Géb, as an architect, needed to observe and recall details accurately, especially in the context of computer visualisation designs, so he started an interesting game he had read about in a book some time ago. In meditative tranquillity, he went back in time in his mind and tried to recall the events as richly as possible. Because he believed that the brain could store all information from birth to death, he set himself the goal of practising until he had perfected the recall of details of events in the outside world that he had experienced through conscious observation. Initially, he chose events from the last year or two of his life, but as he was already quite good at this, he wanted to try his hand at events from the more distant past.

  Midnight was fast approaching, and as the letter from Igor had still not arrived, he relaxed from head to toe, as he had learned in the mind control course and later in other meditation training. He emptied his mind and left it to fate to fly his thoughts to wherever he could find a suitable field for practice. In the background, a piece of devotional Indian music was just ending. There was silence. A lyrical silence. And then, suddenly, all of Géb's nerves tensed.

  Brakes screeching, tyres smoking, a black BMW 750 came to a sudden stop. The door swung open, a man wearing a black leather jacket, six feet tall, muscular, well-cut, with sunglasses and short hair, rushed out, and ran towards the open door of the shop a few metres away. He grabbed the door handle, slid his shoes on the shiny marble floor and shouted, panting. Come on, they're here. Quickly. The glasses fell from his eyes with a great swing and then the two men's eyes met

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Igor - a chill ran through Gee. My God, it can't be. And the boy's eyes snapped open. His heart was pounding, the slackness in his muscles was gone, his adrenaline was skyrocketing. I'd never had a memory so real. He sat up in the chair and tried to take in the experience.

  - What was that all about? - he asked himself, and felt a tantalising urge to share his experience with someone immediately. However, at 23:55, this did not seem very feasible

  - The only problem is that nothing like that has ever happened to me," he continued the discussion he had started with himself. I've never even seen Igor. Another mantra came from the speakers.

  Sitting in his chair, his brow sweating, he suddenly remembered the Old Man's ramblings about synchronicity, illusion, reality and danger.

  - Strange, I haven't met the Old Man in, what, how many years? And then a week ago he reappeared. He looked just like he did that day. When was it? How did it happen?

  This time, he decided not to leave the memory retrieval to chance, but to go back into a meditative state and recall the beginning of his relationship with the Old Man. For some reason, he felt that the Old Man's words of a week ago were linked to their conversation many years earlier.

  He settled back down again, which this time was not as smooth as before, because he was a little afraid of the appearance of more nightmarish images.

  Still, he composed himself, and relaxed, feeling the faint glow of the chin lamp on his eyelids, and concentrated on the soothing, sieve music in the background. He took a deep breath, then exhaled long and slow. Another deep breath followed, and with the method he had already practised, he conjured up an increasingly plastic image around himself