video_Влюблённая русалка-23, Eng
Mermaid in Love Vladimir Yelin Chapter 23. The World of the Future “Please come this way and take a seat— That chair just there, it’s set for you.” A calm-toned voice, polite, discreet, Guided him from his frozen view. The artist thought, “So what comes next?” Which made the Elder start to speak: “We’ll lift the veil and clear the text Behind the question that you seek.” “But first,” he said, “we must review The breach that struck our water dome— A wrinkle spacetime struggled through, A signal far from any known.” Their terms were deep, the phrasing strange, Far from what Earth had understood. The scene required a mental range That few on Earth could grasp for good. The artist let his mind depart— Examining the room instead: The floors, the lights, the spatial art, And how the crowd around him spread. He noted women in the ring— Each one more graceful, poised, refined. They watched him like a curious thing— A man from Earth, of flesh and mind. At last, the lights grew dim and wide, And images began to stream: Futurist cities, smooth and dried, With colors cast in silver gleam. The people moved in even rows, Emotionless, as if remote. No streets, no homes—just plants in rows And skies of pink in glassy float. “This looks too perfect—too controlled,” He thought while watching scenes unfold. A voice responded, soft but bold: “Your thoughts are near… the truth is told.” They said, “Recall—back in your time, One voice described this vast divide: Andrey Fursov drew the line Between the soul—and tech inside.”
Mermaid in Love Vladimir Yelin Chapter 23. The World of the Future “Please come this way and take a seat— That chair just there, it’s set for you.” A calm-toned voice, polite, discreet, Guided him from his frozen view. The artist thought, “So what comes next?” Which made the Elder start to speak: “We’ll lift the veil and clear the text Behind the question that you seek.” “But first,” he said, “we must review The breach that struck our water dome— A wrinkle spacetime struggled through, A signal far from any known.” Their terms were deep, the phrasing strange, Far from what Earth had understood. The scene required a mental range That few on Earth could grasp for good. The artist let his mind depart— Examining the room instead: The floors, the lights, the spatial art, And how the crowd around him spread. He noted women in the ring— Each one more graceful, poised, refined. They watched him like a curious thing— A man from Earth, of flesh and mind. At last, the lights grew dim and wide, And images began to stream: Futurist cities, smooth and dried, With colors cast in silver gleam. The people moved in even rows, Emotionless, as if remote. No streets, no homes—just plants in rows And skies of pink in glassy float. “This looks too perfect—too controlled,” He thought while watching scenes unfold. A voice responded, soft but bold: “Your thoughts are near… the truth is told.” They said, “Recall—back in your time, One voice described this vast divide: Andrey Fursov drew the line Between the soul—and tech inside.”