– Your way of speaking… here we go again… I actually wanted to talk about your frequently used "well", it's passed on to me, it's become a habit. No offense, but I don't see anything wrong with it. By the way, it was passed on to Rangit from me… or he did. His system… and all artificial intelligence systems are based on the method of comparative analysis, adaptation and copying in the process of contact. And this one has not only in the process of mental-verbal contact, but also moral-psychological, as well as through the sensations of the body, to whose consciousness it can connect, at the physiological level. They smiled, – they smiled, – here we go again, – now the assistants were laughing too.
– And time, time," the voice of Dr. Maymun's collaborator and colleague on the project, to which he had deliberately given a tone of causticity, sounded unexpectedly in tune with the joking notes.
He was a programmable systems engineer and the youngest professor at the center. Rutra called him "the luminary of science" in a friendly way, and was used to his mannerisms, joking on and off.
– Well, let's get on our way," Ruthra agreed without emotion.
The installation has been prepared. The location of sending the consciousness was determined. It was a mysterious region in the vicinity of a massive black hole, in the area of which, according to experts, there were many inhabited worlds like ours. This region of the metagalaxy was located in the constellation of the Hound Dogs, at a distance of 10.37 billion light-years from the Sun. The mass of the giant, pulling down the entire gravitational canvas of this region of the universe – 66 billion solar masses. Expedition into the power regions of such a giant was frankly alarming, although the body was in a certain safety. Not only that, next to such a giant, with monstrous gravity, there was also another monster – superbright radio-loud quasar TON 618. Not even next to it, but as if from the outside, enveloped it – a rattling mixture, 140 trillion times the solar brightness.
– Stop daydreaming," Maimun said, seeing the chief's thoughtful look, and waved to his assistants.
***
Ruthra woke up in a wasteland, either a hilly steppe or a scorched field. There was a small pond nearby, which looked like an oasis for such an area. Ruthra looked around. He shouted: "Anybody here?" Silence. He looked at his body, his clothes – he looked like a Bedouin: as far as he could tell, he was wearing shurukas, with a kufiya sagging from his head, which was tightly covered with egal. After wandering around the neighborhood, he crouched under a tree near a body of water. "What's going on? – Ruthra pondered. – My body…" He stood up abruptly, ran to the oasis, looked at his reflection, but yes, it was him, or rather, the body was his.
– What the hell!" shouted Ruthra in indignation. – Where am I? Where is everyone? Rangit!
He didn't get an answer.
It was evening, then darkness fell. Tired of calling, tired of his resentment, he settled himself under a tree and, with restlessness in his soul, began to kemar – to resist sleep, to fall asleep.
Unexpectedly, he fell asleep. He recognized it when he was approached.
– Master Ruthra, get up," said a seemingly familiar voice.
– What? Who? – He freaked out.
– It's okay. I'm an assistant in the relocation lab.
