Blake got out of the VR pod and went to bed. At first, he tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep on his right side, then on his left, then it seemed to him that the room was stuffy, then it was cold, his throat was dry, and when sleep visited his consciousness, it pierced his entire nervous system with the needles of a nightmare. He did not try to sleep anymore. Blake rubbed the bruises under his eyes, as if he wanted to erase the dried blue paint, and went to the loggia.

A cool breeze was blowing outside. The water in the lakes and rivers at the very bottom reflected the light of bright stars and the Milky Way nebula. Blake wiped the perspiration from his forehead off and could not stop his shortness of breath. He went into the shower, took pills, washed them down with water. Nothing interesting was showing on TV. Staying in his apartment turned out to be an even bigger nightmare for Blake. He wandered from room to room, like the lonely soul of a madman roaming the empty corridors of an abandoned psychiatric hospital.

Blake called a taxi, which parked in front of the loggia twenty minutes later. He opened the panoramic window and sat down in the salon and asked the AI to turn on classical music and told it where they were going. The electric eco-motor of the car did not make a sound, and the lev-thrusters lit up in a blue hue as it climbed to the third lane of the airway. The trip took about forty minutes. During this time, in a cloudless celestial space, he watched the bright light from the windows of skyscrapers, diode lamps, fireworks in entertainment areas. Even the slightest detail of the landscape was highlighted. Cars flew over the oncoming air-lane every now and then, blinding others with low-beam headlights. The border of the city was not visible at all, it was hidden behind sharp peaks of rocks and went deep into the darkness. Blake looked down and began to examine the changing skyscrapers, which resembled the twisted trunks of giant trees with interest.

The taxi landed on the lawn, mowed and soft. The door opened and Blake walked out. Ahead, on the plain and on the hill behind it, white tombstones of the fallen soldiers stood in the sparse light of lanterns. Each separate section of the cemetery kept its own history and was distinguished by planted trees: olive, almond, elm, spruce, lemon, and so on. The center was the only place where the graves were empty. The last refuge for soldiers from privates to generals, whose lives were taken by the explosion on the planet NSR-318556A. Their relatives insisted on such a place because they believed that the soul of their sons and husbands would find peace there. In the east, the bodies of policemen who died in the service rested in peace. Right behind them, the heroes who suppressed the terrorist organization in the frosty lands of Antarctica lay underground. Blake headed northwest along the trampled road and thought that after so many centuries there is still something in this world that remains unchanged. Calmness replaced the frantic heartbeat.

At the entrance to sector 17, a sign was illuminated with the inscription: "Soldiers of the sixth ITIPS unit are resting here." Blake knelt in front of the grave dedicated to his father Tyriel and mother Ayren and froze like a statue, indulging in memories of that day of judgment. He asked for forgiveness. The palms clenched into fists with such force that the nails dug into his skin leaving small bloody wounds. Blake drew a cross on the ground and looked at the tombstones on the left and right. He bowed his knee and lowered his head in front of everyone and apologized to everyone. He did not understand whether it was madness or not, but he saw the ghosts of his comrades and heard how they let him go in peace.

Blake held back tears and rubbed his eyes and left the cemetery at dawn, called a taxi, and saw a young woman and her little son getting out of the car at the parking lot. Both with flowers in their hands. They looked into each other's eyes. The son waved his hand at Blake, his mother bowed her head, looked away, lightly touched the child's back, said something to him, and they left.

In the apartment, Blake put the first tube in the EF-312 and took out a raw scrambled egg with pieces of sausage, after he put it in the second box and warmed it up. Then he took the powder in a vacuum bag from the refrigerator and put it in the lower compartment of the coffee machine and brewed a strong coffee with cinnamon flavor. With his breakfast ready, he sat down on the sofa and turned on the TV, but not to watch something, but rather to get rid of the silence in the apartment. There, on the Animal World channel, they talked about cloning pets and recreating ancient, extinct creatures using DNA.

Blake finished his meal and felt sleepy, he yawned. He put the plates with pieces of food in the AB-100, pressed the green "on" button, and the box buzzed. It was 6:40 in the morning. Around nine, he can go back to the game. Blake decided to use up his free time to sleep or at least take a nap at the very least.

"Blake," the pleasant female voice of the AI spoke, "I received information that in case of another absence at the veterans' aid group, you will be excluded from the lists for an increased pension."

He stood up like a lifeless copper statue dedicated to a grieving soldier and after a dozen seconds, raised his head up and said:

"I fought for this fucking federation! They have no right to do this to me."

"It's not for me to judge. Talk to Lorrie."

"Is there anyone else I can talk to?"

"No. He's your handler."

"When can I call him?"

"From three o'clock in the morning to one o'clock in the afternoon."

Blake had forgotten that the one who controls his fate lives in a different time zone. He contacted Lorrie, who informed him that the next gathering would be in fifteen minutes, at exactly 7 o'clock in the morning. The curator of the group of assistance to war veterans, as well as the others, was a participant in combat operations and a retired officer. After three dozen successful military operations, he was sent to the Military Strategic Center with the rank of a general of the Federation Council. After ten years in office, something happened that will haunt him for the rest of his days.