

While eating my morning oatmeal, I thought about the speed of my game. I'm way ahead of schedule, and way ahead. I thought I'd get an extra skill at level seventy, but I got it at level thirty-five. I gained twice as much faith as I thought I would. All of my skills, except Exile, were at rank two. Reputation - as in the old roleplayer, busy only playing a role with NPCs. Plus, this thing with the quests ... So at the fortieth, I'll get the title of "Paladin of the Temple"! Maybe I should go beyond the pass. In terms of combat capabilities I'm already almost to level sixtieth ... even ahead in some ways. Beyond the pass - go to the underground cities, where almost all the evil creatures and paladins with priests are always needed. No temples there, though, the cities were built in the Age of Darkness by various aliens, but I can make my own temple.

By the way, what about the "Temple of All Gods" idea? Is it worth considering? Or go to the coast, to the Capital and the Main Temple? Well, I'd better find out where Amala's homeland is and go there, just as a pilgrim. I bet that would be a bonus to paladinage! And, since my thinking is so effective, I should check the fanfics: what about the temples and the blue and white banners? A collective superintelligence might suggest some pretty crazy ideas.

Well, here's the plan.

"Comp, organizer"

My glasses purred, my tablet and mobile phone trilled, my laptop beeped, and only the home computer was silent as usual.

After spending half an hour searching, I raked up a bunch of texts with stories "about paladins", and hastily browsed through them. Somewhere the authors researched the world of the game in-depth, such texts were marked as a priority, somewhere there was just a good slog, these were second-rate, but they would come in handy. A dozen or two had to delete. Solid fighting and adventures of flesh were not interesting. It's addictive, though.

In the stairwell again, some bad man threw spam leaflets on the floor, I had to pick them up and put them in the bin. Strange people: they live here, why litter where you live? I've never understood, even as a child I don't remember writing anything on the wall. I used to break windows, yes. Strangers for a reason. But defacing walls?

As I approached the car, I slowed my steps. I stopped. I cursed.

The first thing my adult life has taught me is don't be late! Never, under any pretext whatsoever. If you have to, get out twenty-four hours before the meeting, but just don't be late! The appointed time of the meeting is a test to see how you're doing. Are you on time? Can you be trusted? I can't remember how many times a partner who was late for a meeting turned out to be rotten. It is fair to say that there are plenty of bastards among neat people, but that is another matter. So far, I see a pile of broken ice piled in front of my car hinting at the fact that I shall be late today. On one side is the fence, on the other the ruins of an ancient soviet car, and in the front the fruits of the janitor's morning inspiration.

I listened, but no shovels were shuffling in the snow, no cheerful swearing, no one rushing past with a businesslike attitude, so maybe this was not an attempt to get a bribe from me for the work, but quite a casual working moment. I hadn't cleaned the car in a week. It had snowdrifted, so the ice was piled in front of it, waiting to be hauled out. Damn, I should have left it in the garage. I wasn't going anywhere! Quickly figuring out my release options - waiting time for a taxi, catching a hitch - I shrugged and headed for the underground.

Hmm, so here's the aftermath of quitting at last! Not in the warm car, but on the breeze, towards the flying snow dust, towards the entrance to the underworld that swallows up the cheerful and merry people and lets out the nervous and twitchy citizens.

As luck would have it, the train was delayed, and at least a dozen people crowded in front of the doors. I was second, so I stepped on the heel of a man who was lingering in the aisle, and then I shoved him with my shoulder. I went straight into the back of the wagon, where I quickly pressed my back against the door (it said "No leaning in," not "No pressing in"). The man was about to say something to me, but then he was pushed a second time, then hit with a trolley bag, and stepped on his foot. He finally jumped out of the aisle. The young lad who stood in his place, however, also slowed down sharply. Apparently, hypnosuppressors do exist, and they are installed at the entrance to a subway. There was nothing else to explain this instantaneous slowness.

I called up the menu and looked at the list of books, then, after realizing that, I switched off the external channels and the sound. I'm not used to commercials in the car. And in public transport, it always popped up. So... The neighbor to my right opened the book, and I mechanically squinted my eyes, wondering. Amusing physics? Oh... well, yeah. Glasses. I've heard many people like to hold a book in their hands, but this is the first time I've seen it. You hold any paper that feels nice to you, and the glasses project an image onto the pages. The interns told me. Silly, in my opinion, but apparently someone likes it. Sighing, I moved the cursor below and opened the first normative document: I had to know what the lawmakers had invented for the enemy's fear.

After three stops the crowd had dispersed, two schoolboys about ten years old were shooting their blasters, hiding from charges visible only to them behind the benches and passengers, then someone tried to hack into my glasses: I automatically jabbed at the warning marker, which gave the aggressor a link to the Penal Code article. The student, sitting three people away from me, jerked and got out as soon as the doors opened. There were three musicians playing in the passageway, each one different. They played well, no worse than those in Adar's cheerful quarter, and I habitually threw in my change. I don't give money to beggars and bottle-beggars, only to musicians who know how to play, and they did, even though they were now competing for the hearts and nerves of the passers-by.

I arrived ten minutes before the deadline, but they were already waiting for me. In a semi-basement room where two young technicians moonlighting on jobs like mine were sitting. The set-top box was a bit garish, and I would have to work on the design so it would fit in with most models. I was going to sell all seven hundred, and at least the same amount, otherwise, it was not worth the effort. While an acquaintance from a domestic air-conditioning installation company was showing me all the features, I was trying to estimate how many copies I would be able to sell. The idea was fresh, but as soon as I start pushing my model, will appear competitors, who knows the subject better than me, so I have to decide whom to join - air-conditioners sellers or game developers. And which one exactly? Without deciding anything, I raked up the modules and cartridges, arranged for the next batch, and left.

I traveled to the tax office with a hitchhiker, who was discussing some new ban on something car-related and buzzed my ears and smelled tobacco in my jacket, so I got out of the car rather disheveled, which was caught by the tax officials, and against all expectations, I completed the procedure in just an hour. That's where the "space-time" wonders come in.

I had to wait for my order at the shop, but after arranging it with the driver, I drove home like a lord, in a car with a private chauffeur. The pile of ice had already been cleared away, but I didn't doubt it. And I just complained on the management company's website just for the sake of order. But there were sheets of paper scattered around the mailboxes again, some tattered and trampled. All right, it's not hard for me to collect. And at the next tenants' meeting, it won't be hard to call someone a pig.

Boiling with righteous anger, I finally returned to the flat two hours earlier than I had expected.

"Comp, launching the Creators of Destiny."

I had my lunch in "grab your bags, the train station is leaving" mode, that is, on the run, with a bite from a loaf and half-cold soup. Then I finally got the hang of it, calmed down, and checked the application - there was a letter from Nika, with a note: "Got an order for a booster." Lucky, very lucky. Let's see.

In the meantime... taking my order out of the box, I started to install the add-on to the AC unit. As I expected, I had to adjust it. What a people, nothing can be done properly without a kick in the ass!

An hour later, I finally got Vlad out of the room and walked through town to the Exchange. I stopped, bowed to the baker, and heard a few new gossips.

"Pal, where the hell have you been?"

Nika pushed her way through the crowd, followed quickly by a small dwarf.

"There's a job! Here he wants a booster for three or four hours. And he pays well!"

"Venerable, where exactly do you want to take up your craft?"

The venerable one wanted on the not-so-distant, but still, not-close shallow Misty spot, where we set off at once. On the way, I removed myself from the conversation, checking out the mods and the smells he was emitting. The Misty spot didn't strike me as anything: an ordinary field, ordinary mist, the most mediocre elementals, and demons. The dwarf set down his marching anvil and set to work while Nika and I quickly slashed at the monsters that had drawn our client's attention. By tacit agreement, I got the booty from every third one, two of which Nika scavenged. The dwarf seemed to have withdrawn from the process, leaving everything to the computer, with occasional music and scraps of television broadcasts on his side.

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"Pal, would you like a breadcrumb?"

"Is it poisoned?"

"Nah, just with cumin."

I wanted to, and Nika slipped me a breadcrumb on the exchange menu. One. But with cumin.

"Decided to pump up the cooking?"

"Uh-huh." She was eating something in real life and I sipped my coffee out of solidarity.

"That's a good thing. A woman should be able to cook."

"Cooking? There's only one thing you all want from a girl!"

"And healing?"

"Two, then."

"You're thinking narrowly. At least four."

Nika hesitated, then asked:

"Well, two I said. The third, I can guess, but what's the fourth?"

I have listed:

"Borscht, cutlets, compote... and to be quiet for a while. What were you thinking?"

"You're a scoundrel!"

"Whatever you say, Nika, whatever you say."

"Spa-awn!"

Shadows were thickening in the center of the Mist. Damn, so bad timing!

"Men... this, I've started a masterpiece. Oh, man."

Our dwarf stood sadly at the campfire, waving his hammer for show. His group status had a slow streak of recipe completion. Out of the shadows came the first creature, something spider-like. Sucks, it's a swarm, it seems.

"An expensive masterpiece?"

"Yeah. A rank-five craft should come out, no less. A week's worth of reagents gone. Would you withstand, huh? It's such a shame to quit..."

"Nika?"

"We'll do it. But what he gets there is up to us!"

The dwarf immediately perked up:

"No problem, fellas! That's why I started it. I just need a skill-up. I'll get the fourth one, a hundred percent! And the sword is yours."

A sword? Nika doesn't need such a weapon...

"I could use a sword!"

"Nika, why would a shaman need a bladed weapon?"

"Of greediness!"

Of course, what else would I expect?

The first wave of bugs was not too difficult as it should be. It was a warning check for hesitant or overconfident players. The second wave was not just warrior beetles but beetles with specializations. Two mages, three spitting spider webs (I had to constantly fall to the floor, dodging them), and again simple warriors.

"Pal, hold on! If only bugs are coming, it's a small spawn! If we're lucky, we'll be able to take it down with two of us!"

The two of us didn't have to. In the third wave, we were joined by three players, in the fifth, the toughest, which consisted entirely of mages and spiderlings, two more came, and we were finally able to form albeit small, a line of armored warriors supported by mages.

Sixth wave and there were heavily armored tomb beetles. Nika started using the "fire hug" again, which looked very funny as if she was trying to lie down on a slow-moving boulder.

Seven, and I almost missed the punch from the dwarf's shriek:

"There is a masterpiece! I'm up!"

With that shriek, he grabbed an axe and lunged at the big poison spitter, which made me even suspect he wanted to avoid paying for our hard work by dying in battle. I had to cure him.

"Last wave before the boss!"

And how did Nika know that? It was a wave, purely nominally, just three big bugs. I couldn't stand it any longer, and I squeaked as best I could:

"In the everlasting glory of the infantry…"

The dwarf picked up much more melodically:

"Shines the name, shines the name of Roger Young!" and finally retreated into the line.

Having dealt with the monsters, we were given three minutes to rest, looking at the ever-faster flickering shadows in the spawning funnel.

"Pal, you're so well-read. That's something!"

"Nika, you've read it too. How else would you know?"

"That's what the internet is for."

Ugh, they've invented the internet, and now you won't know what the person you're talking to knows.

"Dwarf?"

"Bogri, at your service, Master Paladin."

Roleplayer?

"Certainly honorable Bogri. I was wondering what the masterpiece was?"

"You'll laugh, Master Paladin," he turned into dwarf-styled, "but it's a sword. A sword with an intelligence bonus."

Raid giggled:

"Pal, it's yours. I can't deny you the chance to get at least a little closer to me in intelligence."

"Nika, you're so generous. Bogri, get it here!"

The shadows gradually slowed down, and I took a moment to assess the weapon in my inventory. Hmm, not bad. No better than mine. No essence slot, but very, very decent. Six Intelligence bonus and inability to disarm, plus more than enough durability. The only thing is that it requires a light reputation, and of mages, only necromancers can carry swords.

"Thirty gold."

"I will not take it, Master Paladin. This is your and the lady's trophy."

"Nika, the trade. Your half."

"I love this freebie. You won't believe it!"

It stinks.

The mod, having recognized the enemy, immediately issued its assessment - danger.

It's more of a dumpy stench, though, but still. Damn, will it be out by nightfall? Or do I have to sleep like that? The master assured me that everything was considered.

"Nika?"

"Spread out. This thing can only be contained by spades."

We only had one lancer. As a result, the fight lasted fifteen minutes. The huge, five-foot-tall spider lunged at us in swift jerks, throwing webs, spraying venom, and launching a sort of sonic attack. Nika, clutching onto the creature's leg, looked hilarious as the spider shook the limb, trying to shake the flaming shaman off. The dwarf and his errant tribesman merrily chopped off the other legs one by one while I healed the survivors.

I was treated well, and almost all survived.

After the battle, the dwarf thanked us long and gleefully (well, he must be a roleplayer! or he had been drinking heavily), then got confused and, bowing in farewell, left the game.

"Are you going home?"

"No, I'll walk along the road. I have to check something."

Nika smiled goodbye, waved her hand, and activated the amulet.

Stepping out of the Misty spot, I called goodbye to the chief of the guard patrol and opened the map. Forests, forests, fields. And the river. That will do. Here is a thick forest, spruce forest, and here rather a scattering of groves plus open water. All the smells are just right.

Nice day. Good company. And the Spawn we did well. I'll have to come up with a quest to get reagents for the masterpiece from the Mist. Not every day, but if there is a reward for the Mist. Why not give it out in reagents? Only how would this quest be made public so as not to reveal me?

I stopped.

Four players were standing on the road. The module blinked, showing conspicuous items. For example, a Wind Sorcerer's Belt with a minimum level of one hundred and twenty or a 100th-level Ice Strike Axe. A sylph (probably a mage), a serpent folk (more on the priestly and shamanic side), and two northern swordsmen.

An ambush, though.

Sylph started the conversation:

"Hello, Paladin. I hope you're not in a hurry."

"What if I'm in a hurry?"

"Then you'll have to stay late. There is a conversation."

"We can talk on the way."

Why didn't I use my amulet? I went on foot. I wanted to breathe the forest air out of the box!

"We can't. The conversation is specific."

"Well-well?"

"We invite you to join our guild."

"It's interesting the way your HR people work. Is it always like this?"

"You're in luck. We don't usually offer players below level one hundred to join."

"And I've been offered?"

"You are a special case."

"But nevertheless I..."

"Don't be too quick to say no," Sylph interrupted, "you don't have a choice anyway."

"There is always a choice."

"But not you. We need you. You have interesting information, and by all appearances, you intend to play a paladin. And we need that information, and there's room for a buffer."

"You persuaded me. I'll do it. There are some very useful worms in the sewers, they look like crap, but they give you a lot of exp!"

"That's funny. But let me describe your future - you go in, and you die. After you die, convinced you can't play, you leave. And the information you have turns out to be completely useless."

"What if I reveal it to everyone?"

"Do it. You can start with us. It's more important that you reveal it at all, and finding someone to pass it on to us isn't hard."

Yeah, it's not Flame of Anor. This is more serious.

"Maybe you can also give me a fun life in Real?"

Sylph smiled.

"Come on, we respect the Criminal Code. Strictly gamesmanship. Just a simple clan fight for influence. In fact, nobody's even gonna kill you today. You just happen to stab one of us, and that one gets killed right away. Minus fifty reputation for everyone involved in the massacre."

"You wouldn't spare it for the sake of your own clan?"

"In alliance lands, we will recover what we have lost in two days. There are special treaties between the clans. You, on the other hand, you're going down. Judging by your armor, you're not even at 40 yet, are you? That means you've got enough rep for five kills at most. After that, you're no longer a paladin."

"What if I don't hit you?"

"Then this handsome serpent folk will take control of you. Do you know how many interesting things you can do with a Charm?"

I knew. Half the ways of killing players without penalty used the ability to manipulate a character in similar ways. So it was no accident: they were coming after me specifically.

"Here, for example, comes a patrol of guards. Now you attack them, they kill you, the reputation is not as for a player, but it will still be less."

"What if I just die now?"

"Alas. Amala's portable altar is already standing nearby. It's about a three-minute walk. There's a second group waiting."

Yes, that's right after me.

"Why don't I go out for a month or two?"

"And screw up what you've been doing all this time? Your character's not like that."

"And how do they know about it? Ouch, ouch, ouch."

"Hm, it's easier to start a new char in another city."

"It's easier to join our guild. And even more profitable."

"Why not to a friendlier one? Maybe I'm a racist and can't stand all that transparent scaly stuff?"

"We're the best. Just trust us."

"I need to think."

"Think. The patrol will be here in two or three minutes, so think. But if anything, you can't leave Adar. Every mercenary in the city received a contract for you an hour ago. And a memo explaining what you need to do to get the extra credit. And for some reason, they're really mad at you."

"And why would that be?"

"I don't know about that. But you wouldn't believe how bad your reputation is."

"And aren't you afraid to argue with such a vile character?"

"And you have no way out anyway. You will do what we need you to do."

Suddenly I snapped.

How many times have I heard these words in different variations? How many times have I been forced to suck it while smiling? And here, in the middle of this pretty forest road, four pricks who thought they were something also decided they could teach me about life!

"Ahem. Well, that's that. I guess I'll have to."

"That's good, now I'm going to throw in an invitation..."

"I have to. To you, Goddess, I call! Send your Blade against the enemy!"

Sylph leaped back, snatching up his weapon on the fly and watching as the shadow of the Blade thickened in front of me from the snowy white glow pierced by blue shadows.

Wearing the same armor as mine, the same height, with the same sword and shield in his hands. Skinny, his face of angles and shadows, his eyes bright blue... he turned to me and looked questioningly.

"They are the enemy. Please protect me."

"Pal, why? Hell, it's better for you with us. We'll get you up to 100. If you want to sell your char, we'll find..."

Blade slid forward towards the target. I remained watching.

The first time I'd heard of a summoned Divine Avenger was when some reckless novice humiliator was chasing me around the city. I didn't have the Faith to summon the elusive, swift creature that was now chasing after the serpent folk, beating off Northmen and Sylph at the same time. Good thing he didn't have enough... or maybe not, I don't know. Blade is always equal in strength to the enemy it was summoned against. Blade is invulnerable. Blade gives protection against any threat to the summoner. Blade takes its price, three points of Faith. And only lasts a minute.

Apparently, the four of them were in a group and didn't expect me to go to extremes. Now the snow-blue ghost I'd summoned was four times stronger than any of them, and they weren't prepared to face such an opponent. The serpent folk tried to heal, but each blow from the Blade would drain a third of his opponent's life. Sylph was the first to scatter in dark flakes, then hit by a lunge by a tall northerner. The second fighter covered the serpent folk and held him there for a moment with a tank ability, then Blade just jumped over him, striking him from above. And a cloud of sparks exploded. Well, I wish it's always like that...

"Nice try, Pal. And now it's my turn!"

The arrow struck the serpent's throat, rendering it unable to cast spells for three seconds. The three seconds were more than enough time for the guards, who, though the guilder was high-level, had many guards, and under the hail of relatively weak but frequent blows, the already wounded man quickly gave up, seemingly without even wanting to defend himself, and crumbled, like the Sylph, into greasy black flakes. I'll have to see what that means later.

"Brother Paladin? Are you all right?"

"Not really, Sergeant." The guard was vaguely familiar: I think I'd seen him a couple of times in guarding the distant Mist spots. "Why wasn't I marked for murder? Even though I didn't start the fight, the law... I don't understand."

"So... how could it be? It's the Blade... fate let me see it. What, they were really bad people?"

"Nasty ones."

"Hmm. Well, you, Brother Paladin, know best. But if Goddess has allowed you to do this, how can we judge such an act?"

I see. Killing with the Blade counts as a made by NPC. I didn't even have time to heal the guards, let alone hit someone.

I looked around. The guards were lining up on the road, discussing the skirmish, and the sergeant was looking at the map with a businesslike look, not paying attention to the four piles left by the fighting.

"Loot."

Wow. Three hundred and forty-two gold pieces?!

Yeah, the "senior clans, high levels" thing is a load of bullshit. Just amateurs. Where's the second group in the woods? Where is the mercenary marksman on the backup? Why is there money in their pockets before the fight? Were they relaxing in the sandbox? You shouldn't have, kids, you shouldn't have. Level, it doesn't solve everything.

"Sergeant, there's some gold left over from these knuckleheads. Share it amongst the boys."

I counted out a hundred and, without listening to the thanks, activated the amulet. That's enough. I've had enough.

Stepping down from the binding circle in the Temple, I approached the altar.

Menu.

Yeah, well, miracles don't happen. Only four points of faith are left. At least my reputation's not down. So, twenty free points? Four in intelligence, and the rest in strength, to compensate. It's a good thing I didn't spend it then. And how convenient the sword with Int turned out to be! It's like someone's charming...

Inventory.

A dried cracker. I put it on a white stone.

"I think, Brother Paladin, that is not the best gift for Her."

I looked back at the priest. He smiled and shook his head.

"Our lady is a Goddess. Gold, precious trophies, and items of the power suit her."

Now I looked at the stained glass windows. The goddess's face was nowhere to be seen, just a figure. Here she follows her adoptive mother. Here, she leading her armies. Here, she walks away from her warriors, recognizing the former path as false. And it is as if she is looking back, waiting for her warriors to follow her.

"I am glad to believe in you, and I will obey the verdict without reproach. Take this breadcrumb, my Eldest. It's not precious at all. It's just the memory of a good day. Well, it's also rye with cumin. Good for chewing on a shining throne in heavenly chambers."

The breadcrumb scattered in the dust, immediately carried upwards by the wind.

"The gift is accepted, Brother Paladin." The priest was silent. "You surprise me more and more."

"I'm sorry, Brother, I didn't mean it. Now, I must be off. It's been an interesting day, but a long one. Good night."

"You too, Brother Paladin, have a nice rest."

We bowed and went our separate ways; he went to the altar, and I went to the gate.

Standing under the shower, I ran through today's events. Took the mod, and checked it out. I still need to tinker with the settings, but in principle, it's already working. I notified IRS, and groceries were bought for the week... need to make biscuits tomorrow. With cumin. The pile has been removed from the car. And only fifteen percent to level thirty-nine left.

The day went well, completely according to my plans.

"Comp, stand down."

Already with my head down on the pillow, I remembered and, finding my glasses, put in my reminder to write an article in Q&A on the latest regulations. There were some funny points there.

Now it's over.

It's a good day. Interesting.

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