Uncle’s relative’s house near the forest was extremely impressive, with a narrow road, numerous buildings, with an enclosure for horses. Such big houses exist on the homesteads of the respected Bauers. But the luxury facade with ancient mosaics showed the outlines of a small palace. The alley of strong marble gnarly planes was phosphoresced by the mysterious moon gleam.

Rosenberg pressed the button, on which there was a sign: Ohsenkocklinekeweg 1, Augsburg and at the bottom Gustav Jost von Rosenberg.

- Probably another Old Testament Rosenberg - Thomas quietly said through his clenched teeth.

A few minutes later came the porter with the galoons.

- Great! - two young men exchanged glances.

They moved on down the avenue. The moon illuminated by the deathly pale light seemed to be ready to move from the Earth's orbit to leave forever to the endless space. Silhouettes of common pipistrelles were coming out of the dark and the trio instinctively went faster.

*

They placed in a spacious lobby. Soon, there came the host. His thin, pale refined aristocratic noble appearance was quite rare on this earth. His tired blue shining cold eyes seemed to penetrate into the interlocutor’s soul, examining the triad with cautious curiosity. He reservedly smiled the distant east-relative.

- What do I owe your visit to, gentlemen?

The three conspirators spoke unanimously, sometimes interrupting each other.

Thomas angrily told about his invention in Colorado, the computer stealing, and how his work came to bad people. He raised his voice, often correcting glasses and his face darkened.

Colonel shouted that he was ready to catch the villain, but he needed help. His impenetrable look did not promise anything good. It was a dangerous mix of Genghis Khan’s descendants, spontaneous Cossacks, farmers, with a touch of royal blood. With a terrible accent, confusing German synthesis and words, he was pathetically telling the legend about Kolchak’s White Guardist, who had reached the country Belovode, about immortality secret developments in Tibet, about the dark planet and the woman in a sorrow-pyramid.

Uncle Rosenberg with an understanding look widened his eyes and openly mocked at those bachelors. Then he darkened and asked his second cousin, where was the refrigerator. In the village he was called Victor Bloom. His long, lean legs turned in battle into a deadly scissors, and his cold blue eyes popped out to madness. At that moment he felt no pain, no suffering, turning into an obvious berserk. He was a representative of the German community Povolozhye. Many of his relatives were killed by short crowbars in head and put into the ice hole of reddened Volga because there was an order not to waste bullets on the Germans. He went through a mournful wandering in concentration camps of Irkutsk and settling in the village in autumn 1944. Then local residents with surprise discovered that the Germans did not have horns. That winter, at night, they dug up and ate frozen potatoes in the vegetable gardens. Injustice and fights guaranteed him an eternal prison. Probably, he was saved by the incredible cruelty and merry cynical humor, which has been respected in Russia long since the Tartar yoke.

Uncle Witold Rosenberg brought everybody aromatic tea and delicious sweet German knot-shaped biscuits. There was late night.

*

Gustav’s Jost von Rosenberg speech was incredible. They found out the secret of good and evil. And they got knowledge which mere mortals don’t have.

Already early in the twilight, they went out to the porch. Birds woke up, a pair of grey frightened rabbits was rapidly running away from bizarre plane trees, young fresh air breathed out and rustled in the woods. Amazing, forever beautiful Germany played with the first sun rays.

Gustav listened inattentively to the chatter of the boys. He knew in advance what they would say and about would ask. He saw as young men has been peering, for the whole night, into the darkened spacious library, where gleamed tomes of ancient manuscripts. Those modern barbarians, existing in quickening civilization can not physically get the life-giving flickering spirit, unable to separate and to understand the dust of the old knowledge closets. In a moment they seemed not to be people. Thomas looked like a smart rabbit. Colonel looked like a primitive anxious beta macho. And his wonderful second cousin Witold Elpidiforovich looked like unreal Animation, internal skeleton- cuticula ready for everything.

Second cousins Rosenbergs were not similar, but at the same time they were united. They were invisible smiling curious sages. The representatives of the wonderful people whom simultaneously suited Wagner cap, a German uniform, colored tattoos on the nose, wood carving crèche for Christmas and sniper shooting at cameras at the highway.

*

The truth swayed like a glass of pure sparkling wandering wine on the ship. It was impossible to catch her, but it was somewhere nearby. Majority of the people couldn’t fully drink the cup of poison and grief called "temptation". Passed route traveled of the spirit reflected madness, digging, suffering, crime like on the board. And forever young wiser Germany will sing a song Lorelei again and again.

- You will be the first of the uninitiated - said Herr Roseberg. - The human ordinary psyche can not suffer everyday flight. The devices of the third generation are the symbiosis of time and psyche ... -

He hardly began choosing the word they could understand.

Someone said:

- Torsion.

- So let it be. An invisible warm blanket of space, the living and the deceased states.

After a long pause, he thought. Young people's eyes glittered like embers. One could also hear as Thomas shiffed from excitement.

- Incredible - said Colonel looking at the sky.

- During the flight, you will fall asleep in the desynchronized state of the intermediate REM- and D-sleep, do not try to turn in the brains. It is clear!

Both dutifully bleated agreed for everything.

- Where to take you?

- To America - both gloomily said.

- Okay. Today you will be there. We won’t take you to our factory. Witold will be with me.

- It is clear – cried Colonel and Thomas.

- The final and terrible battle will be tomorrow,- said softly, Herr Rosenberg.

- Find him.

- And what about connection?

He laughed thundering, like Faust. "Children" - he thought.

- I'll be nearby.

- I got it! - Colonel internally prepared.

- Drink a coffee and get ready.

Deafened and stunned by the heard, they not adequately went along the palace.

*

Everything was ready. Brothers Rosenberg, serious and ready, entered the living room, but there was no one. Gustav sent Witold to the kitchen. But there was only German sterility, odorless, like in hospital. Herr Rosenberg smiled. Obviously, the boys reached the library.

Thomas, showing special deftness, eagerly read book with cries of happiness, not trusting himself. He was like a Luntik who got into someone else's garden, trying to eat more and different products.

Colonel was serious. He crawled on all fours, activated the fifth speed devouring information using the old diagonal forced way trying to spend no more than fifty seconds on a book. Taking out another spiritual treasure, he used a special “long reacher” thing for books. However, the monumental reacher was imperfect. The evidence of it was like a fresh bruise probably put with a heavy ancient book, which fell down on Colonel’s head.

In a dark doorway Herr Rosenberg looked at that orgy and his profile of uneven shadows seemed to be incredibly similar to the face of Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel during recent years in Kreuzberg.

However, when those rodents moved to the corner, Gustav suddenly got mad, having grabbed an extension cord, hit the both on the backs, pushing them out of the office.