Project Ouroboros Read Free

anywhere in Anshan you could find anything of the kind, so surprising it was for people, who were accustomed to digital music.
    — Once upon a time a man with goat horns and hooves was playing it! — Musician leaned toward the girl, putting his fingers to his head, representing the horns. — He lived in the woods, playing the pan flute and people thought he was the god of the wild!
    — Mom, what is a forest?
    — Come on, lo, I will tell you on our way home — a woman pulled out a wallet from the bag.
    — Do I look like a beggar? – said the man, offended. — Buy your daughter an ice cream and come again. Tomorrow at this time I'll be waiting for you!
    He stood up, bowed, clasped the stool in the backpack and hurried to leave as a downpour has begun. Musician got wet after a few minutes, his jacket with a hood was very light and he didn’t have any warmer clothes. Actually, the young man had nothing but the instrument, and the folding stool. He slipped into the nearest open entrance hall and sniffed, wet strands stuck to his face, nose dripping. "The main thing is that the instrument is fine" — he thought.
    The house, as it turned out, wasn’t inhabited. He wondered if the apartments had already been closed. Maybe he could hide from the rain and spend the night in one of them? Sitting on concrete floor certainly wasn’t good, but better than soaking in the rain on the street. All that he was dreaming of was a big warm blanket and a cup of tea. And with that you could even sleep there, in wet clothes on cold plates.
    "You're a fool, Aleph, you should have taken the money! Too proud, aren’t you?! But I would have slept in the hotel – a slight sigh of regret. – It is so cold here... I’d better not get sick."
    Aleph looked out the window. The rain had intensified, and this meant that he wouldn’t be able to leave his shelter any time soon. The chances of a normal overnight decreased with each falling drop.
    The boy sighed again and pulled a pan-flute out of the backpack, feeling something soft at the bottom. The musician pulled a scarf and a hat that someone had forgotten during one of his speeches out too. Yes, it was really cold then... Aleph got dressed and sat down on the backpack, looking at the instrument. "I hope all is all right" — he thought. He decided to play a little, to be sure.
    Quiet melody filled the room, made it more comfortable and even warmer. There was still absolutely nothing to do: nowhere to go and no need to fuss; it was still raining, and he didn’t feel like sleeping — after all it was too early to drop with fatigue to decide to sleep on the concrete.
    If only I could keep warm...
    ...The rain stopped as abruptly as it began. It was quiet outside. This meant that it was time to continue the way. Maybe this time someone would also want to thank him with a few coins... he would only need to force himself to take them.
    The streets were empty. There was no hope to collect even a minimal audience. Aleph wilted, but he didn’t want to come back. He went to the city theater, in hope that the show was not canceled due to bad weather.
    Seated on a portable stool, Aleph started playing. Plaintively and piercingly. Maybe someone would pay attention, for example, the group nearby. Handymen, probably ... Noisy and drunk most likely. Drunken people are often more generous too.
    — Hey, why are you here? – He heard overhead.
    No, these are not generous. These are pissed. And what do we do now?
    — Attaching to the culture of the city, — said Aleph. — And you?
    — You're implying something, eh?
    — No, I'm interested — Aleph knew that no good could come from such conversation, but the rage on that day drowned out all the arguments of common sense.
    — Guys, don’t you want some exercise before changing?
    How to escape, taking the stool with him? No money to buy another one.
    — Going somewhere?.. — Musician was caught by the jacket.
    The first impact was in the jaw, the