Vladimir Sorokin’s new collection of short prose includes texts from recent years—most of them are being published for the first time. The reader traditionally awaits a whirlwind of dizzying attractions: juggling quotes and eras, a carnival mixture of high and low, revival of metaphors, flashes of erotic prominences, painful or stupid death. If previously a frozen linguistic, genre or behavioral model, which is broken by the collective unconscious that has burst out, belonged rather to the past, then now the author dissects the present, in which the models of the past are updated, the breaking of tradition and the return to it change places, and the fragments are mixed in a psychedelic mosaic, depicting reality in detail.