23:01 She lowered her weapon and silently

endured being pinned down by the security guards, as if she wanted to punish himself with pain; she didn’t even flinch when they roughly twisted his arm, silently bearing the blows. In the first moment, everything was as if a single frame of a film had suddenly been frozen. This was the moment we call eternal. After this, however, events sped up even more, as if the Great Director had suddenly realized he had to make up for the wasted time spent on this dramatic image, and cut the sequence of scenes into an abstract montage, a bizarre blend of Chaplinesque burlesque and Shakespearean bloody royal dramas. A woman, in shock, began to scream, pressing her hands desperately to her ears, as if even she couldn’t bear the sound she was making, until the man beside her slapped her. The wife, whose dress was covered in blood and grotesque patterns formed by the splattered entrails so that one might think she herself was wounded — well, the wife didn’t know which child’s eyes to cover, though she was clearly in shock herself. The sirens of police cars wailed almost immediately, as if they had been parked nearby waiting for such an event, and only needed to switch on the horns and flashing lights. Footsteps could be heard running from the garden, sharp commands as the commandos took over the house. Although everyone knew the incident was not a terrorist act, but the bloody finale of a love drama, the mere fact that the victim and the perpetrator were children of nations that usually hate each other was enough for the authorities and the media to treat the case as terrorism, and news reports worldwide began with the statement that a Palestinian woman had killed a Jewish man… The girl on the bench sensed she was being watched but didn’t want to acknowledge it. Her pride would have been hurt if she saw pity in the other’s eyes, or even the slightest sign of sympathy; if anyone started to feel sorry for her now, it would be a greater humiliation for her, greater even than being deceived. But in the other’s eyes, there was no pity, not even mercy. She felt it without turning her head, staring rigidly at her book, holding it up as the last shield of her pride, as if it were the only neutral point in the universe that wouldn’t betray her feelings, and thus her pride. It was a cruel battle between them, silent but fierce, in which she had to overcome the other’s pride, the luxury of the weak, their last refuge. Third Dream My path is not your path… “My path is not your path,” John said on the seventh day, after he noticed how coldly he was being treated, unlike the other disciples, as if he was being encouraged to leave. That’s when he asked why he had been accepted as a disciple, to which this was the answer. Your path is not the path of men… When he pressed further about what his path was, he was told that he had to find out for himself, “…but you’ll never find out if you stay among people, only by contemplating alone.” So he went out into the wilderness, walked for twenty-one days straight, eating the food of wild animals, quenching his thirst first with stale water, then with his own urine. Revelations By then, the stones had broken his feet, and it was not his body but his soul that carried him forward; the merciless sun drained his strength, his body was covered in painful blisters, his eyes burned from the sweat running down from his forehead. That’s when Satan appeared, in the guise of a well-fed merchant, traveling with a caravan loaded with luxury goods. When he saw the figure lying on the ground, he stopped his beasts of burden staggering under their loads. He pointed to the stones in the desert: “If you are who I think you are, turn these stones into bread!” He lifted his head but could only utter inarticulate sounds. The Command The merchant then summoned his servants to tie the stranger to one of the beasts of burden, and when one servant remarked that the stranger would die without water, he forbade him from giving any, threatening to have anyone who tried to ease the stranger’s suffering flogged to death. The Trial It was evening when they reached a great mountain, and the merchant ordered them to camp at its foot for the night. He approached the mule to which the stranger was tied and set off up the mountain. The path was treacherous, with towering peaks and dizzying depths; a single misstep or a slip of the mule’s hoof could have sent them plunging to their deaths. They reached the summit, the merchant untied the stranger, stood him up, and led him to the edge, forcing him to look up at the sky. The Vision The moon shone in full glory, with clouds drifting across. Gradually, a wondrous sight unfolded. The round face of the moon and the interplay of light and shadow from the passing clouds formed magical images that came alive. First, a terrified, half-fainting crowd was herded into an arena, where starving beasts awaited and immediately pounced on the unfortunate people… The scene shifted, and two armies emerged from nowhere. Both armies’ warriors wore shining armor; on one side, fighters with headscarves wildly shook their weapons, their splendid steeds prancing, while on the other, a grimly disciplined force stood on a hilltop, their nerves taut as they waited for the signal to sweep down the valley like a raging torrent. The warriors’ cloaks bore strange symbols, resembling the crosses used by the Romans to execute their enemies. But before the two armies clashed and the warriors merged into a single, bloody, surging mass, the vision abruptly ended, giving way to an even more terrible scene. The Madness of History Emaciated men, women, and children dragged themselves in a never-ending line, just like their suffering. Every face was marked by sorrow and resigned despair. Occasionally, someone would collapse and never move again. The guards would then approach the fallen and methodically beat them to death, while the line crawled on, and no one thought to glance at their companion. The Summons Then the merchant spoke beside him, his voice now almost friendly: “Well, do you see the future of humanity and your people, what your ideas will bring upon them? You can still prevent all this. Take a step, throw yourself into the abyss, and you will save humanity!” The voice was soft, persuasive, and the words whispered in his ear were so convincing that he almost wavered. Perhaps just a stronger gust of wind was needed for him to hurl himself to his death in the abyss, but the usually stormy wind on the summit was now barely a breeze, and when he wavered for a moment, it was as if a hand held him back. The Broken Spell He turned back, staggered to the mule, but his strength failed him, and he collapsed. He lay unconscious all night. Only at dawn did he come to, when life was already bustling in the camp, the servants loading the beasts of burden, curses heard from all sides. The merchant appeared in the tent entrance and hurried to him, lying in his own filth. He signaled the servants to tie him back onto the mule. After that, the whole camp had breakfast, only he remained hungry and thirsty, for no one dared approach him, as their master had strictly forbidden it. On the Road to Jerusalem… The camp set out for Jerusalem, a journey of three days, which he spent mostly in a daze, by a peculiar grace of fate. It only occasionally regained consciousness, which was his luck, for whenever he did, the merchant appeared and tried to persuade him to renounce the Father, but he only shook his head. Then the merchant would fly into a rage, but never laid a finger on him; instead, he would pick one of the slaves, mockingly calling him LAMB, and have him tortured to death, forcing him to watch. Arrival Then they arrived at the groves above Jerusalem, from which the city could be seen below. Here, the merchant stopped the caravan and ordered the servants to take care of him. The most beautiful slave girls anointed his body with fragrant oils and dressed him in the finest clothes. The Temptation They treated him like a bridegroom preparing for his wedding, prepared a sumptuous feast, and seated him at the place of honor. After the feast, the merchant graciously took him by the arm, led him out of the camp, and pointed to the city below, with all its palaces and treasuries. “All this can be yours if you serve me,” he said. He stepped back and looked into the other’s face, which now radiated kindness, but he shook his head. The recently kind face darkened in an instant, reflecting malice and hatred. The True Face of Evil His eyes flashed; he would have killed him if he had the power, but instead, he signaled the servants to whip him until they were exhausted. The servants obeyed, knowing their master’s ruthlessness — if they didn’t carry out the order enthusiastically, they could easily take the unfortunate man’s place. When they thought he was dead, they left him tied between two trees, and the caravan moved on. Third Day And I will deliver you into the hands of your enemies… The sun shone stupidly, the university security guards now greeted him as an acquaintance, since he had become a guinea pig, they recognized him by sight. Mose, the overweight, retired policeman whose smile never faded even in the most critical situations, had already raised the barrier in advance. For some time, he hadn’t even asked for his pass, which everyone working or studying on campus received. He had been tested for his telepathic abilities for a whole month, and the researchers were beside themselves at what an excellent medium they had found, although they didn’t even know the whole truth… This month was astonishing not only for the researchers but for himself as well, as he kept discovering new abilities in himself. At the same time, he was aware that he shouldn’t reveal everything to the researchers, whose attitude was like that of natives toward glass beads. They never ran out of ideas for what tasks to give him, and rejoiced like children with a new toy when they got positive results. He felt like a magician dazzling his audience with tricks, and he liked the role. Even the most stubborn materialists were unsettled, filming the experiments to analyze them frame by frame, to expose the “trick,” because they couldn’t accept that a cup could just float through the air toward him, as if gravity had suddenly ceased. So they looked for a hair-thin, transparent thread, thinking that if it wasn’t there, their entire science would be called into question. They were the kind who wouldn’t believe their own eyes if they didn’t see what they were convinced of, and in general, they rejected anything that couldn’t be measured or squeezed into the box of numbers, because they were too unimaginative and down-to-earth.