Why? If someone could deceive anyone, then he would not pay for anything, even conscience is not required. "Conscience" - what is it? This feeling is pressing on emotions, on the brain, on relationships, on your time.

Betrayal is a step that is not noticeable at first, but, becoming obvious, is palpable not only for the betrayer, but also for the devotee. There is no patience here. There is a time - memory, friendship, and fragments of those minutes when there was trust.

Trust is what time spent together, a common cause, common values, shared memory, common feelings mean. If there is no trust, the person will not cope alone. Or he can cope when, besides his conscience, he has a lot of things that could be necessary for a person loyal to them. Anyway, a traitor can live for some days, but conscience will still affect and destroy the traitor. Then why betray? Do you need it? Everywhere has its own philosophy.

A person knows about evil, knows who can do it, but does not think about utility, not losing a second chance and any good changes. Only ordinary conversations with arguments give knowledge and feelings of security.

Who will protect you if someone wants to take your good life and wants to send it to yourself? Who can say and make for you any useful solutions against difficult questions and problems? "

The train of thought ended with the appearance of Mr. Raymond, judging by his appearance, much fake, but he did not notice the detective story, because the sleepy state interfered with the usual business orientation in space. Either he regretted about something, or was happy about something, although the versions did not lead to relevant really important circumstances, because his presence did not obstruct the topic of reflection, and in the case of opposition, the antiseptic in ampoules can help. After standing a little near the window, the guest turned and, staggering, walked back to the corridor, inaudible and not noticeable.

Chapter sixteenth.

After a long silence and ignoring, Alex Ives decided to print a message on his smart phone, attaching a brief voice message with the “Do not be sad” wish, and sent the attachments and text to Mr. Jack Waiton.

It turned out that the guy was not insane, but on the contrary, he rather considered changing the situation before events would take an inevitable and unchanged turn. "So as not to get worse!" - He repeated twice, pressing the "Enter" key.

"I am better than others, I have more cultural humor, the topics are not intrusive, the public leaves to expect better, but the rating is not as important as the realization that someone needs you as just a friend. Someone reads yours essays, and on the other side of the screen applauds you, knowing that you look at the reading statistics with respect to the reader. This is not just some kind of thoughtless “like”, from which goose bumps appear at night, this is a good grade, like an exam, surely "five."

"The relevance is as follows..." - what can it be? Is this an abstract? Is it report? Is it coursework? About what? About the life of a simple student living in the outback, furnished like "rural prestige"? So so idea.

But I know for sure, no matter how hard the author tried, no follower, copywriter, or repeater could understand the meaning of what the author himself had in mind.

You can create rubbish, be proud of it, and say everywhere: "Okay, friends, I have a hundred bucks for the white circle!" It is empty, nothing. You do not know what inspiration, work, abilities mean, and you feel sick from euphoria because you do not know the meaning of life.

Hours, just numbers, but at the very last hour you will remember your senseless and absurdly hopeless steps to pseudo fame. A photo may become discolored, a lot will be forgotten, and what you have done in life will not be needed by anyone, unless you, on tips, in moments of exhaustion and self-pity ...

Not at all the boring abstract state remained with the detective, who read the notification from his client, polished to the minimum brilliance, but the feeling was that the one who had previously stood in front of him and a lawyer, who had a battered jacket in his hand, had a cap on his side and turned the visor back with Emblem "Hard Baseball," the one who almost stuttered at every question related to the case of Walter Berrow and businessman Avust Goodyear, now reported on his adventures with a little obvious smile and no pressure.

Chapter seventeenth.

"It’s my opinion that you’re deciding. I guess I'm still small. Otherwise, if you don’t want to know what to say, "If you don’t want to, do it yourself ..."  If you want to find out what kind of a car you want to go for I know that there can be auto-manned automobiles, but this is not that. Who is that? I see a gray the car at night. Again. Buttressed on the bottom of the window. I’m not so important because I’m not so hot. I’ve lost my life and I’m not sure about it..." - the email-post was visit to the email-box of Jack Waiton, at the Eighteenth of May, in the end of morning.

"I don't know. But I usually feel like I’m not always happy, but I’ve never heard any of Alex Ives’s friends before his departure to Mexico, neither after nor during it". - Jack Waiton, as a true detective, silently began to search for information about the actions of spells and the response to protection when photographing.

“Is there something new, must there be magic?” - he asked every minute, fumbling in the Internet, looking for similar cases in reference books and on random websites.

Everywhere is not what is needed, however, help was needed by his friend, because the look he looked at the policeman’s face at parting was double: now sad, then mocking, as if from pleasure.

"This is similar to demonic tricks, but is it possible in the twenty-first century, and in the middle of two thousand and thirtieth year, to believe in any nonsense like magic? Absurdity. We need to find out more about this..." mailing address on secure and trusted sites, making bookmarks, sorting out trash from secondary and tracking cloud files.

Why does he need it? No matter what happens to anyone, never more than this year, when he relied on the seasons and planned an attack on the mirror demons. Perhaps this could appear familiar Augustus Goodyear and Walter Berrow, frightening people detached from business and obsessed with ideas.

It happened that a network suddenly broke out without touching the wire on a computer, the provider replied: “It's all right!”, And the connection with external resources never returned after three hours, as if bewitched.

С

hapter eighteenth.

From Waiton's thoughts: “Thinking about everything, watching places, dreaming about something and everything, I often believe in myself. But something less important, something unknown, it makes big edges on my life path, blocks desires, solutions and opportunities without my consent".