Chapter 7:

What is a dream, really? In most cases it is fragments of lived sensations or experiences, unconsciously connected by emotional threads.

If a person is happy — they tend to dream of something good. If not — they don't dream of such things as a rule. And what is more amusing is the absence of dreams altogether.

Dreams are not obligatory and don't always come. Some people see only a handful of dreams in their entire lives.

But the young man living in the village was not among them. He was frequently visited by all manner of dreams — whether sad or joyful. He saw them almost every night. Recently, however, he had been dreaming of something strange and captivating.

A chase, in which he tirelessly pursued something he couldn't hold but for some reason wanted to possess. And however irritating it was — the moment he woke up, he forgot what exactly he had been so desperately trying to catch.

Tonight would give him that feeling of pursuit once more. Excepting some absurd note resembling someone's SCP Foundation fan fiction — his night should turn out to be a good one. He hoped so...

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Deep in a forest where there was no light beyond the glow of the moon, there lay a clearing scattered with dandelions not yet finished blooming.

Moonlight played across their yellow petals, casting shimmers. And stretched out between the flowers lay a young man not yet conscious.

The moonlight wandered unhurriedly, and a warm breeze began toying with the young man's hair. He in turn gradually began to open his eyes and come to. The scent of dandelions tickled his nose. And his until-then blurry memories began surfacing.

Moved by his own recollections, he drew closer to the centre of the dandelion grove. There, as always, a pink-furred rabbit awaited him. Noticing the man, it joyfully leapt onto his shoulder, then from his shoulder into the sky, and from the sky back to the ground. It repeated these movements about six times, then sat down, wagging its tail.

The man understood: this was a call to play. And indeed — the moment he nodded, the rabbit joyfully hopped around him and began bounding so fast it seemed to be moving through space itself. And with each leap, another rabbit appeared — identical in fur and size.

When there were three rabbits, one of them briefly changed its fur colour to white — then back to pink. The rabbits right now wanted to play "guess the rabbit." The young man didn't know how or why he was able to understand the rules, but they were as follows:

1. Three rounds in total — the game won't end until all three are finished.

2. In each round, one of the rabbits turns white for a couple of seconds, then pink again. The rabbits circle each other for twenty seconds — when time is up, the man must point to the white rabbit. If he guesses correctly — the chosen rabbit turns white.

3. If the man guesses correctly — the white rabbit gives him a very, very, very tasty berry. If he's wrong — all three rabbits demand a three-minute massage, which the man must provide.

4. With each round the rabbits are faster.

5. If the man's score is two to one or three to zero — the rabbit will grant him one wish. The same goes for the rabbit: if it wins — the man must catch the rabbit.

The game began!

The left rabbit turned white for a couple of seconds and back to pink, starting to weave between its brothers. Those, hopping gleefully, spun around, constantly swapping places. When the process ended, the rabbit puffed out its chest proudly and pricked up its ears — it was clearly expecting victory over this foolish young man. However, the sly smile on the young man's face was somewhat unnerving. But surely he couldn't have figured out such a cunning strategy and realised that the right rabbit had stayed in the same spot?

Wagging its little tucked tail, the rabbit anticipated victory — but then the unexpected happened: the young man had just correctly pointed to the right rabbit.

The rabbits grew despondent, sadness came over them. But a rabbit said it — so a rabbit did it. And they gave the young man a red berry. And he ate it with great pleasure.

It made him a little dizzy from the rush of pleasure, and something stirred in his nose — but the game doesn't end there.

The second round began. This time the centre rabbit turned white — and they started leaping again. They leapt off trees, across meadows, tumbling through the grass and through the air — and so spectacularly that they drew more attention than any circus animals could.

And again the rabbits grew proud. Right now the human simply couldn't crack their cunning plan. For according to the theory of probability, the chance of the rabbits using the same tactic as before was extremely slim. Who would use the same strategy twice? Only an idiot would do that. Or would they? But what if the opponent didn't know you were that clever? He would think the rabbit would be in a different spot this time — but that wouldn't be the case. Truly a genius plan, worthy of a rabbit!

And the man once again pointed to the right rabbit... *(incoherent and deeply offensive rabbit expletives referencing someone's lineage)*. Again the rabbits produced a berry — blue this time. They had half a mind to throw it straight in this insolent man's face, but restrained themselves and calmly handed it over.

He just beamed — so broadly that the rabbits wanted to smack him. But the rabbits kept themselves in check. Right now they would definitely win and show the man the superiority of the rabbit race.

The man, meanwhile, was seized by a shiver — but it didn't trouble him: his heart and body felt far too pleasant.

The third round began. The right rabbit turned white for a couple of seconds. The rabbits started leaping again — but this time between spaces, warping and bending it however was convenient. They bent it so much that the rabbits seemed to disappear entirely, leaving only pink blurs.

The rabbits were exhausted, but now felt certain of their victory — there was surely no way the man had kept track of them.

And the man pointed to the right rabbit...

The rabbits smiled — for love thy neighbour as God commands, and beat him half to death if you love him. So this time, when they gave the man his berry, they immediately set about beating him with their little paws and praising his reputation — mostly with references to his death and what exactly they thought of this man.

But the man didn't care — a wave of pleasure unlike anything he had ever known washed over him, such that there was no need to even think, though his sides ached from the rabbits' blows. And the man understood what his heart truly desired: that this pleasure would never end.

He stood up from under the small and aggressive paws, his face flushed, his eyes wide. He confessed to the rabbits his most secret wish. To which they simply nodded — and they began to multiply: from three came nine, from nine came eighty-one. Fog began to rise from them, and the rabbits began to merge, forming a human figure. A neat dress appeared, gentle hands appeared, a beautiful girlish face appeared, and pink hair streamed in the wind.

The maiden of extraordinary beauty smiled and embraced the young man in her warm arms. She embraced him so fully that his body seemed to dissolve entirely. As if there was no meaning in this miserable life, as if happiness was to be one with the rabbits he had played with. (This is how it should be) — he thought. Until his body was absorbed entirely.

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The following morning, the rangers surrounded the territory around the young man's house under the pretext that it was in a state of disrepair. The residents were outraged, but the moment they were shown a certain identification document — all questions immediately dropped away and everything that was happening seemed perfectly natural.

Entering the house, the rangers removed their idiotic uniforms and looked at the bed, where all that remained of the young man was a corpse that appeared to have had every last drop of life drained out of it.

— What do you think, Doctor D?

— That he's dead! Don't ask such stupid questions, Zeta. Don't demean your already low IQ any further.

Zeta said nothing. He couldn't stand working with this pompous scientist, but HR always assigned them to the same unit, citing it as a decision from the bureau itself. That same Bureau of Anomaly Management. Who were they trying to fool? Zeta had been working in this organisation for seven years and knew perfectly well how little the bureau heads cared about matters of personnel assignment.

— Furthermore, from the state of the body it is evident that all fluids were extracted from it.

Oh really, Captain Obvious! When would he finally stop nursing his fragile ego and start presenting actual facts? When Zeta grew a beard?

— Did you give the victim that sheet of paper?

— Yes, sir.

— Well, now we'll find out how and why he died and which anomaly was involved. You always rush things!

The sheet of paper had been crumpled up and was lying in the wastepaper basket — which was an enormous lump of irritation in the scientist's throat. But all he needed to do was read its contents.