Cubes
Vadim Simbarskiy

© Vadim Simbarskiy, 2025

ISBN 978-5-0065-5811-3

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

CUBES

We can know enough of the past

And be sure of present at last,

But the future stays unknown,

We can only guess what will be shown.

V.M. Simbarsky

The bone-chilling January wind and, more importantly,

the rain – the incessant rain that had been falling

for five days straight – finally knocked them off

balance. They had been stuck in this godforsaken

hole, a place long forgotten by civilization, for

a month now.

Looking around, it seemed impossible that everything

here was once entirely different. Wooden houses

once stood in perfect linear order, connected by

a single road that doubled as the only street.

Windows with beautifully painted frames, livestock

and poultry roaming freely near the houses, adorned

it. Not far from the village, beyond the rye fields,

stretched the endless expanse of forests with all

their treasures.

In those January days, a thick blanket of fluffy

white snow covered the earth, crunching underfoot

with each step. The frost, which painted cheeks

rosy, held these lands in its grip all winter.

From the sky, snowflakes fell evenly and slowly,

as if someone were scattering cotton from above

or beating an old, tattered feather bed. They

twirled and settled, and the snow grew deeper

and deeper, forming drifts where carefree children

frolicked.

Good Lord, was all of this real? Ben gazed at

the black, soggy steppe, drenched and muddy,

scorched by an unseen fire. He tried to understand

who needed this war and why. Closing the book

about World War I, he stared out the window for

a long time, contemplating the senseless, useless,

and foolish cruelty, that animal instinct with

which people so easily destroy one another.

“Yes, it’s good we don’t live in those times,”

Ben said to himself.

Our hero is a young man. As you’ve already gathered,

his name is Ben. At 24, he’s an athletic blonde

of average height with strikingly blue eyes. In

the mid-21st century, nationality had long ceased

to be a primary characteristic, losing its

significance entirely. So let’s simply say: our

hero hails from somewhere in the north.

His parents once told him that his grandmother was

Swedish, while his grandfather had come to England

from somewhere in Eastern Europe. But now, such

details are mere whispers of a forgotten past.

After the immigration reform in the first quarter

of the 21st century, borders dissolved like morning

mist, and the great mingling of peoples began.

In the blink of a cosmic eye, humanity transformed

into a single, unified nation – the people of

planet Earth.

But enough of that. We’ve momentarily lost sight

of our hero. Ben had just finished college, majoring

in 20th-century history, and was preparing for his

thesis on World War I. He lived in a small town

near London, working evenings at a construction

site. Yes, dear reader, some things never change.

Does this remind you of your student years? Forms

may evolve, but the essence remains. Students,

just as they did 100 or 200 years ago, still work

construction jobs. Our Ben was no exception.

And it was at this very construction site that

everything began. It started like this: An ordinary

day. Ben returned from college, grabbed a quick

bite, and prepared for work. On his way to the

site, he encountered an engineer who directed him

to a new area, section four. Ben had never been

there before, and his path wound through a labyrinth

of building materials, bricks, and assorted

construction debris.

No one was around, and for a moment, Ben felt a

wave of disorientation and unease, as if he’d

stumbled into some cosmic maze. Suddenly, he tripped

over a piece of debris. His head spun, and Ben

began to fall. Just when he thought he should have

hit the ground, he realized he was still falling.

It was like a dream where you fall and fall, then

land with impossible softness.

Ben came to, utterly bewildered. It felt as though

he’d been falling for an eternity, yet he knew

logically that only moments could have passed. He

shook his head, as one does in such situations,

stood up, and began dusting himself off. Only then

did he notice he wasn’t standing on the dusty,

dirty floor of the construction site, but on

something perfectly smooth and clean.

Standing up straight and looking around, he uttered

in bewilderment: “Wow.” Again, as one does in such

situations.

Everything around him gleamed with cleanliness,

and somehow everything seemed extraordinarily

precise. Sharp geometric lines, strictly vertical

and horizontal, were present in everything his

gaze fell upon. The structures surrounding Ben

were crisp – square and rectangular. Some towered

above others. Ben couldn’t comprehend what this

was. It seemed like a street in some fantastical

city from 20th-century science fiction stories.

At least, that’s how it appeared to him.

“But wait! What the hell is going on?!” Ben seemed

to be shouting at himself. “Am I dreaming? Did I

hit my head while falling? Am I unconscious now?

What am I? Where am I? How did I get here?” But

soon, regaining his composure and overcoming his

momentary hysteria, he thought, “It doesn’t matter

how I got here, the main thing is to get out of

here as soon as possible. So, the street, if it

is a street, is perfectly straight. The buildings

resemble huge cubes and rectangles without windows

or doors. And it feels as if I’m very small and

in the middle of a child’s building block set.

There are no people, no cars, nothing on this

street.” But despite all this emptiness, there

was a strange hum.

Ben looked at his watch: it was 05:59. “Six in

the evening or morning?” Ben caught himself

wondering. After all, when he arrived at the

construction site and fell, it was morning. Ben

looked at the sky, and it was unclear. The sun

wasn’t visible. Just a matte blue sky without a

single cloud. As if it were artificial, and there

was no wind at all…

Meanwhile, as Ben tried to analyze his sensations,

the hum grew louder and louder. And suddenly, as

if on cue, walls opened in all the buildings. Like

garage doors. People poured out of them, yes,

people. Everything around became bustling,

something like buses appeared from somewhere, but

without wheels, and people started getting into

them, and everything began to spin and whirl. Still

not recovered from his first impressions, Ben

received a second dose and realized that he looked

100% like a complete fool. No wonder many were

looking at him very strangely.

Here, dear reader, for the full picture, I switch

to a first-person narrative.

As I was gawking around, my gaze fixed on something

hurtling towards me, seemingly about to crush me.

Yes, it was the so-called bus. But someone’s strong

hands, probably, grabbed me and threw me aside.

A second later, I was sitting on the floor, and

next to me stood a guy about my age, of average

height with light hair and tanned skin. His clothes

resembled those worn by plumbers or mechanics.

I examined him, he examined me.

Then he asked, “Is your distance sensor not

working?” In response, I continued to stare at

him, blinking, as I caught myself thinking that

he was speaking to me in a language completely

incomprehensible to me, sounds I didn’t know, but

for some reason, I understood him. To me, it seemed

like some hellish mixture of English, German,

Russian, and some other languages.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

Apparently recovering from shock, I quietly said:

“Yes, I’m okay.”

Apparently, he understood me perfectly as well.

“So what’s wrong with your sensor?” he asked again.

And then he stared at me, his eyes widened, and

pointing his index finger at my chest, he said:

“Where’s your cube? Cube?!” he repeated twice,

while pointing at some red cube hanging on his

chest. Then I began to absentmindedly examine

myself, and everything in me said that I didn’t

understand what cube he was talking about.

“Cube!!!” he almost panicked. Then his voice

dropped to a whisper, and taking my hand, he led

me aside. Looking around suspiciously, he asked:

“Are you one of them?” he mysteriously pointed

his finger upward.

At this point, I couldn’t hold back anymore and

gave in to my emotions. In a raised voice, I yelled:

“What the hell is going on here? Where am I and

how did I get here?”

I was gesticulating wildly. In short, I let off

steam.

“Do you… have emotions?” he asked with surprise

and even, I would say, awe in his drawn-out voice.

“So you’re from the elite? A golden cube?”

“What cube?! What elite?!”

The stranger’s eyes changed. With concern, he took

my hand and led us into the shadows, saying in a

conspiratorial voice:

“Are you one of the rebels?”

“Alright, that’s enough. What rebels? What nonsense

is this? And anyway, what’s happening? Where am I?

No, seriously, is this Earth, planet Earth?” I

asked, almost crying and feeling foolish.

The stranger looked at me as if I were an idiot

and drawled:

“Eaaaaarth,” while taking a step back, apparently

already wary of my reaction.

“Earth…” I repeated in surprise. After a short

pause, I asked again: “And what year is it?”

I started to feel even more foolish. And a crazy

thought about time travel flashed through my mind.

“Yeaaaar?” the stranger continued in the same

drawn-out manner. “2150.”

“2150!!!” I exclaimed and immediately fell silent.

My mind was occupied with the thought: “Oh God,

I’m even afraid to admit it… but there are two

options here: either I’ve somehow really traveled

through time, just like in the movies, or I’m in

a coma after the fall and all this… Well, it all

seems very real…” I reasoned, biting my lip.

Apparently, I was reasoning out loud, and my savior

said:

“Okay, let’s go to my place and figure out who you

are, where you’re from, and why you’re here. I

don’t understand what you’re talking about, but

you don’t seem like an obvious psycho.”

I agreed and obeyed, as this was probably the best

thing to do in this situation, at least it seemed

so to me.

A minute later, we found ourselves in some quarter,

consisting of completely identical small red square

houses, separated by straight, even passages

between them.

“We’re here, come in,” the stranger offered,

opening the door. “Oh, by the way, my name is Stel.

And you?”

“Okay, Ben,” I muttered and added: “I was definitely

him this morning,” but without waiting for a

reaction to my apparent joke, I entered the house.

Inside, everything was laconic, simple, clean, and

without any excess. Again, the same strict geometric

proportions, squares, and rectangles. A minimal

set of furniture provided significant free space

in this very small house, which generally resembled

an enlarged shoebox, inside which a room had been

neatly made.

“Sit down, and I’ll organize dinner. And since

you’re from the elite, you have taste sensations,

right?”

“I don’t know what elite I’m from, but I could tell

honey from horseradish this morning,” I joked again.

“Yes, I’m afraid if you’re not from the elite, then

you’re definitely not below the green level. Well,

if you don’t want to talk, that’s fine, let’s eat

first. Today is Tuesday, and in our city on Tuesdays,

you can order organic food.”

Stel approached a large monitor, pressed some

button, and the monitor’s voice asked: “What would

you like for dinner?”

“What will you have?”

“Sushi,” I answered automatically without thinking.

“Ooh,” Stel drawled, “you’re definitely from the

elite if you’ve eaten sushi.”

“Well, yes, of course. Haven’t you?”

“Well, sushi, sorry, is out of my budget for now.

But if I move to the blue level and get a blue

cube, then I’ll try these sushi. For now… Do you

like beans?”

“Beans?” I asked. “I like them.”

“Well, that’s great. Beans,” he said into the

monitor.

I watched all this, apparently still in shock or

at least not over it. And so I just tried not to

panic and to listen and observe more. A minute

later, there was a knock at the door – a messenger

brought dinner. Stel quickly set the table, and we

began to dine. The dinner, I must note, was not

bad. Beans with peppers, some juice, in general,

not like I imagined from science fiction films,

where they usually have plastic for dinner. I said

this out loud, but there was no reaction to it. No

reaction, just like last time. Stel began to say

something and ask questions. And I tried to catch

his thought, but my eyelids were getting heavy and

simply sticking together. Stel, noticing this,

silently pointed to the bed. I tried to mumble

something like an apology, but my speech was

incoherent, and I trudged to the bed, fell on it,

and sank into a dead sleep.

I don’t know how long I slept. I only woke up, it

seems, at night, and since it was dark and quiet

around, I began to turn yesterday’s events over in

my head. Events or a dream? Could it have been a

dream? If a dream, it was very realistic. And

immediately I catch myself thinking: in that case,

where am I now? I remember being at the construction

site, falling, and then all this… dream or not

dream?.. But Stel’s peaceful breathing and the

flickering light of the lamps brought me back to

the fact that I still seem to be in an unclear

place. And I engaged in what is called “reasoning.”

Well, it does look like the future. In any case,

it’s definitely not Honduras or Antarctica. But

how? How is this possible? Okay, whatever happened,

if it happened to me, then it must be for some

reason. And it’s interesting here, actually. Only

Stel is somewhat strange, seems like a normal guy,

but, truth be told, he never smiles and doesn’t

react to jokes. Why? And he talked about some

levels, cubes. What levels, what cubes? And the

objects are strange, all square, rectangular. And

how could all this happen? I’m in the future!

Fantastic!

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice how morning

came, and sunlight penetrated through the lowered

blinds, filling the room with morning light. From

the rustling coming from the other end of the room,

I realized that Stel had woken up.

“Are you awake already?” he beat me to the question.

“Yes,” I answered and quickly got out of bed.

“Good morning,” Stel greeted me and, gesturing to

the side, said that the bathroom was there.

I found the door behind which was the bathroom,

but it seemed to be locked and didn’t yield to my

attempts to push it in both directions. Returning

to the room, I explained that the door was closed.

To which Stel replied in surprise:

“That’s impossible, as the house control system

recognizes you and the door opens automatically.

Well, as usual, don’t you have it like that?”

We approached the door, he grabbed the handle, a

red light lit up on the handle, and the door opened.

“Well, you see, everything works.”

I grabbed the handle in exactly the same way, but

nothing happened. And then I saw Stel’s widened

eyes. He stared at me and, as if with dryness in

his throat, said:

“It doesn’t see you?!”

A second later, he led me to the large monitor and

placed my hand on the control panel. Still, nothing

happened. He placed his hand, and immediately the

red light lit up and the monitor turned on, wishing

good morning, asking what he would like for

breakfast.

“It doesn’t see you! It doesn’t see you!” Stel

repeated relentlessly, clutching his head and

pacing back and forth.

“Who is ‘she’? ” I finally asked loudly.

“The System, the Systeeem,” Stel repeated twice,

drawing out the word. Then he stopped and, as if

suddenly frightened of something, ran to the window,

turned around, and asked conspiratorially: “How

did you manage to get rid of the identification

chip?”

“Listen,” I said in a more confident tone, “please

open the bathroom door for me. I haven’t been to

the toilet in what feels like 130 years. So let’s

deal with everything else later, chips-schmips and

so on, because I really need to pee.”

Stel looked at me, dumbfounded, and I had to repeat

in a more insistent voice:

“Open the door already, master of red buttons.”

Finally, he obeyed and opened the door. I rushed

into the bathroom. And oh, you can’t imagine the

relief you feel when you use the toilet for the

first time in over 100 years! Coming out of the

bathroom, I found Stel with the same thoughtful

face I had left him with.

“I’ve heard…” he began, stumbling over his words,

“that there were those who somehow managed to get

rid of the chip, but they were all caught.”

“Enough of this, the uncertainties are getting

tiresome. It’s clear that I’m in the future. Let’s

have some coffee, and you can tell me everything.”

“So,” I said, settling into a rather comfortable

armchair with a cup of a drink remotely resembling

coffee, I decisively asked the first and, as I

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