It seems to some that the line that separates you - just an engineer, just a man serving his days, an aficionado of quiet dreams, a thoughtful explorer in the wilds of science, or another worker of ordinary paths - separates you from the round dance of scoundrels, the coven of cunning people, the rituals of glossy professional networks, the reapers of other people's goods and a carnival of other artistically painted evil spirits - this feature is distant, there, somewhere beyond the horizon of memory and eyes. This is no longer the case. Many people think that a fence erected by science, everyday reason, the sense of self-preservation of a simple traveler along the uneven, crooked paths of life - this fence will completely protect from the stakes of the police station overseers of the “moral”, from the suffocating embrace of the orthodox, from the hammer of the brainy ignorant aggressors. They think that all this is far away, in the “heights” and “spheres”, beyond the horizon of what has been passed. It's not like that at all. A simple girl, a quiet, hard-working guy, a modest journalist or a divorcee who has lost her happiness - everything is now between the controversial sickle and hammer of the silent Moloch.