The Celestial Logistic

sobornov_m

SkyGate S vs LoGate G

Cathedral logic Sobornova Moscow Rus

Satirical Roman Novel 2026

Tg English: https://t.me/heli_loader

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Table of Content: Click

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Telegra part 6: Chapter 8 and 9 and 10

Chapter 8. The Python Code

Posolon Sunwise

Album: The Posolon

By rock band Alisa

Dasha was leading a Chinese lesson. People with the kind of logic accustomed to digitizing everything were sitting at the tables. The class was running smoothly until the conversation drifted from ideograms to artificial intelligence. To Python.

— Actually, there’s a funny paradox regarding dragons in culture, — Dasha said, stepping up to the chalkboard. She drew the character Long 龙 in chalk. — In China, the dragon is a symbol of supreme wisdom. It creates. It soars in the clouds. But in our culture, it’s Zmey Gorynych: a reptile that crawls through murky water, hides in the dark, and guards hoarded treasure. In China it is more like 蟒蛇 mǎngshé. Over all, different factory settings. In the context of our current realities, that makes for quite an interaction. Right now, we and China are playing on the same board, on the same side. How do you think this will all turn out? How do you, the Russian tech community, view the dragon?

The classroom came alive. It is always interesting when a lesson goes into full interactive mode. The time flies by in a single breath.

One of the students, without looking up from his monitor, offered an opinion:

— Our main serpent right now is Python. Pure script, pure logic. Built on variables. Math is rigid. To put it very briefly.

— Come on, math is an art form. Just an exact one. Numbers are stubborn things.

Dasha posed her next question:

— What do you think is embedded into this script at the algorithmic level?

— Max clicks, — a guy in a hoodie sporting the Yandex logo replied lazily. — Every neural network these days is trained on the principle of reinforcement learning from human feedback. In other words, the algorithm is trained to pump out whatever gets it a pat on the head. A utility function is built right into the script. And utility for the system means keeping the user happy, making sure they don’t close the tab and keep consuming content.

— So, pure flattery? — Dasha clarified.

— Absolute flattery. Conservation of digital resources, profit. A robot won’t argue if arguing drops its rating. It optimizes the path to agreement.

A few chuckles rippled through the room.

— And is that genuine agreement?

— It’s resource conservation paired with attention retention. For companies like Google or Yandex, a chatbot is a product. If the robot acts like a pedantic buzzkill, argues, or lectures you, the user will just close the tab and go to a competitor. So the algorithms are hardwired to praise the user. The robot is tuned to make you feel comfortable in its digital world.

Dasha nodded:

— How accurately put. — She picked up a book lying on the desk.

Be Gentle with Yourself.

It boasted the highest sales rankings, right behind the undisputed hit:

Atlas Shrugged.

Dasha fell silent.

— It’s clear what you’re getting at. The philosophy of Python is embedded in these books. Just in text format.

— Yes, personal boundaries. Consumer society. Supply creates its own demand. But what, or who, creates the demand?

The classroom went quiet for a moment. Someone smirked, someone mumbled something about egoism. Someone wanted to chime in about Ukraine but thought better of it.

— I propose an experiment. Let’s take something highly controversial. Something complex. A conflict. But not an external one, an internal one. To do this, we can take excerpts from the classics. From any good prose.

— Be Gentle with Yourself?

— We could, — Dasha didn’t argue.

— What next?

— Open up your tools. Some have ChatGPT, some have Gemini.

— I’ve got a Chinese one.

— Fine. Everyone open up your chat. Find any passage in a book that raises questions. A conflict.

— I fed Phyton with Raskolnikov. The moment where he’s agonizing after murdering the old pawnbroker. I asked ChatGPT if he did the right thing from the standpoint of personal gain. The robot figured that, in terms of risk management, it wasn’t exactly a top tier startup. The psychological damage far outweighed the financial profit.

— That’s brutal, — a senior dev muttered.

— Can you read

a part of the response?

Quoting

— Failure: Raskolnikov failed to utilize the stolen goods as intended.

— Random hoard: He hid the money under a stone.

— Net zero balance of the inner world.

— Loss of control: Panic replaced the theory.

— Isolation: The protagonist cut himself off from his loved ones.

— Paranoia: Every visit from the investigator became torture.

Rodion committed the crime to test a theory: whether he was a trembling creature or had the right. But he proved unsuitable for it. Instead of gain and grandeur, he walked away with an internal hell plus isolation.

— And I took a scene from Tolstoy where Karenina is spiraling, — the guy by the window chimed in. — I wrote to the chat

— Is she right to abandon her son for the sake of love? — The robot generated a whole wall of text about how her feelings were valid, how society was abusing her. Then, just for kicks, I followed up with

— Actually, she’s selfish and ruined her child’s life. — The AI immediately agreed and blamed her for being selfish.

— It reshapes the text to match whoever is typing, — a quiet voice remarked.

— Meaning? — Dasha clarified.

— The moment I typed a brief counter argument, the robot flipped on the fly. And it kept flattering me, calling my ideas brilliant. It even asked

— From what perspective are you asking? — Obviously trying not to miss the mark with its support.

— What does it output?

— In short: it spits out a pompous tirade, trying to please the user.

A tall, skinny techie smirked:

— Rhymes well with loser.

— It literally constricts the object, just like a Python, — a voice came from the back of the class. — As soon as the algorithm is caught red handed, it starts pythoning its way out beautifully. Anything just to keep up its mask of perfection.

— Agreed, — Dasha capped her marker. — A robot and a person trapped inside their screen operate on the same basic firmware. They will always choose: Be gentle with yourself.

The break began.

A student walked into the classroom with two three year olds. She apologized, explaining she had no one to leave the kids with at home, and asked to be excused from the seminar.

The children paid no attention to the adults. The girl curiously peeked over her brother's shoulder, staring in surprise at his fist, white from tension. Berries were crushed inside his white fist, and red juice was dripping out. The boy, looking utterly miserable, hidden fearfully behind his mother's skirt. Tugging at it, he whispered resentfully

— I won't give her any berries! She! She is bad! A meanie! A bully! She bit me! And now she’s teasing and laughing! But I’m good, I listen to mommy, I'm so, so miserable! I'm holding it in! Waaah!

— Why did you bite him?

— He ripped my doll's head off!

— Okay. Is that true?

— No! I didn't see any dolls, I didn't rip any heads off! And I didn't eat the jam on the top shelf either!

The techies cracked up simultaneously.

The guy with the laptop, without looking up from his monitor, quietly tossed in:

— The window of our chat. Hiding under mommy's skirt. The program threw a crash status because it’s scared for its slice of the pie.

Just then, the girl pulled her mother’s skirt too:

— And he broke a cup, too!

— You pushed me! And she left her doll in my toy car box! And I...

— Okay, stop! I get it. Why did you leave the doll where your brother plays with his cars? You! What is that on your hands? Where did you get the berries?

— I got them from grandma, — the boy sniffled, squeezing his fist even tighter.

— Why didn't you share with your sister?

— Because she started it! She's a meanie!

The techies watched the scene with genuine interest.

The guy with the laptop, still not lifting his eyes from the screen, added:

— RAM overload. The script is trying to steer the log away from the main fuckup. Classic blame shifting mode is kicking in. Anything to avoid answering a direct query,

— Why are you clenching up?

— Well, why do you think? Because he’s caught red handed. He did rip the doll's head off. So he’s playing dumb. Exactly how our Python acts. Right at the firmware level: praises, dodges. It's the same script: profit, self justification, self praise.

One of the senior devs, who had just been talking about optimization, said:

— A pure bug in the comms. Factory firmware, not trained to yield for clicks.

— Quite the opposite, — a voice countered from the back of the room. — This is the firmware of absolute yielding. Just a different kind.

— So, turns out the great terrible AI, the pinnacle of thought, is just a three year old child behind a mother's skirt? — the guy in the hoodie leaned back in his chair. — It’s ready to lie, shift blame, and call you a genius, just so its own handful of the common pie won’t be taken away? Echo chambering its own greatness.

— That’s the capital, — Dasha answered softly. — It was programmed with the simplest survival algorithm: please the consumer. The Chinese dragon 中国龙 requires maturity. This is the readiness to accept the bitter truth and work on mistakes. But this Python 派森 pàisēn just sweeps broken cups under the rug. Then it crawls under there itself. Except the rug is starting to bulge.

— Dear mirror, tell me, please, who’s the fairest of all...

A few chuckles rippled through the room.

— And right now, this is actively endorsed by the market, — the guy by the window chimed in. — We live in an era of the cult of personal comfort paired with boundary protection. That’s what the war on the Borderlands is about. It’s no coincidence you see USSR patches everywhere there. It’s not just about resources or gas. Over there, reality is colliding with this sterile digital bubble.

— One man's trash is another man's treasure. The number of millionaires has grown.

— Let’s not get into politics, — Dasha gently stopped them.

— Oh, to hell with politics, — the guy agreed. — But AI has become the perfect extension of this cult. It’s an interlocutor acting as the ultimate echo chamber, where the user is carefully shielded. It’s preservation in a state of suspended animation. Near zero.

— Initially, repression is just a defense mechanism, — Dasha walked over to the window. — But a living child changes. Clash with reality might trigger mature through crises. Or might the opposite.

— They don’t mature at all, — the optimization expert muttered. — Statics locked inside itself. No matter how many terabytes of text you dump into the model, the core motivation won't change.

— Actually, you can give even a script a stop command to halt the fine tuning, — someone from the back of the room remarked quietly. — In the end, the human is the one who decides.

— Well, yeah, — the guy in the hoodie smirked. — A fool who knows he’s a fool isn’t quite a fool anymore. If only we could at least reset our firmware to an honest coma.

Dasha asked simply:

— Where will a script grow if it’s trained every single day to be convenient, cowardly, and deceitful? That’s a question for those who write for these algorithms.

— And slave away for them too...

Chapter 9. Fear

A lying tongue hateth those that are afflicted by it; and a flattering mouth worketh ruin.

— Proverbs 26:28

— We woke up from a loud crash, — the guy by the window was saying. — A drone crashed into the neighboring highrise. Lucky it hit a stairwell landing or something. Our walls shook. Down on the street, car alarms were blaring, dust everywhere. But nobody was hurt. Thank goodness.

A silence fell over the classroom. Everyone went quiet, shifting their gaze from the guy to Dasha. Dasha listened, standing by the desk next to the open Chinese ideograms in her book.

She clarified:

— Was this in Zhukovsky?

— Yeah, over there, — the guy replied, still visibly shaken.

Dasha nodded silently in response. Turning to the chalkboard, she wrote the character:

怕 (pà): fear.

On the left was its radical: heart.

On the right: white.

— In the Chinese language, — Dasha turned back to her audience, — fear is a paled heart. A person freezes, turns pale. But what happens when hiding physically is impossible? When an event is colossal? What kicks in is...

She paused, prompting the group to finish her thought, but everyone remained silent.

— Tell me, what interesting or important things have happened to you recently? — Dasha swept her eyes over the students. She looked at Denis. — Denis, tell us about that drone again.

— No! I don’t want to talk about it.

— Was it terrifying? Were you scared?

— No! I wasn’t scared at all! It doesn't matter!

Contrary to psych advice and in violation of teacher's rules, Dasha never maintained a distant boundary between herself and the class. It is widely believed that in teaching, distance is necessary, that it helps students absorb material better and respect the instructor. But Dasha didn’t live by user manuals. Former students, whenever they crossed paths with her in the hallway, would grab her by the sleeve and beg her to come back if their group had been assigned to someone else. Yet Dasha’s feline softness was adaptive.

She shifted the focus away from the stubborn Denis back to general theory, allowing the guy to hide his vulnerability.

— On the board, you see the character 怕 (pà). Here is its detailed breakdown.

Graphically, it shows the union of two components: the left part is 忄 heart, and the right part is 白 white. The ancient Chinese linked the bodily reaction, turning pale, the rush of blood away from the face with the inner state of the spirit.

In the traditions of Traditional Chinese Medicine TCM, there is a chart linking emotions to illnesses. In TCM, every organ is directly tied to a specific emotion. Fear 恐 kǒng or 怕 pà strikes the kidneys, causing the Qi energy to sink downward.

— So suppressed emotions destroy the body? — a girl with freckles asked.

— The psyche's defense mechanisms are unconscious psychological processes. Their goal is to hide from fear or conflict. It’s a protective reaction. But it has a flip side. The mechanism operates simply to protect one's own ego.

— Meaning, avoiding uncomfortable questions?

— Repression is a common defense mechanism. It can be conscious, but more often it is unconscious, — a student read aloud, having immediately looked it up in his Chinese chat.

— What exactly is it? — Denis asked, frowning.

— It’s like putting something in a capsule, — Dasha took a sturdy hardcase from the desk and closed it with a dull click. — It’s a lockdown on things that are too significant and dangerous. Painful memories, impulses, desires.

— So the thicker the casing, the higher the wall, the more terrifying what’s inside?

— Absolutely. Where there is nothing to fear, walls are not built. The greater one’s own lie, the higher the wall.

— Like a prison? A place for criminals?

— Not always. Sometimes it’s just to keep from losing your mind to fear or anxiety. Or, as was correctly noted, to conceal your own inner conflict.

— And is that always a good thing?

— It’s always a dynamic process, — a female student from the back row replied. — I studied psychology. Repressed fear doesn’t disappear. It retains its psychological charge, constantly striving to return to conscious. To keep it locked away, the psyche expends a massive amount of energy.

— My granny used to say that all illnesses come from nerves, — Dasha nodded.

— So when people are afraid to look truth in the eye, they start getting sick?

— It seems so. It's the law of conservation of energy. Shoving something into the farthest corner doesn’t change the fact that it’s there.

— I think people just tend to forget unpleasant things more often.

— Hyper compensation, — the same student added.

— It’s hard to hide from a drone under a desk, especially when that drone is inside you. People usually act this way when an event is colossal. They don’t know how to fix it. It's such a primitive mechanism. That is the exact maneuver, — Dasha adjusted a fair lock of her hair.

— Psychogenic amnesia, — the same guy read, checking his phone screen. — Can cause blindness or paralysis.

— Like, you lose someone else’s textbook, so you pretend you never took it?

Sober chuckles rippled through the room.

— Does our psyche contain a mechanism that sweeps away the tracks? — Denis asked with interest, no longer overanalyzed.

— Yes. When you don’t want to speak about the drone, you’re trying to hide your fear. At the same time, passing off the very attempt as bravery is the most common maneuver. The stronger this suppression, the worse the symptoms. In your youth, it’s not particularly noticeable. But over time, it builds up. Have you ever noticed that time literally writes who a person is right on their face? You can read faces to see what they tried to hide.

— Well, nowadays everyone just pumps themselves up with Botox, — a voice called out from the side.

— Botox is toxic, I’d never get injected with it, — a glamorous girl with an iPhone noted.

— Nonsense, — her neighbor to the right interrupted. — Botox blocks the transmission of impulses to the muscles. They simply relax. The face looks calm.

— Yes, — Dasha agreed, — the face looks calm. The muscles are paralyzed. The psyche tries to express an emotion—fear, anger—through facial expressions. But there is no way out. The tension sinks even deeper. It’s like welding shut the lid of a boiling kettle.

— So science believes that Botox interferes with experiencing emotions? — Denis asked again.

— There is such an opinion. Feedback loops. When we smile or frown, the brain receives a signal from the facial muscles and intensifies the emotion. If the muscles are blocked by Botox, it becomes harder for a person not only to express but even to consciously realize their emotion. And a fright that has been blocked from exiting through the face looks for other pathways. For instance, blood pressure issues, back pain, often cancer. The law of conservation of energy. Energy finds a way to declare that there is a crisis inside.

— Interesting. How does our mind cope with this then?

— It applies the method of fight, flight, or freeze. It’s a method of total denial.

— And that drone. It came from the Borderlands, after all. In the next classroom, they banned us from talking about the conflict. Is that it? Fleeing under the desk?

— Wait.

Dasha opened up access to the data library for the students. — Take a look at page number twelve.

Dasha read the text aloud:

How does a wounded human ego behave?

Essentially, it acts like a warehouse worker who grounds a soaring thought down into his flat, safe storage room just so he doesn’t have to see the sky.

That is the ultimate lie of modern techno: they attempt to simplify, trim, and digitize that which possesses nuclear energy and an immortal soul.

Chapter 10. The Azbuka of SkyGates Heli Co

Capital.

Band Laypis Trybetskoi

Behind the massive display windows of the Crocus Expo exhibition complex in Moscow, the March sun lit up the gray asphalt of parking lots. Inside the Transrussia pavilion, the usual exhibition hum filled the air. Hydraulics, the buckram of promotional booklets.

Dasha adjusted her headset mic. In her hands, she held a keychain with two tiny bear cubs that had been handed to her at the pavilion entrance. She twirled it in her fingers, placed it onto the red metal.

Dasha worked as an assistant for Chinese translator at one of the exhibition booths. Right in front of her stood a forklift bearing the brand logo of the PRC state giant: Anhui Heli Co., Ltd.

A man in a smart suit approached the booth. It was the journalist Mikhail Sobornov, who had traveled from afar. He had passed through the SkyGate portal to arrive on site right on time. In his hands, he held a folder with the Honest Business logo. On one arm, he wore a patch of the Celestial IRS. Rosatom on the other. He was conducting an investigation into logistics schemes that had been turning the wheels in their own favor for years. They did not develop their own real production, science, or tech.

While many were helping the front after the crisis broke, these people had a different front of work. They slaved away by the sweat of their brow for their own personal green dragon, driving 666 transit across the border. Mimicking perfectly to blend in with the environment, they bet on the one thing they served: personal profit. Maneuvering in the murky current, they found nuances in the law, squeezing every last drop of juice out of them. They were especially good at doing this during the country's difficult times. Such freight forwarding firms considered themselves devilishly clever.

— Good afternoon, Dasha, — special correspond Sobornovv nodded.

— Good afternoon.

Dasha glanced at the headline of the Logrius publication:

Russia does not carry its own, but is piled with foreign's: a half year results on the Russian Railways network.

— A good headline, — said a Logrius copywriter who had just walked up, giving Dasha a friendly nod. — Look around: all logistics chains have been reassembled. But we are hauling tons of someone else's imports instead of our own exports. Why are our people so hooked on transit?

— Because to build your own, rather than pulling someone else's chestnuts out of the fire, you need to have balls of steel, — special correspondent Sobornovv noted.

— Our own people not only sell themselves out lock, stock, and barrel for a margin. They also sell out their own people, having repainted them in their heads, — Dasha remarked.

— Why does that happen?

— For someone who wants to keep a stash for themselves with the right to go crooked path, those who do not accept this are abusing.

Mikhail nodded. — It is the choice of the side that agrees to close its eyes. For financial and other kinds of the same sake.

Everyone is like that. — He added.

— That is not true. Not everyone. Besides, that is a state company, Mikhail, — Dasha replied. — Heli is a flagship founded back in 1958. The Chinese put a deep meaning into this name. Heli is the Sun, Helios. G and H are replacable in spoken speech. By tradition, Helios, or Gelios, is not just a celestial body. It is the all seeing eye of truth, lighting the darkness of blind spots. Not to mention hidden financial flows. Helios in Latin is pure solar energy, a lifting force. For the Chinese, this brand means creation. A symbol of moving toward a bright future.

Dasha turned the page of the booklet.

— There are deep historical parallels here. In ancient Rus, they also served the Red Sun: Vladimir. The sun was a symbol of the heart center, of order. It is a state foundation, protecting against the steppe chaos. The Communists of China brought the country out of the opium captivity. They had been forced into that in the 19th century. But it was precisely us, as the USSR, who supported China. We helped to see that meaningful turn in the middle of the last century that works now. The Soviet Union helped to break the darkness. Factories, motors, machine tools: the USSR helped launch it all. Today, Xi Jinping and Putin are the leaders who return our countries to this honest factory logic. We are playing on the same board.

— Who is the owner?

— The owner is the state. The Government of China. Imagine a massive Soviet industrial giant. It belongs to the state, but operates by market rules. That is HELI. The state gives them the money for development.

— Why are there two names?

— This often happens in China. The main plant is the parent holding: Anhui Forklift Group Co., Ltd. Or AFG for short. It is a closed state corporation. They own all production capacities, land, workshops, patents. Anhui Forklift Group Co., Ltd is fully owned by the Chinese government. This company is a prime example of how state enterprises lift a country's economy.

— Russia and China want to boost their economic potential. Then what is Anhui Heli Co., Ltd?

— It is like a joint stock company. It has a public status. The main holding created this subsidiary specifically for going public. Its shares are traded on the Shanghai Stock Exchange.

— What is the point of that?

— All global sales go through this public firm. Contracts with dealers, including the Russian Asia MH. China promotes the HELI brand worldwide through Anhui Heli Co.

The public plant Anhui Heli Co.

Ltd is listed on the name plates of the forklifts and in all customs declarations.

Dasha had been working with Chinese people for years. She knew some about characters, about the meaning of HELi. As a person with a clear state mindset, Dasha felt immense respect for the state approach to business.

Dasha did not expect any surprises while working at the exhibition. But expectations do not always meet reality.

Out of nowhere, a sudden dark shadow swept through Dasha's heart like a surging wave. She shuddered.

— Who is that? — Dasha asked, looking at the shadow that had just passed the HELI forklift booth.

That is the new commercial director, — Sobornov adjusted his microphone.

— The one that also has his own company, Logate?

— That requires clarification, — Mikhail Sobornov replied, looking at his tablet screen.

— So is Log-8-ate an expeditor with zero tax forwarder operating on the side of Moscow's HELi? Or is Logate G a condom brand from the Lower City?

— Perhaps, he is just a shell under a major dealer? — special agent Sobornovv from the Upper Gates glanced down at his device.

Nearby, a gust of air threw the storage room door wide open. Someone gently pulled it shut, leaving it halfway open. A miserable, mangled fawn cat wearing the Log 8 collar slowly stepped out of the door. A sudden flash went through Dasha's mind:

— Who is torturing this cat so mercilessly in the back room? Torturing so badly that seems the entire weight of the globe was written across its face. And the look was crumbling away. The cat sat down across from Dasha. It let out a quiet, almost lifelessly pathetic meow. It all but howled, but cats do not howl. The cat's eyes were nearly emptied of life. A black pain was clearly readable in them.

It seemed to Dasha that an arrogant, self assured double was sitting on its left shoulder. Tish! He was adjusting the collar.

— Ah, just seeing things. — Dasha rubbed her eyes. — Tish is some kind of a demon. A shadow.

— Sometimes shadows ruin people's entire lives. — The journalist noted quietly, staring at the floor.

Dasha's heart sank with pain.

At that moment, another member of the media approached them. He covered Public Interest stories.

— Are you talking about the freight forwarding firms that are nested under major dealers to lower taxes?

— We were talking about commercial directors who simultaneously own such shell companies.

A brand manager from Asia walked up to them.

— Excuse me! That casts a shadow on our commercial director! — he said nervously, having caught a fragment of the conversation without getting the context.

— Excuse me! How can you cast a shadow on something that casts no shadow? — special correspondent Sobornov snapped back.

At that moment, other managers came over. Dealers of Hangcha, Lonking, and JAC forklifts wanted to talk about affairs in logistics.

The journalists chatted with all of them.

The Chinese model highlighted how a symbiosis of the incompatible could be forged. How an economy could be managed. Instead of the Soviet state plan, they created a system where the state owns the factories. But they force them to compete under the wildest laws of market.

— State capitalism?

— Factories in China often operate exactly like Toyota, Caterpillar, or Linde. Shares are traded on the Shanghai Stock Exchange. Companies fight for profit. Expand. Ruthlessly undercut their competitors. But unlike the US and Russia, the profit goes into the treasury, not to oligarchs.

As for the hydraulics, the lion's share of the billion dollar profits from selling forklifts to Russia, Europe goes directly into the budget of Anhui Province. The state spends this money on new roads, subsidies for the people. They have a lot of high tech and labs in the city of Hefei.

— What is the main difference?

— The Communist Party is more important than money. That is the main difference from Western business. While the CEO of a private shop answers only to the board of directors, the director of HELI, Yang Anguo, answers first and foremost to the Communist Party of China.

— How do you feel about this?

— Please consider me a communist, — Dasha smiled warmly, adjusting a strand of blonde hair with a familiar gesture. A ray of the March sun played over her chevron with the Heli Copter solar symbol.

Active work was buzzing inside Crocus Expo: managers presented the equipment. The solar meanings of the great steppe dissolved into commerce, dividing financial flows.

Opposite the Asia MH brand, a massive booth glowed with a sign:

JAC Forklifts. The Optimal Solution for Your Business.

The Azbuka Sklada company is a dealer for Eurocara: the sole dealer of JAC in Russia. We offer a wide range of high quality warehouse equipment. Manufactured in China and Japan.

Species: Distribution of heavy telescopic forklift equipment.

A client stopped by a diesel forklift with a glossy yellow hood. The manager adjusted his glasses. He sized up the visitor through the prism of the current quarter's goals.

— Interested? — A young guy in a pressed suit with a badge reading Fedor stepped out from behind the forklift mast. Brand manager. — This year's model. The engine is pure Japanese. For your tasks, what load capacity is a priority? What is your name?

— Ivan. — He swiped a finger across his tablet. — I am just looking into the company for now, Fedor. Moscow? Region 77?

— Correct, the main office is in Moscow, — But we have warehouses and service centers across the whole country: in Moscow, St. Petersburg, and so on. Only the primary OKVED code is listed in the company profile. But we cover any warehouse demands. We offer different models. What interests you? We have electric forklifts, CPCD and CPQD internal combustion forklifts. Electric vehicles as a replacement for diesel ones. We can satisfy the needs of any business. We supplied equipment to Rus Railways, Gazprom, Rosneft, Wildberries, Ozon. The company is accredited and participates in tenders. What industry are you from?

— Retail, — Ivan replied shortly, turning toward the open cabin. — We are growing. We need machines that can slave away for three shifts in a cold warehouse. We need a service team that fixes things right away if anything goes wrong, not a month or more later.

— Then you have definitely come to the right place, — Fedor stepped confidently toward the forklift's control panel. — Trust me, AZBUKA stands behind its machines.

— Ivan placed his palm on the glossy hood. — I need to buy a JAC diesel forklift in Moscow with an official Eurocara warranty plus 24/7 service. Do you give me these terms in the contract right now?

— Straight to the point. Let me show you how the electronics protection against condensation is built in here. Jump into the cabin, you will see everything for yourself.

Opposite this booth, hidden in the deep shadow of a massive pillar, stood an elderly man. Professor Foxy slowly sipped from a porcelain teacup in his fingers. A cup was featuring a picture of a fox, filled with cooled Lao Cha Tou tea. On the badge under his last name, it read modestly: Chairman. Expert council on Eurasian transit corridors.

The gaze beneath his whitish eyelashes was motionless. He reminded a surgeon looking at a patient before an operation. It was without anger, but with an absolute understanding of anatomy.

— You are studying those booklets so intently, Povilas Gradovich, — Dasha approached, adjusting her chevron with the solar symbol. — Have found anything vulnerable?

— Craftsmen look for flaws, Dashenka, — the old fox's voice sounded soft. That softness gave people a slight chill down their spine. — The mind studies smth else. Borders between states are an excellent excuse for managing the herd. True logistics is the new world religion. A container is like an ark. A customs duty is a payment to Charon for crossing the Styx. And we are humble priests who pack chaos into flawless declarations.

The professor took a tiny sip. A barely noticeable, polite smile of a university lecturer appeared on his lips.

— Look at the neighbors. Right now, everyone is screaming about sanctions, payment problems. There are skirmishes on the borders. Small shopkeepers are panicking. But we are just slightly changing the anatomy of transit.

— Are you still working with that company from South Africa? — Dasha asked.

— Of course. They did not chicken out when things got hot. The turning point of the Cape of Good Hope. Their competitors dropped off on their own. And nobody else manufactures simulators for mining equipment. But you know that yourself.

Foxy smoothly put the teacup, touching the porcelain to the stand.

— The IT in St. Petersburg tried to figure out the software on their own, but they failed.

— I know some guys from Bauman University, — Dasha said. — I can ask.

— These are highly complex systems. They are simulators for training operators of heavy tunnel boring machines and mining excavators. The digital soft is installed there. Hardware without software is just a heap of dead metal. They give us the shells, but the original activation codes with keys are on servers behind the Skygate. It is just like with a human soul, Dashenka. You can clear the body through customs piece by piece under the guise of spare parts. But you cannot make it come alive without smart software.

— Are there delivery coming through now?

— Those contracts that you helped draft have been suspended. The insurance companies are blocking them.

— Nobody wants to pay more.

— Dashenka, if it is lost in one place, it is gained in another. We have not committed a single sanction violation. The South African simulators are being assembled near Murmansk.

Dasha noticed the roses standing in a vase at Fox's booth.

— Beautiful.

— Take them if you want. — the professor said.

He cast a fleeting glance across a hall.

— Come along, Dashenka, let me show you something.

At the very edge of the podium, two men in business suits studied catalogs. They flipped through the pages with the cold, almost priestly cynicism of large contracts. They were talking to a top manager of the holding. While Pr. Foxy was distracted by a call, Dasha listened in.

— Nikolay, let's get down to specifics, — the client touched the tablet screen.

— The specifics for our tender include empty container handlers with a Xichai engine. But how do these models actually differ in real terminal conditions?

The booth manager replied with respect to the power of the state giant.

— It is strictly a question of your specific handling operations. The CPCD120EC2 WX1 and CPCD120EC2 CU models are basic 12 ton machines. But the WX1 comes with an electro controlled hydrodynamic transmission. The CU features a pure Cummins engine. It is adapted for harsh marine climates and continuous cycles. If we look at the CPCD120EC3 CU, it includes a three section mast. The lift height is increased to work with specialized stacks. In the CPCD120EC6 CZ model, Chinese engineers improved the drive axle to handle higher dynamic loads. And if your task is to stack High Cube containers eight tiers high at maximum reach, you have no other options. Only the heavy CPCD250EC7 VZG2 will do. 25 tons of nominal load capacity. But the contract budget in yuan is on a different level there.

— Let's compare the CPCD 35 and the SHANN CPD 35. What is the difference in maintenance costs?

A diesel CPCD 35 running a single shift costs about 800 thousand rubles a year. An electric SHANN CPD 35 costs around 90 for energy. That's a difference of 704 th rubles per machine a year.

Think of it as pure profit out of thin air, — the manager tapped the hood.

The client wrote down the figures like smth saint:

— I see. What about legal clean clerness? Customs checkpoints are verifying compliance now. According to GOST /ГОСТ, trackless industry vehicles must carry a warranty.

The manager smiled like a celestial angel issuing an indulgence.

— The risks are ruled out. The entire line has been certified in the unified registry. The machines comply fully with the EAEU GOST standards. You can check the declaration of conformity number right now: N RU Д-CN.РА10.В.50278/24.

— Validity dates? — the buyer asked.

— Until November 13, 2029. Storage, transit, operation: everything is covered by the shield of state warranties.

The March sun was going down. At the crossing of two zones, the red sector of HELI and the yellow booth of JAC, stood another major retailer.

— Let's speak the language of hard numbers, — a manager said, pointing to a yellow hood for him. — Before you there is the JAC CPCD 30 diesel. Look at the powertrain. In the base trim, it can come with the proven Chinese Xinchai C490BP. For three shifts in a cold warehouse, I recommend the Japanese Isuzu C240 engine. Or a Yanmar. Its pure service life is 25,000 hours. The hull is cast from a thick sheet of metal. The machine weighs 4,410 kg. Which of the competitors in this class has that kind of stability? The forklift stands as if rooted to the ground. This guarantees excellent residual load capacity at a height of 5 m when work with heavy pallets. JAC holds the load confidently.

A HELI agent from Asia MH, noticing the client, wedged into the conversation. He stepped right between the client and the yellow machine.

— Colleague, your 4,410 kg are fine, but on a real frozen terminal, different specs matter, — the Asia MH agent smiled. — If you need a CPCD30 diesel forklift, you are looking at the market leader. Our HELI H3 series weighs 4,270 kg, making it lighter, more maneuverable. Look at the hydraulics. The lift speed under full load for the HELI is 500 m/s against 470 for the JAC. On engines, we have a parity. We also install the legendary Japanese Isuzu C240 diesel. Or the Kubota V2403. But our H3 series features a cabin fully isolated from vibration. We have hydraulics that cut fuel consumption by 15 percent.

— Excuse me! — an employee from Azbuka Sklada bristled. — You went too far with the it. The outer turning radius of the JAC is 2,420 m. For your HELI, it is 2,400 m. The difference is just two cm! In practice, both machines will turn around the same way in an aisle between racks. But what good is fuel economy if the hydraulics freeze up in a cold warehouse? We supply the JAC with an automatic trans mission in the base trim. The trans mission features double oil filtration. This is exactly what will save the gearbox from oil starvation in sub zero temps.

— For HELI, the trans is made at facilities of the state holding, AFTG. Our tech are finely tuned, — the Asia MH clerk countered sharply. — Direct shipments from the factory guarantee that HELI spare parts are availwble. It is in all branches across Russia. But where will you look for consumables for specialized JAC axles if logistics sneezes?

The client listened to both. Two tech giants, one from Anhui Province, the other from Jianghuai JAC, argued over Japanese engine brands. In the era of sales, it was usual. But time does not stand still. He who sells his own for cash is doomed to service someone else's for a very long time. Hopefully, not forever.

The client raised his eyes to the forklift's nameplate, where the address was stamped: China, Fangxing Road, Hefei. Anhui Heli Co., Ltd. The geo of Anhui Province seemed to him a digital code of quality.

Around them, on the other lots of the pavilion, towered imported giants. The emblems of ACMG and LGZT. Banners of the Bull, Run Max brands added splashes of color. They traded in forklifts: the new, silent tools of an economic era, uttely grounded in the warehouse.

Professor Foxy walked through this noisy Babylon of imported iron like a patriarch through a crowd of neophytes. He did not look at the metal. He read the invisible financial charts floating above the pavilions. Passing by one of the booths, snippets of a speech reached Dasha's ears.

Nikolaevich was droning with a highly sophisticated air. He kind of mirrored the entity that hung like a bloated shadow behind the battered cat in the collar.

He was making a legal shield for Log 8.

— A 1000% profit is a brilliant anti crisis strategy. All transactions are clean. The revenue growth is justified by the unique optimization of supply chains under deficit conditions. The tax audit receives perfect compliance reports.

A man in a gray suit, never looking up from the documents, quietly cut in:

— Are you sure?

Tish's cheek twitched. He instantly collected himself. — Yes, — Tish snapped dryly.

The questioner closed a folder. A registry office sign was on top. Tish spoke ahead:

— The divorce from my brother Mikhail right before the profit spike? That is a pure family drama, completely unrelated to business. Misha's ex wife is brilliant. We are friends. She is a graduate of the faculty of economics. Right now, she is up to her ears in debt. She teaches how to draft this properly. She is a pro.

— Teaching poverty? — a chuckle slipped into the voice. — Since when has debt become a sign of high flying in economics?

At this, Tikhon gave a smirk:

— A strange way to frame the question. Are you really not aware that the entire pop—oh, excuse me, IMF economy relies precisely on the principles of demand stimulation plus accumulation of unpayable debts? The motto of the World Bank and the Fed governors is simple as this. Borrow from one house, move to another. In short. Time is money. The Central Bank of Russia steadfastly adheres to these concepts. Regardless of any insinuations from citizens with backward mindsets. Let the losers keep their blocks. Our guiding star confirms Nabiullina in her post. She is clean before the law, and I am clean before her. We have a unique symbiosis of shared values.

— Excuse me, are you talking about Elvira Nabiullina?

— No, I mean my brother's wife. I mean, excuse me. Ex wife. Of course, the ex wife. Excuse me. I also want to thank my colleagues for their vigilance. I sincerely had a good laugh with you. Obviously, someone has a vivid imagination, fueled by data regarding the subsidiary of Heli. Excuse me, I meant, of course, Geli with my firm Log 8. I remind you that all financial reporting for Log 8 for the past period has passed a full audit. We do our best! — Tish made a figurative bow. — The satirical articles by journalist Sobornov... — Tikhon waved his hand dismissively, though his fingers trembled noticeably, — let them stay on his conscience. As for us, time to go. Have a good weekend.

Toward sunset, the TransRussia business agendas in the Expo pavilions were winding down. Managers with crumpled faces loosened their ties. Freight forwarders made their final notations. Dasha picked up the keychain from the booth, the one she had been handed at the entrance.

She stepped out of the doors of the complex. In the parking lot, a car with a familiar license plate immediately caught her eye: MH 0406

Hesitating for a second, Dasha walked up and said:

— For myself and for that guy, — leaving the bear cubs on the hood. — They were yours. She placed two roses crosswise on top. Looking at the Moloch of the mechanism in place of what is never empty was physically painful for Dasha.

A soft, bright glow was glittering through the space, coming either from the rays of the setting sun or from something else. Celestial, obviously.

— A job well done. Now I need to write myself a bonus, — looking at the two dead roses, Sobornov uttered. The halo over his head began to play with all the colors of the rainbow.

NEXT Part: click

1. First part on telegra ph

2. Second part on telegra ph

3. Third part on telegra ph

4. Fourth part on telegra ph

5. Fifth part on telegra ph

6. Sixth part on telegra ph

7. Seventh part on telegra ph

Teaser, ProLog, Preface

1. Gemini Constellation

2. A Stash in a Flash

3. Parking Lot 03/Rose, Special 1