The Before Short Story Series. Part 1: читать книгу онлайн полностью и бесплатно

Cheremkhovo

Two hours after the tedious flight from London to Irkutsk, and finally Antonio took a transfer to the hotel in the city centre by an air taxi drone. He was alone in the car—nothing prevented him from taking a bird’s-eye view of the Siberian city where he was for the first time.

‘What’s the temperature outside, … taxi?’ having decided how to put it, Antonio asked a question.

‘It is currently 29 degrees plus in the city center. It’s not going to rain today,’ the digital assistant replied.

‘How much longer will it take us to fly to the hotel?’

‘The journey to the Siberia hotel will take no more than 12 minutes.’

‘OK.’

The city center with high-rise buildings stood out ahead in a light haze. Skyscrapers tore apart the horizon, piercing the cloudless sky with sharp spikes. Antonio looked down. Apparently, they were flying over the suburbs of Irkutsk. Private houses, wrapped in a green blanket of foliage, were gradually thinning out, giving way to modern multi-storey residential quarters, through which groups of church domes could be seen in the distance. Their golden arches dazzled the eyes, reflecting the sun rays. He has counted at least six churches already.

‘And where is Lake Baikal, taxi?’

‘Lake Baikal will be on the left side all the way through the flight of the drone. But at this altitude you will not be able to see Lake Baikal. We will soon fly up to the Angara River. I can give you a sightseeing tour of the city center.’

‘Not this time. I don’t have time for this.’

Antonio was pleasantly surprised. He expected to see a provincial town in the middle of nowhere, but there was Brussels or maybe Munich in front of him. Only the Orthodox churches along the way would not let anyone to be misled about the city origin. The well developed infrastructure of the modern centre, surrounded by cosy and green suburbs of one of the largest Siberian cities, fascinated Antonio.

The taxi flew up to a high-rise building, on which roof he noticed a landing spot marked with circles. The taxi slowly started to descend. As soon as the hum of the electric motors died away, a hotel employee approached the drone.

‘Mr. Vidalgo, welcome to the Siberia Hotel.’

‘Good afternoon,’ Antonio replied. His headphones with a built-in translator on, he could communicate with others, continuing to speak English and understanding perfectly his interlocutors.

‘Did you have a good flight? Can I help you with your luggage?’

‘Thank you. Everything is OK. I only have this bag.’

‘Of course. Will I take you to your room or would you like to go down to the lobby?’ the hotel employee asked checking.

‘Straight to the room, please.’

‘Very well, Mr. Vidalgo. Would you follow me, please.’

While waiting for a guest in his room on the fortieth floor, Antonio ordered coffee to cheer himself up a little. Initially, the meeting was supposed to take place not far from Irkutsk, in Cheremkhovo, which had a rather ambiguous reputation. Earlier, over a hundred years ago, coal was mined there. But today the fate of the town was related to completely different opportunities. Cheremkhovo was considered to be one of the world’s informal hacker centers. It was possible that such a fame was to some extent supported and cultivated by certain government agencies. They said that the Russian security services were related to the activity in Cheremkhovo. It would be naïve to assume that the authorities did not know what was going on under their very noses. Most likely, once a free and informal community of talented programmers got close or was forced to make certain contacts with the state. But it didn’t bother Robert at all. So it shouldn’t bother him either. And yet Antonio preferred to hold a meeting in Irkutsk.

He came up to the window looking at the city centre, where cargo and passenger electric drones were flying in-between high-rise buildings along several air corridors. Each corridor was dedicated to movement in one direction only. From a distance, it reminded Antonio of ants’ paths where they would diligently carry all day long whichever sticks, bugs and larvae. The Angara River was visible between the buildings, its water surface illuminated with the bright sun, and pleasure boats and yachts gliding. For a moment it seemed to him that there was something familiar about the view—it was as if he were in his favourite bay in Naples. A knock on the room door brought him back to reality.

The guest, who introduced himself as Alexander, was sitting opposite Antonio in the living room at a round table in front of the window.

‘Won’t you mind my closing the blinds—the sun hits right in my eyes,’ Antonio approached the window and began to close the blinds.

Alexander continued to silently scrutinize his potential client, taking sips from a bottle of coke.

‘Our mutual Chinese friends, Alexander, said that you are able to help with our problem.’

‘It is quite possible that I can. Let’s discuss what exactly you need, Anton.’

‘Antonio. My name is Antonio.’

‘All right, Antonio,’ Alexander replied indifferently.

‘I need a secure, reliable and remote access channel to a powerful quantum machine that can solve the required task. This is the first. At the same time, the computer must have access, must be connected to international databases. The second. We need a good programmer who is ready to do the job without asking any questions on the computer mentioned in point one. That’s all.’