How i celebrated the new year

Now, while I am writing this text, my hands are trembling and my thoughts are confused. It is morning already, and I still can’t move away from what I saw and learned that night.
Often you hear that people want to celebrate the New Year unusually, so that it will be remembered for a long time. If you ask me, I would prefer not to remember anything. To spend these few hours in the same way as all my fellow citizens, in an embrace with olivier and alcoholic drinks, is calm and habitual.
But first things first. Although, I repeat, a coherent presentation is now given to me with difficulty.

It all started with a phone call yesterday at about five in the evening. At first I thought that someone from my friends wanted to wish me a Happy New Year. But on the phone screen there was an inscription: "number is not defined." Still not feeling anything bad, I pulled the green slider to accept the call.

“Hello, old man, this is Misha, we studied together,” said a calm, slightly tired voice, “I need to tell you something.” I bought you plane tickets, departure in three hours. I'm waiting.
- Wait, what sort of departure? What are you talking about? - to say that I was surprised - it meant to say nothing. With Misha, my classmate, I have not communicated for a very long time. I remember, right after the university, he started a small business, something related to cell phones. Then he became interested in some strange teachings and left for India. Since then, I have not heard anything about him for about five years. Until now.
- Have you ever flown on airplanes? - in the voice of Misha, irritation was heard.
- Well, yes, I flew of course ...
- So, registration in two and a half hours ends, and you still go to the airport. Record the flight number and address.
“Wait, wait,” I began frantically fumbling around the table in search of a pen or pencil. Ever since I graduated from high school, all my writing instruments were transferred at home, along with the need to write something with my hands. I make notes on the phone, I write something more serious right away on the computer. I take a ballpoint pen only to sign on a check in a supermarket. The only thing I managed to find was a piece of pencil from Ikea.
“That's it, I’m writing it down,” I said.
Misha called the flight number, address and hung up.
Sighing, I got dressed and went outside. By the way, Misha never named the city, so I did not know where I would be in a few hours.

New Year's Eve flight is not much different from any other flight. Safety rules do not allow garlands, colorful balls and alcohol in the cabin. Well, at least in economy class. As if compensating for the absence of external manifestations of the holiday, most of the passengers took the holiday inside. Therefore, the salon was full of smiles, the smell of alcohol and congratulations on the upcoming. Some passengers were sad - it was clear that they made the flight exclusively by necessity. On behalf of the airline, the aircraft commander congratulated passengers on the New Year and asked them to fasten their seat belts. We took off.

When the plane landed, it was already eleven. Despite New Year's Eve, a platoon of taxi drivers was on duty in front of the airport building. I sat down to the first one. While we were driving, the taxi driver spoke about the fact that I have the last passenger for him today, that he will take me now, and home. At home he has a wife, a daughter. He has already prepared gifts for them.
My phone rang. The taxi driver politely fell silent and turned down the volume of the radio.
“I see that you are already approaching,” Misha’s voice was still calm.
- Yes, I'm in a taxi now.
- The right decision. I believed that you would not leave me.
I chuckled back.
“So that's why I called you.” I want to give you some documents. In them I have described in detail, as far as possible, everything that I have learned over the past few years. I learned a lot. Even, probably, there is too much for the world around me to remain the same. I understand that for you this sounds pathetic, but still. All these years I have been studying the Internet. No, not protocols, servers, and more. Not at the level of what people have done. At the level of what he has become and what he has been for many thousands of years. Yes, do not be surprised, the Internet existed long before the appearance of man as a biological species. Of course, this is not about the physical implementation of the network, but about the information space. But let me tell you everything in order, since we still have time.

I glanced briefly at the electronic clock on the car radio. It was 23:28. We have already entered the city. I put the phone in my other hand. Misha continued the story:

- Previously, before leaving for India, I was one of the co-owners of Linear Solutions. As you yourself probably understand, the NDA does not scare me, so listen. The Direct Interaction Institute in Switzerland is one of the Linear Solution subsidiaries. My area of ​​responsibility was different, so I did not really delve into what the Institute was doing. How surprised I was when I found out the truth. You must not have heard of the Paris project. I'll talk about it a little later. So, here, in Russia, I met a girl from Japan. Her name was Iwakura, she traveled. Now she is no longer with us, her path lies in completely different places, but I considered myself not entitled to follow her and returned to Russia. Well, that's not the point. She persuaded me to sell my stake in Linear Solutions and go to India with her. The money would be good with proper savings, we could live on them for several years. That's exactly what I did. We rented a small house on the outskirts of Panaji and devoted all our time to spiritual practices. Once, while meditating, I saw a computer. A real computer. The graphical shell there was extremely uncomfortable, somewhat reminiscent of Unity. The browser was expanded to full screen, but the text was fuzzy, as if defocused. The only thing I sorted out is the url of the open page. The vision disappeared as soon as I remembered the contents of the address bar. Not remembering myself with excitement, I turned on my laptop and dialed this address. It was a gopher page. There were several chapters from the book of a certain John Ono. I was struck by the similarity of what I read with the practices that Iwakura and I did. I did everything as it was written there. I bought somewhere with a dozen old computers and countless different monitors. Ask me even now, and I won’t say how many there were. All the walls were occupied by monitors. The goal was to not be able to see anywhere without a dose of new information. I began to eat exclusively fish and carbohydrates, and spend all the time studying arbitrary texts or meditation, going out only to buy food. Soon, my friend began to lead the same way of life. And it was revealed to us. going out only to buy food. Soon, my friend began to lead the same way of life. And it was revealed to us. going out only to buy food. Soon, my friend began to lead the same way of life. And it was revealed to us.

Misha was silent for a moment, as if taking a breath, and continued:
- The Internet has several levels. I described them in detail in a document that I am going to convey to you. You see, for most users the Internet begins, and ends with http, ftp, mail and streaming. Well, Top and I2P for the most stubborn and inquisitive. But I always believed that the Internet is something more, that it is some other reality. And so it turned out. I want to say that there is life on the net. The Internet is not only an infrastructure for data transfer. Our visible Internet is like an island in an endless living ocean. And you know what I discovered there? Gateways These gateways lead to a completely different network, built on different principles, with other storage media. What is there, in this network information is life itself! This place I call the Primordial Internet. It existed long before the advent of computers. Yeah what's there he existed when there was no man yet. Here we got to the Paris project. Paris stands for Parallel Issue - Identical Offspring. So, the goal of the Paris project is to explore the Primal Internet. It is clear that I was not the first to get to the bottom. Only we studied the Internet through meditation and brain overload, and they connected wires directly to the nerve endings, using the body as a kind of software-hardware-biological Internet gateway. For their experiments, scientists from the Institute for Direct Interaction selected victims of murders and accidents. As a rule, those whom no one will miss, although they did not disdain exhumation. It turns out that not all people were suitable for their purposes, but only with certain genetic diseases. I personally saw one of these devices. These are no longer people, they are gateways. I will not tell you how I managed to get there. All the details in my documents are described. When you arrive, I will give them to you.

Taxi has arrived. I paid and left. I was not destined to see any secret documents.

A huge trench was excavated right in the middle of the courtyard. On one side of it lay snow-dusted pipes, and on the other a dismal shadow stood an excavator. Offensive steam rose from the bottom of the trench. Utilities are also people, and they also have holidays. To the great regret of all those who are left for the new year without hot water. Through the trench, forming a shaky bridge, several boards were thrown. I stepped on it, still holding the phone pressed to my ear.

Suddenly, at the other end of the tube, there was a roar. Misha swore.

“Old man, everything is canceled,” he said quickly, “forget everything I told you.” Better consider me to go. Turn around and drive back to the airport. All.

Misha hung up. Hiding the phone in my pocket, I stopped in the shadow of an excavator. A car was parked at the entrance. "Fourteenth" with tightly tinted glass. Contrary to Misha’s advice, I began to observe.

A few seconds remained until midnight. The very time when the whole city is quiet to listen to the president’s congratulations, drink champagne to the national anthem, and then run out into the street to launch fireworks.

And now, under the joyful exclamations coming from the windows, two healthy men in leather jackets came out onto the street. They led the third, breaking his hands. They didn’t even lead - dragged. It was Misha. Before being pushed into the car, he raised his eyes and looked, as it seemed to me, directly into my eyes and smiled. The car abruptly rushed from its place and disappeared from sight.

I walked to the porch. A piece of paper lay in the snow. Perhaps he fell out of Misha’s pocket or one of his captors. On the stairs you could hear footsteps and funny voices. People in red caps came out of the entrance, with some firecrackers, crackers and lanterns. They smelled strongly of alcohol. No one paid any attention to me. Bending down, I picked up a note and put it in my jacket pocket. I did not dare to go up to the former Mishin’s apartment, and so I slowly walked away to the bus station to get to the airport.

I returned home at about five in the morning. And only then I pulled a piece of paper from my pocket. There he is. Habr, I do not know what it is. Yes, and I'm afraid to repeat the fate of my friend. But maybe you can help me?

UPD

This morning I received SMS. At first I did not attach any importance to it, but now it seems to me that it can be somehow connected in this whole story.