"A person dies when the last memory of him dies."
Joanne Kathleen Rowling
1
31st century A.D. People have learned a lot, a lot, from things that people of the twenty-first century could only dream of. And one of these developments was the technology that allows you to keep in touch with the dead. This connection was carried out by a special machine called the Decameron. The Decameron could receive audio, video, text messages from the dead, who, as it turned out, did not end up in Heaven or Hell, but in a tannic desert named Bodhe. This place was also called "the secret place of God". This place was in a different dimension, but it was as real as you and me. And only thirty-one centuries after the crucifixion of Christ, people learned that everything that is written in the Bible is nothing more than a fairy tale for the desperate and sinners. The first is for hope, the second is for edification. The heavenly king did not contact either the living or the dead, did not appear either on earth or in the desert, and no one knew in what form this mysterious heavenly power existed. People lived in the desert without time limits. Everyone who was not a mortal soul went there – that is, except for murderers, maniacs and rapists. Thieves and deceivers also did not get there. Just ordinary people who have lived an ordinary, unremarkable life. Individuals who became famous on earth and did a lot for humanity, according to scientists, simply disappeared, which seemed to many to be very unfair – after all, they deserved eternal bliss.
In the desert, people were tormented by boredom, because there was absolutely nothing to do … It was known that God redirected souls there to heal from doubts. But it was not known for certain that even one soul came to this goal.
***
"I come to your profile, as if to your home … To see if everything is fine with you … I melt from your direct look at your photos .. I envy the people who hug you on them … I expect you to you will write … Tell me, what did you believe in this stupid joke? That I am not? I am here! I am! But you will never write again … And this knowledge cuts into your heart like a wild predator and gnaws, gnaws … Where are you there. Are you alive? I don't know … I'm not sure. Even when your new post appears, I think: these are just letters from the other world … You are not really there … And my heart starts to choke sobbing … How so? You are and you are not … At the same time … How can this be? !!! "
Anya's diary was full of similar entries. Jurgen has disappeared from the horizon of her attention for 11 years already. Yes, social networks continued to remind of him, updates appeared regularly, but Anya did not believe that Jurgen was doing it himself. It is possible that his parents or sisters promoted his profile so that no one would find out about what happened. Anya was sure that he was dead. Under mysterious circumstances. Disappeared.
And now, there, in the distant Neverland-Burgundy, he writes letters to her, these small notes, which later are published by his parents on his pages. Jurgen was everything to her. The whole world, the love of her whole life, the first and last man who visited not only her life, but also her soul.
Jurgen was mythical, fabulous, warm, relaxed as much as possible. Since he was a poet and artist. He wrote poetry, paintings and his drawings were always saturated with such pain, the pain of Romeo, who was separated from his Juliet.
Anya could not forgive herself that then 11 years ago, she left Prague – without asking him if he was letting her go. Anya's father died, she wanted to return home, to Ukraine, to that city by the sea, in which she grew up, grew up next to her beloved father.
She wanted to pick up a handful of land in her hands, her native land. Jurgen stayed in Prague, bright, handsome, young, he had to continue to live. Now – if she had not let him go then – she would have suffered very cruelly.
But did she let go ?? The very next year, in 3011, she sensed something was wrong.
They were bells, bells that signaled that Jurgen might already be dead.
That photo is strange, like a dead one … then words, like a farewell ....
She didn't know what to do. I looked for ways to contact him, but he did not answer.