Savepoint of Second Hill

She looked at the people in the carriage again. For them, life was ordinary. For them, there was nothing they could change. But for her, it was different. She was not just a doll, she was the one who could break the strings. The one who could break this illusion and give everyone, even herself, a chance to be real.

"I have to find him," she thought, and a word flashed through her mind, which she so strangely perceived as a kind of mission: "Antichrist! I will defeat you!" she whispered.

As the train began to slow, Delia Asia Vieira felt her heart, although artificial, respond to this realization. She was no longer just a machine. She was something much more important.

"I will find him and defeat him!" Her determination grew stronger with every step.

Soon the train stopped and the doors swung open. Delia Asia Vieira stepped out onto the platform, feeling her feet finally on the ground she was meant to explore. She took a few steps down the platform, her gaze sliding over the crowd of passengers hurrying to the exits. She felt a strange mixture of anxiety and confidence. This world she had once considered unchangeable was now something else to her - something she could change if she found the answers.

She stopped, looking around. There were people around her who had no idea what was going on in her head. They were going about their daily business as usual, immersed in unknown concerns. For them, this world was obvious and familiar, as if they had no idea that everything around them could be an illusion. For Delia Asia Vieira, this world was a farce, a carefully constructed set, behind which an unknown force was hidden. And in order to destroy this illusion, she needed to find someone who could control it.

"Antichrist..." the word sounded in her head like a spell, but she didn't fully understand what exactly it meant.

She only knew that this was her path, her mission. To find him. And to conquer him. Suddenly, her attention was drawn to a small group of people standing at the edges of the platform, discussing something resurrected from the past. Their conversation was discreet and quick, but Delia Asia Vieira immediately sensed that there was something strange in their voices. Fear? No. More like doubt and anticipation. Although their words did not directly concern her, something in their manner of communication caught her attention.

"So, have we come to an agreement with the supplier?" asked the man in the formal suit, stroking his chin.

"Yes, the juices will arrive on time," the woman answered, checking some documents on her tablet. "Next week they should bring fresh orange juice for the big chains. We need to prepare space in the warehouse."

"Good. We will also need to discuss the delivery of apple juice, they promised us discounts for the new contract. Everything should be on time."

"What about the lemon? We didn't have time for that this month?" another person intervened, a man with casually combed hair and a leather jacket.

"Lemon will be a little late, but that's okay. All the lots will be delivered next week. We know about it."

Delia Asia Vieira seemed oblivious to these people and their conversations, but something in their actions and voices sounded like an echo. They continued to discuss their work, and she was too absorbed in her thoughts to perceive it as ordinary reality. To them, it was just a conversation about fruit juice; to her, it was words that her algorithms responded to but could not find meaning.

Delia Asia Vieira got out of the metro and walked down the street, lost in her thoughts. People hurried past her, rushing about their business, not paying attention to her. She did not see them, did not hear their conversations. Her whole being was focused on one point - on thinking about what to do with this Antichrist, whom she had to find and defeat. But the answer was too vague, as if this thought was wrapped in a thick veil that could not be torn apart. Why did she have to defeat him? Why was it important? She could not find an answer to these questions.

Her steps became more and more mechanical. She seemed to be wandering in this world where nothing seemed real. The crowd around her moved like a whirlpool, pushing her forward, in this stream of faces and bodies. She walked without a goal, her legs moving automatically, and her mind slipped into the void, unable to find the right words or solutions.

Suddenly, a car horn blared from around the corner. Delia Asia Vieira shuddered, stopping. She was standing under a tall tree, with its many branches that hid a piece of the sky. The leaves rustled in a light wind, creating a feeling of peace that was in sharp contrast to her inner state. She tried not to think about what was happening around her, trying to focus on her restless mind.

But as soon as her attention returned to what was happening, a huge truck suddenly stopped in front of her. Its metal walls reflected the dim light of the street lamps, and its powerful wheels seemed to belong not to this reality, but to something much darker and heavier.

Several people jumped out of the truck. Their figures stood out in the night light. They were dressed in formal tailcoats or chitons, as if their clothes had been brought from the distant past. A strange sight. But Delia Asia Vieira did not pay much attention to it. The people were talking among themselves, taking turns glancing at the newspapers they were holding in their hands. Strange. It seemed that these people were not there by chance.

"I see, the puzzle is simple. This one is not difficult," said one of them, turning the paper over in his hands.

"Too obvious," the other replied, still looking at the newspaper. "The task was much more complicated, and it doesn't seem so simple."

Then their conversation smoothly moved to another question, no less absurd:

"What was our national idea?" asked one of them after a short silence.