aliyn_raven | Entries tagged with riana's adventures

Story-6. The Love Hunt

"The shop will be closed on Sunday for the festival," Riana told her assistant Tracy, a pretty thirty-year-old brown-haired lady, on Friday. "So tomorrow morning we have to hang the shop's banners on the window panels. They'll be delivered later today and I'll send you pictures of how they should look in the contract with the manufacturer. Take the order and check that everything is correct."
Weekends were understandably the busiest time for trading, and the assistants had Wednesdays and Thursdays off, when virtually no one came into the antique shop. Riana sat behind the counter herself on those days, monitoring the market, doing bookkeeping, and editing commercials for the website.
But this Sunday is the parade, part of the annual Maypole Festival, and drunken idiots, petty robberies, and brawls are the inevitable result. Almost all the small shops and cafes close for the parade when there is zero trade and many problems. Fortunately, the rest of the festival is quite profitable, so persons from mini-businesses support it in every way.
Tracy nodded, and Riana said:
"The shop got four tickets to the Gala Centre from the advertisers who hang out on my site. Two of them are yours. You can invite that cute brunette you had such a nice conversation with near the display case with the yataghan last Sunday. That conversation had its consequences, didn't it?"
"No consequences," Tracy said sullenly. "And all my friends are only on social media. And there's no point in going to a show alone if there's no one to talk to about it while it's going on."
Riana raised an eyebrow. Tracy flirted with the brunette quite zealously; he himself looked decent: young, handsome, athletic, and tastefully dressed. And this is not a fool, if he has an interest in antiques; even if he is not rich, like all newly graduated postdocs—then he would soon get a research grant and thus his bun with jam. In other words, he is not the kind of man who tries to get money from his girlfriend.
"If there's something wrong with the client," Riana said, "I need to know."
"The client," Tracy emphasised, venomously and viciously, "is fine. He's just not a man. But for the chance to swing a yataghan in the backyard, he'll mention your shop in the foreword to his novel, you can bet."
Riana nodded. Normal potency and beauty do not always coincide. It is understandable why Tracy is so indignant. When you expect a night of pleasure and get only undischarged excitement, which must be urgently thrown off on the treadmill, you can be even more angry than that.
"There's always plenty of fish in the sea," Riana said comfortingly. "Soon there will definitely be..."
"How I hate that phrase!" Tracy interrupted angrily. "People stop appreciating each other. They don't value relationships. As soon as they see an obstacle, they immediately go where there won't be problems."
"Quite naturally. Obstacles are only good in video games. Well, also if you want to run through bushes and ditches in a paintball club."
"I'm not kidding! As soon as a man hears that I'm not ready for a love relationship, he disappears!"
"A reasonable reaction from a polite person." Riana was a little surprised that Tracy was so indignant. "When you will want a romance, you'll accept the offer or ask the guy you like out on a date yourself."
"And on a date he'll say "OK, let's go to bed!" And if I refuse, he'll call me a swindler!"
Riana smiled and replied:
"If you say along with the invitation that you only kiss on the second date and have sex on the third, then this will be part of an erotic game that many people like to play. And if the guy's tastes in bed are the same as yours, this will excite him. Or he will say "No," and you will start looking for a suitable option. There are billions of people in the world, and the choice is unlimited."
Tracy shook her head:
"Once upon a time, people achieved love. They waited for an answer for years. They walked under windows, called, sent letters, and courted. They followed their loved ones to all the parties and walks. And they reached reciprocity! Love was a precious reward. Now, if I call a guy twice in a row, he will call me a maniac! If I refuse a date, he will not win me over and prove his love because he is afraid of being accused of stalking! These days, it's all about sifting through options, as if people were a yoghurt display in a mall: pick the one you like and use it. If you get bored with this flavour, try another. No work. No need to cherish love and relationships. You are not a treasure."
"One amendment," Riana noted. "If a yoghurt can slap your hands, it is no longer a yoghurt but a person. But a treasure has no voice. No freedom of choice. A treasure can always be broken or sold. Throw it away. To become a treasure, you must first cease to be human. And the fate of those who fall into the hands of the winner is always a horror. You can ask the refugees about this."
"Oh, my God, that's not what I mean!" Tracy said indignantly. "This is not about violence! I'm saying that people... all people, not just men! No one strives to deserve and keep love."
"But love is not a sports trophy or a sales chart. It does not have to be deserved or kept. Your hormones either make fireworks and you are happy, or they are silent and then the person in front of you is not the one you want. Love is meant to be enjoyed, and if it causes problems, it is not love, but fake."
Tracy waved her hand in annoyance.
"Everyone says that! And it's catastrophe! "Someone didn't immediately accept your invitation to bed? Don't waste your energy on seduction; forget about this person; there are always plenty of fish in the sea." "Have your feelings for your love partner cooled? Don't waste your efforts on rekindling the flame; throw away what's boring; there's always plenty of fish in the sea." "Is your marriage complicated by quarrels? Get a divorce; don't waste time on grinding and compromises; there are always plenty of fish in the sea." This is the age of loneliness and total egoism! This is the time of unhappy people. No one values love, no one wants to become one with their loved ones, and no one works on relationships."
"Loneliness in a bad relationship is much worse," Riana said. "Ask the housewives of yesteryear who couldn't get a divorce and washed down their sedatives with alcohol. Their husbands did the same thing at work. Everyone is miserable. And many of those people are still alive."
She shook her head, "It's pure hell. But to become one with someone, to lose yourself, your personality, your uniqueness... It's frightening even to imagine. That's why a sane person would never break through a wall when there are open doors to happiness nearby. And with a fool, violence is inevitable".
Riana spread her hands, emphasising the lack of other options. And asked:
"But what do you want? A romance, or for someone else to prove your importance and value to you? Unless you are important and valuable to yourself first and foremost, no one else will find you important and valuable, not even for a penny. Or is it arousing for you to be a victim of violence? No problem, on BDSM sites you can find someone with whom you enjoy playing coercion according to pre-agreed rules, observing safety standards, and the ability to stop everything immediately if something becomes uncomfortable. If you want an asexual romance, there are plenty of fans of that too. But living without romances at all is just as normal. The main thing is to understand what you want and follow your desires."
"I want to go," Tracy said. "Right now."
Riana just shrugged and accepted her resignation. Working in an antique shop requires the ability to get along with people, and to do that you have to want to get along with yourself. A person who doesn't see the world because he collects his problems instead of solving them will be of no use to anyone, anywhere.
Tracy left. Riana sent an invitation for an internship to the local university. She didn't have to wait long; within an hour the university had sent CVs of several students who needed part-time work.
In the usual whirlwind of affairs, romances and friends, trips to flea markets around the world, and rest in stillness in a boarding house in nature, Riana did not notice how a year had passed. And in the midst of preparations for the next annual city festival, Riana received a call from an unknown woman, who introduced herself as a social worker and informed her about Tracy's funeral.
Riana didn't even immediately understand who they were talking about, and when she did, she gasped in horror.
"What happened to her?" Riana asked.
"Her phone contacts only included you and two other friends, and that was in a hidden directory. A police expert found it when he went through Tracy's things. She was hiding from her boyfriend in a women's shelter. There is a closed area for walks, but Tracy went outside to meet her ex. And he killed her."
"Oh no..." Riana muttered. "Poor little fool..."
"I understand that you weren't happy about her unwillingness to talk to you. Victims of destructive relationships always start their road to disaster by cutting off communication with friends. But women at the shelter can't leave until their tormentors get a court order. And if Tracy makes her final journey alone, that's not good. Her parents are not so much saddened by their daughter's death as they are angry about her bad behaviour; they see Tracy's death as a disgrace to the family. My experience tells me that there is a lot of domestic violence, at least verbal abuse and maybe beatings. The wife is intimidated; the husband decides everything. They may not even come to the funeral."
"I'll come," Riana said. "And please give me the shelter's bank account. I'll send them a donation."
Riana put the phone in her pocket and sighed sadly. All this was inevitable. The main rule of the hunt, even if it's a love hunt, is only one: the target will be destroyed. And whether it will be, mentally or physically, is a matter of chance. But you can avoid turning yourself into a victim, right?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52497217

Short sketches from the lives of a variety of people through the eyes of an ironic lady.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52497217
https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3370230/1/Riana-s-Adventures

Story-5. What can you see in the mirror?

Emil, thanks for the preliminary reading.

Riana is used to the fact that a sales assistant in an antique store is a position where employees change every two to three months. But the current salesman, Mark, when he quit, brought in not an unemployed postdoc, as usual, but a newly divorced housewife. Her name was Alice Palmer, and, according to Mark, her ex-husband was a zealous collector, and his wife kept all the documentation on his treasures. That's why Ms. Palmer has become a better expert than most professional appraisers.
Riana didn't argue. She carefully examined the candidate, and it became obvious that this was an extremely profitable acquisition.
"You did a good deed," Mark said. "Mr. Palmer left his wife after sixteen years of marriage."
Riana shrugged.
"Marriage is not an antique or a work experience, and every new day in it is not a plus but a minus because love is a perishable product and easily replaceable."
"That's right," Mark agreed. "But it is very difficult for someone who has been abandoned to realize this truth. Especially if you remain poor. Before the divorce, Mr. Palmer transferred part of the property to his mother and burdened the rest with debts so that Ms. Alice would not claim division and alimony. This is fraud, and on a large scale, based on the value of his property, but a court is needed to prove this. And in court, you need a good lawyer who costs much more than you can afford with unemployment benefits."
"Feminist organisations have many free lawyers," Riana noted.
"They are enthusiastic about protecting only poor women who are beaten by their partners. And the wife of a rich man, whom her husband abandoned without insults or assault, must take care of herself."
"That's fair," Riana replied. "There are plenty of lawyers who will work for the future percentage of whatever their client receives in the division of property in court."
"Palmer is not a fool; he understands that, having lost half of his fortune, if not more, he will no longer be needed by the young fairy, who now pleases him in every possible way, competing with other beauties for a lucrative boyfriend. Children will also not want to stay with their father, who has become less generous with money. And wherein there are many illegal migrants hanging on his neck who need to legalise their stay in the country. Additionally, they don't at all want to share their lover's pennies with his children. Moreover, this is all provided that Ms. Alice doesn't imprison her ex-husband for fraud."
"And work helps to overcome stress," Riana added. "Do you think I should take Ms. Palmer on my trips? Her job will be of little help to her, where she sits alone at the counter with a book almost all day and checks purchases on the website before the offline store closes. But then you have to find me an intern from the university who will sit behind the counter for free in exchange for professional practice."
"I'll try to do something. But it will be better if you make Ms. Alice learn website management, web design, and all sorts of market monitoring through AI. This is a difficult task for an ex-housewife who is far from young, and she will have no time to think about her grief while she is alone in the store. You may not even pay her a percentage of sales, but spend it on paying for courses. The main thing is that Ms. Alice has more difficult homework from different teachers."
"And she will find inspiration for a new life when she sees how her demand and value on the labour market have increased." Riana nodded. "No matter how you look at it, only work will never deceive or let you down."
…For the first two days, Ms. Palmer showed herself to be an excellent worker who knows how to talk a buyer into making a purchase. And on the morning of the third day, she broke the mirror—and this was not accidental.
"Sorry," Ms. Palmer said quickly. "I will bring a box in compensation; that costs even more."
"But this will not change the fact that you will see emptiness in all other mirrors," Riana noted. "Why don't you want to start building your own life? Now is just the right time for this."
"It's good to talk about building your own life when you are young and good-looking!" Ms. Palmer seethed. "And even if I return the money and children, I will still be useless trash."
"Youth and beauty are ways to please others. And I'm talking about creating your own life. You are so much more than your age and appearance. And the only real need is to be needed by yourself."
"It's good for you to reason!" Ms. Palmer became even more angry. "All loves and all people are easily replaceable only by young people. Now that you are in the prime of beauty, every man you meet falls at your feet. But not many years will pass, and you will become a void for everyone."
"Love is something that you do in between businesses. And a person is the business that he, she, or they are engaged in for their life. The business has no age, no appearance, and no gender. While you are busy with your own business, you are always so happy that you don't care about anyone else. And now no one and nothing is stopping you from doing what you always wanted to do but didn't dare because you were pleasing others."
"I always wanted a home and a family," Ms. Palmer said bitterly. "How can you do this without caring about others?"
"Well, what fool said there was only one family option?" Riana was surprised. "There are a lot of them. And this city is full of lonely, homeless children and old people. And in the foster system, there are always not enough people who want to become a family for someone, even for very decent municipal housing and the more than good money that they pay there."
"This is not a family!" Ms. Palmer was indignant.
"The family has many varieties. And only one of them needs a husband. Think about what you really want. And don't care what a bunch of stereotypical assholes think about your desires. The main thing is you and your desires. And teenagers don't need parents. They want friends, a good place in society, and at least a little understanding of their hormones. So it's time for you to think about yourself."
Riana put on a leather hat decorated with flowers from photographic films and left the store. The forecasters were calling for rain, but the park's rack sale was expected to take place no matter the weather.
On the way, she called several former assistants and asked them to find an employee for the store. "If I understand anything about people," thought Riana, "the place behind the counter will soon be free again."
But days passed, and Ms. Palmer continued to sit in the store. The only thing is that she stopped being afraid of mirrors. Riana once noticed Miss Palmer smiling triumphantly at her reflection.
Riana didn't ask how Ms. Palmer solved her problems, but she was glad that such a good salesperson remained in the store. Staff turnover is inevitable, however tiresome.
Ms. Palmer quit after six months.
"Now I'm ready to take my dream into my own hands," she said. And she added with a smile, "I will foster five children with cerebral palsy. I know very well what it feels like to be rejected because you don't look perfect. And I know what it's like to be unwanted. I want to help them overcome this. And I always wanted many children—as many as my body could create. But all the men who looked after me wanted only one child. Chris Palmer was the only one who agreed to the heir-and-spare option." She sighed. "Social services don't allow foster workers to take more than five children, and I decided to take those who are just as rejected by the world as I am. This is a conscious decision. I spent six months as a volunteer at a boarding school for children with cerebral palsy, and I know what awaits me. I accepted it and got ready."
"What about your first children?" asked Riana.
"They understood everything. Irene, having lived with her stepmother for a while, wanted to go to a boarding school that prepares students for admission to a good college of business. She decided to create part-time remote jobs and effectively manage passive income. She also wanted to be a housewife, like me, but life made adjustments. Irene realised that the most important thing for a woman is financial independence. And if a woman wants to take care of only the house and children, she should be able to do this, even if she doesn't and never will have a husband. I'm proud that Irene wants to make this a reality. And I will support her, no matter what the school, religious organisations, politicians, and other members of the public think about it. She and I really became close friends."
"Belief in oneself and determination are the best things a mother can give a child," said Riana.
"Yes," Ms. Palmer nodded. "Now I understand it. Therefore, my son has at his disposal a large mansard, garden beds, and the opportunity to create as many paintings from dried flowers as he wants. My husband thought it was stupid; I was a submissive wife… But now I think Ethan should try. Even if he is mediocre as an artist, Ethan will not regret that he missed the chance. He will check this option and make a decision based on the results. And I'm glad that Ethan chose me first among all his friends to discuss new ideas or the progress of a project."
"That makes sense," Riana agreed. "And judging by what you said about the attic, have you won the process of dividing property?"
"Oh yes," Ms. Palmer smiled contentedly. "The lawyer demanded payment for all the years of my work as a housekeeper, nanny, secretary, and salesman, plus compensation for late wages and a penalty for late compensation. The amount turned out to be even more than during the division of property. And if Chris had not agreed, then I would have started a fraud case. And Chris paid."
Riana laughed:
"You're right. Leaving your wife or husband is a normal part of life. But not sharing all jointly acquired property with ex-spouses is a crime."
"Yes. I also introduced Chris's new wife to one of your store's customers. And now Chris is going through a second divorce. I heard from my lawyer that this young lady is very practical and persistent, so she will not allow Chris to leave her before her new marriage without a good dowry."
"This is a very beautiful revenge!" Riana approved.
"Oh yeah!" Ms. Palmer replied proudly. And she said, "Now I have a big house, many children, and shares of a successful corporation. The only thing I regret is that I forgave Chris for his first adultery. And she forgave all things those who followed it. Our marriage ended when he first slept with another woman. It is stupid to endure emptiness and wait for the revival of feelings. 'Forgiving, enduring and waiting are exercises for a doormat.' And it is true. It was stupid to spend years maintaining a lie."
"What's done is done," Riana said. "But now you have the courage to make your dream come true. And give others a chance for their dreams."
"And I'm happy," Ms. Palmer said.

Short sketches from the lives of a variety of people through the eyes of an ironic lady.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52497217
https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3370230/1/Riana-s-Adventures

Story-4. Snail, Neural Networks And Whatever-You-Want

"Uncle Kevin," Riana said to the goodly old man who was sitting behind the counter, "Ms. Danver will bring the hand fan and reticule by three in the afternoon. If you take it, immediately take a photo and send it to me in Messenger."
This man was not her relative. They met when Riana bought a store from him. But it so happened that Riana called him "uncle," and he called her "Ri".
The world was changing, and even such a conservative business based on personal meetings as the antiquities trade moved online. And Kevin Wilson had a hard time mastering all this newfangled stuff. And travelling all over the world, looking for goods at swap meets and garage sales, is difficult too. Wilson sold the store and settled in a resort village on the southern seacoast. But it soon became boring. And the new owner of his store was looking for an assistant who could not only talk a visitor into buying but also evaluate the products. Wilson got a part-time job with Riana; he worked when she was traveling. This left enough time for rest and made him feel like a sought-after specialist, not a decrepit and useless dodderer.
Wilson worked the old-fashioned way, through personal communication with buyers and sellers, and all network affairs were handled by Riana. Successful division of labor. And Wilson liked the new design of the trading floor that Riana did: a very high-quality stylization of Dickens's books — namely, books — and not the real Victorian era. Furniture imitating these years and small, specially made and precisely calculated wear and tear created a feeling of homeliness. Only the bar stool behind the counter was modern, and visitors could not see it. And the cash register was hidden in a real Victorian jewellery box. Even light bulbs completely imitate gas lamps. Of course, there was modern, bright, shadowless lighting, but it was turned on for a few minutes if the buyer wanted to look at any product. But basically, it was an ideal, very realistic scenery that immersed the visitor in one of the most famous universes in the world. And this turned out to be a very cunning and effective commercial move, because in antique stores they buy not things but dreams.
Even the visualisation of the site was like a visit to a fairy tale.
And this fairy tale allowed the store not only to survive the COVID lockdowns without going broke but also to make a profit.
However, the world continued to change rapidly and irreversibly. Wilson was afraid of losing his job. It wasn't about the money at all. Wilson is wealthy enough to afford to live a comfortable life in a resort area with a housekeeper and a sick-nurse. But being a popular antiques consultant and playing bridge with old farts are two completely different things. Wilson didn't want to be a dodderer. Age doesn't matter. It all depends on what you do. But the rapid renewal of the world again threw Wilson to the roadside, took his life, and turned him into a worthless wreck of trash.
"Ri, you’re not a stupid girl," he said. "Aren't you scared of artificial intelligence? All these neural networks..."
"They are useful. And only idiots with the educational level of a snail talk about the fact that AI, NNs, and all that will take over the world or destroy humanity."
"Why did you decide that nothing threatens humanity?" Wilson became interested.
"There are many things that threaten humanity, but AI and NNs are not included in this list. Artificial intelligence, neural networks, and all other things in this area have no need for food and sex. They can't die. This means they don't have the instinct for intraspecific and interspecific competition for survival resources. Therefore, all these wunderstuff, of their own accord, do not move a single bit. And if you hear that somewhere artificial intelligence, a neural network, or a supercomputer have begun to destroy humanity, then they are controlled by a group of Homo Sapiens."
"So be it…" Wilson nodded. "But what about work? How many people will be on benefits? Not everyone can be a programmer. And where to get funds for benefits?"
"I'm afraid there will be a shortage of personnel in many areas," Riana smiled. "There will always be few neural network operators."
"So be it…" Wilson nodded. "But what about work? How many people will be on benefits? Not everyone can be a programmer. And where is the state budget to get funds for benefits?"
"I'm afraid there will be a shortage of personnel in many areas." Riana smiled. "There will always be a few neural network operators. And you don't need to be a programmer. It is enough to formulate the task. But it is also necessary for everyday life."
"Look!" Wilson turned the laptop towards her. "This advertising video was made in ten minutes by a neural network on the orders of one person. One hundred advertising agency workers lost their jobs."
Riana watched the video.
"The picture is beautiful, but the work itself is a failure. This was fine in the 1980s, but terrible now. Twenty-eight seconds is too long; people today think much faster. Viewers will get bored and change the channel without finishing the video. Repeated episodes are annoying and make you hate the advertised product. And finally, how are you going to get people to even notice this video? A person receives three thousand advertising calls per day — not all day; this is its active part; that's sixteen to eighteen hours of wakefulness. But a person notices no more than three of them. In other words, twenty-one advertising messages in a week out of many thousands reach the addressee. And only one of them arouses interest. Please note that this is not a decision to purchase a product or service, but just a passing interest in the message."
Wilson turned the laptop towards him. He preferred to watch news on the Internet; Wilson knew how to use it. And he didn't even forget to check news reports for accuracy. But it turned out that this was not enough to avoid being deceived.
"Ri, did you choose an antique store because it’s easier to advertise here? Lovers of antiquity are a small world where it’s easy to make a name for yourself."
"And additionally, travel is included in production expenses and is not taxed. You can fly to Japan or the Seychelles as many times as you like."
"That's true," Wilson smiled. "When I was your age, I was more on trips than in the store. Behind the counter sat another master of art history or anthropology."
He looked thoughtfully at the laptop screen.
"Ri, what are you doing with neural networks?"
"Design for the website. I keep track of fashion for vintage and antiques through open posts on social networks. I'm looking for communities and groups where it would be appropriate to chat about old things. People don't see advertising, but light chatter has a small chance. I make little funny essays about products in the store for my accounts."
"Is it true that artificial intelligence can write not only small essays but also large novels?"
"Yes." Riana grinned. "And the quality is no worse than ninety percent of the waste paper of all genres that bookstores are filled with. The difference is, Uncle Kevin, that if the novel was created by a neural network, you only get what you want. You just need to list your likes and dislikes and point to a real book as a stylistic example.And you will have a pornographic detective thriller in the sublime vocabulary of Immanuel Kant."
Wilson laughed. And Riana added:
"I don't like this reading matter, but it can be done. People were boasting on social networks fragments of such works. And this is not the limit. You can combine anything with anything. The problems start when you want to share your fantasies with the world and be heard by at least someone. Three thousand messages a day is not just about advertising."
"But to see your vague fantasies in ready-to-eat form and to enjoy devouring them — this is akin to a miracle. I want to make myself a full-length movie. Or at least a series of short episodes. After all, if they make an advertising clip, I can create a story."
"Uncle Kevin, they've been making them for a long time. These are not exactly movies, but full-length cartoons of any visual type, but this is precisely a real full-length work. At that, it's not kids entertainment but things with serious adult problems. You can order artificial intelligence to find sites and groups on social networks where people help each other formulate the right prompts. This is a set of commands for the neural network to make the product you need. Most likely, you will need to make blanks in several different neural networks and assemble them into the final form in another one."
"Show me where and how to start," Wilson said decisively. "Even though I have become stupid with old age, even if my studies will be very slow, but if the snail could reach the top of Mount Fuji (1), then I will someday make the movie that I have wanted to see since I was fifteen."
Riana showed the basics of working with the simplest and most popular neural network and left for the airport. Then began a series of trips and searches for goods, participation in auctions, hassles with delivering purchased items to customers, and many other matters.
And Wilson's statement of dismissal came as a bolt from the blue for her.
"I'm creating my own studio," he said. "We already have a team and a big project. All this requires a lot of time and good equipment, which I can't bring to your store.I will work for a month, as required by law, and I will help you find a new assistant. I still have many connections in the university environment. But I'm starting a new life, and I want to fully commit to this."
"Uncle Kevin, promise me that I will be the first viewer of your movie." Riana smiled. She may have more troubles than usual in the coming days, but the realisation of a loved one's dream and his revival is worth it, isn't it?
————
(1) Wilson hints at one of Japan's greatest poets, Kobayashi Issa (June 15, 1763 - January 5, 1828), and his "Snail" haiku. This poem has become widely known all over the world; there are many translations. My favourite is the one by Eri Takase:
Snail
ever so slowly climb
Mt Fuji
The translation by Asataro Miyamori is not so poetic and not literal, but it conveys the meaning more accurately: "A simple snail making its way up… the tallest mountain in Japan!"

Short sketches from the lives of a variety of people through the eyes of an ironic lady.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52497217
https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3370230/1/Riana-s-Adventures

Story-3. Can a genius clean?

When her ex-lover from university days entered Riana's store, she whistled.
"Why did you become a drug addict?" Riana said instead of a greeting.
The man twitched indignantly, but more fearfully. He was sure that he looked great: a fresh and fashionable suit, a good haircut. And said:
"You became a salesperson in an antique shop? This is an improvement over the fast food stall where all the philosophers find haven."
Riana made herself more comfortable on a high bar stool, which allowed her to sit rather than stand behind the showcase counter, and said:
"You missed, dear. I am the owner of this store. So why did one of the best, if not the best, physicists of our time become a junkie?"
"Why did you..."
Riana interrupted with a grin:
"Steve, I buy not only antiques but also vintage. Two out of ten of those who bring goods for appraisal are drug addicts. These are long-time stoners offering things stolen from old women, and newcomers selling off inheritances. I don't want to go to jail for an illegal transaction, and I quickly learned to recognise a drug addict at first glance. By the look of you, I'd say you're raising money for an anonymous clinic. I approve of the decision to undergo treatment, but I cannot understand how you, a scientist and a genius, got hooked on the needle."
"It's not a needle," Steve said quickly. "I wanted to stop being a genius but not turn into an animal. This is cough syrup. A full liqueur glass was washed down with the same amount of brandy. And you get a state of slight lethargy for the whole day. Your brain no longer solves the problem of studying quantum mechanics, but it still doesn't confuse a door with a window."
"Cough syrup?" Riana didn't believe it.
"It contains psychotropic substances. They lull the cough centre in the brain if the cough is dry. In half of the cases of illness, the person doesn't have mucus in the lungs that needs to be removed, and the cough only injures the throat. Then it must be turned off through the brain. The dose of the psychotropic is so small that it is harmless even to an infant, and cough syrup is sold without a prescription. But it's not for nothing that a small measuring spoon and a note are placed in a box with medicine, demanding that you strictly adhere to the dosage. Moreover, such drugs are prohibited from being combined with ethanol."
"Well, why do you need this?"
"I wanted to be happy," Steve said. "Nobody needs geniuses, and everyone likes a fool."
"Not true!" Riana was indignant. "I fell in love with you only through your mind."
"And you ran away a month later."
"I ran away from your life plans, not from your superintelligence or your obsession with science. The prospect of becoming a housewife with a dozen children is not for me."
"And I found a girl who wants to be a housewife!" Steve exclaimed. "And he wants a lot of children. At the same time, she is not a religious fanatic, but a normal person, she has free, modern views on life, and a calm attitude towards those who want to live differently. She wants a big family for herself and doesn't seek to force everyone else to do so. She's okay with sex, too. There is no nonsense about saving yourself until marriage. She says that if you want a lot of children, you need to find someone with whom it is pleasant to make them and should go to the altar only after amazing orgasms."
"And you, out of joy that you met the woman of your dreams, began shooting up yourself at all sorts of lousy?" Riana asked sarcastically.
Steve collapsed into a visitor's chair and buried his face in his hands.
"She is incredibly stupid. It's like a frying pan talking to you. But my god, she is so cheerful and happy! She always sparkles with the life that I never had. This is a new, fabulous, heavenly world. However, to enter there and be with her, I must become like her. Brainless. I took the syrup, quit my job at the research centre, and now work as a gas station operator. And everything immediately improved in my personal life."
"Why so many unnecessary difficulties?" Riana was surprised.
"Because I can’t be silent with her all the time! I have to listen to what she says and answer her. I need to watch all these degenerate TV shows with her. Laugh at the jokes of her stupid friends. Oh my God... They are unbearable. But when I'm on syrup, it all becomes wonderful. I'm having fun, I have a lot of wonderful and kind-hearted buddies, I love the best girl in the world, and she agrees to be my wife. I will have a family. I am not a loner, rejected by everyone. And don't tell me to find a smart wife! No smart woman would want more than one, maximum two children! And generally, half of smart women are childfree. And I want a house full of children!"
"As for the connection between stupidity and having many children, the thesis is dubious," said Riana. "If you look at women with many children, among them there will be professors, top-level business people, and successful politicians. But I’m wondering, why do you think your bride is a fool? I see only wise judgements and actions."
"She's practical," Steve said, sitting up straighter in his chair. "But it is not intellect."
"And this comes from a drug addict who has cluttered up his life so much that he doesn't see a door in it."
"Door?" Steve didn't understand.
"Our life is a house in which there are many rooms. And if you want to live happily, you need to arrange everything that life consists of in different rooms and not dump everything into one so that there is no room left even for yourself."
"Is it possible without metaphors?" Steve got angry. "Are philosophers able to speak clearly?"
"Carrying work home is extremely impolite towards both home and work. And all psychologists say that for the best functioning of the mind it is necessary to work no more than eight hours a day, and the rest of the time need to be devoted for sleep, visits to the gym and relaxation with the most stupid, turning off the brain shows and conversations."
"Psychology is a fraud, not a science!" Steve seethed.
"Yes, this is fraud. But when a fraudster says chamomile tea and raspberry jam will cure your cold, he or she isn't lying."
Steve wanted to say something, but Riana interrupted:
"Have you been tested for genetics? Your lover of hyperprolific wants healthy children. But who will you make for her?"
Steve recoiled. And Riana said:
"Something went wrong with the syrup. Does your liver hurt? Or is there blood in the urine?"
"Lack of dose. The syrup has stopped working. I tried to increase the portion, but it all ended with vomiting. I told Ginny that I was leaving for two days and decided to do without the syrup in order to wean myself off and start all over again... But withdrawal symptoms began. And I bought meth from a pusher on the street... I didn't accept it. More precisely, I took very little, just to stop everything. And I found a clinic. But Ginny... If the treatment lasts longer than two weeks, she will find out, and she will guess... And will leave me. She hates drunks and junkies!"
"Do you love her?" asked Riana. "Or is she a convenient household appliance for you with the additional option of an incubator?
"You loved me. But you quit instantly."
"The number of loves in life is infinitely huge. And therefore, you can replace one love with another easily, quickly, and free of charge. But there is only one life. And if it is damaged, then restoration will be long, difficult, and expensive."
"There are always a lot of fish in the sea, aren't there?" Steve said it angrily.
"So do you love Ginny, or should you catch another love?"
"I don’t know," he sighed. "I'm happy with her for the first time. But I cannot stand even a moment with her without syrup."
"How do you like the syrup without her?"
"No!"
Riana nodded.
"Then ask her to help with distributing things into rooms. No doubt, she's doing a perfect job with it. And Ginny will take great care of the profitability of your patents. In order to make money from your brilliant discoveries, she doesn't need to understand science; it's enough to be a good hostess. And children, if you haven't forgotten, are a very expensive pleasure."
"What?!" Steve twitched. "I can’t tell her the truth!"
"I understand that tech people have an extremely limited vocabulary, but you are taught to understand the difference between truth and true from the first days of your first year."
"What are you talking about?"
"The true: You were depressed and afraid to go to the doctor, and when you met Ginny, out of fear of losing her, you became even more nervous and began taking legal over-the-counter sedatives yourself; you constantly increased the dose of the medicine until problems began. The true: You want to be treated, you want to be with her, and you want to put your confused life in order. The true: There is a risk that you are now prohibited from conceiving children, but you are not against adopting them."
Steve twitched again, but Riana beat him to it:
"If you real want a big family and don't strive to kill your wife with unnecessary births, then you can't do without foster children. Well, do you want a big family?"
Steve thought and said:
"I don't want her to suffer. I don't want her to feel pain. Even if all the children are adopted."
"O.K." Riana nodded. "Then let's continue. The next true: Your children and grandchildren, whether your own or adopted ones, may turn out to be geniuses, and only another genius can teach them how to live happily with this. The true: First you need to learn to live life yourself and not flush it down the toilet bowl." Riana looked at Steve with irony: "And how does all this contradict the truth that you jumped into shit yourself and wanted to get out of it on someone else's back without making any effort of your own?"
"I hate you," Steve muttered.
"I don't care. Do you sell your junk or treat drug addiction through a free government programme?"
"I don't know."
"The trouble with your Ginny," said Riana, "is that she is kind and unselfish. Avid bitches, having the educational and intellectual level of an amoeba, use geniuses as a source of money and a pass to social parties, leaving them with a bare bottom in a divorce, but the geniuses are happy with them."
"What kind of money is there in science?" Steve was indignant. "We are financed on a residual basis."
"If you can't profit from scientific discoveries, this does not mean that others cannot. Management is a different type of activity. If you haven't forgotten, I entered the Faculty of Philosophy only because there was no money for economics and especially for business school. And philosophy cost me a handful of copper coins. However, I studied the philosophy of the market. I wasn't the only one who was so cunning, but the teachers who loved to wander into the philosophical empyrean wanted to sit on a relatively decent salary. And they were deathly afraid of the closure of the Faculty of Philosophy due to the lack of students, and therefore they pretended that everything was planned that way. But you can be a good dealer even without having an A-level school."
Steve muttered something that sounded like a curse. Riana laughed.
"It's time for cleaning. Come back when you're done. I will help you choose a wedding gift for the bride."
Steve shot her an angry look and ran out into the street. Riana snorted and opened the series on her laptop.

Short sketches from the lives of a variety of people through the eyes of an ironic lady.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52497217
https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3370230/1/Riana-s-Adventures

Story-2. The Imaginary Bridge to Real Joy

"When I was a young and lovely girl who, instead of catching an advantageous husband, was searching for modern urban myths, I told everyone who reproached me for being unreasonable that in my old age I would watch TV-series without interference, gossip about the actors with other old women on the phone, and order the nurse at the nursing home to bring me juice. And after me, I will leave this world a legacy for an animal shelter. And she added that the nurse and the boarding house would be interested in my good mood and, especially, longevity, much more than any children and grandchildren, because they receive my money only while I am alive and not by will."
The old lady laughed cheerfully.
"Now I play video games, and it's much more interesting than television series. I hang out on player forums where age doesn’t matter, so I’m always twenty-one." The old lady smiled slyly, showing that she is well aware of the rating of fan fiction and can be a guide among a considerable number of juicy works. "And an apartment with AI, equipped specifically for the elderly and disabled, is much better than a nurse. And no one encroaches on my time or attention. I only do what I want."
Riana laughed in response.
"You've made an excellent life for yourself, Ms. Crane."
They were sitting in a small, cosy living room, outside of which there was a beautiful view of the city. Some people don’t like urban landscapes, but Riana thought they were energizing. Old Lady Crane clearly had the same tastes. Riana smiled and said:
"Your life is perfect not because it is better than others, but because it suits you best."
"Exactly. I understand that someone is happy with a dozen grandchildren and a dozen dozen of great-grandchildren, but this is their choice. And I enjoy my decision."
"And you deserve it, Ms. Crane. I understand how difficult it was in those years to preserve your real self, not to break yourself to please the crowd."
"Yes, it wasn't easy. And at times I was very scared."
"Unfortunately, it's still very scary," said Riana. "The world has become a little smarter and more diverse, but only a little. He still hates everything and everyone who doesn't fit into the long-outdated mold. Alas, life is not a social network; it is impossible to ban vile people there."
"But you can mentally create a wall between yourself and unpleasant people. Tall and thick, through which you can't hear or see anything," Crane advised.
"It doesn't help if you have to do business with vile people. And this happens often in non-digital life."
"Then imagine yourself as a spy like James Bond. Or a superheroine like Lara Croft. You need to save your friends from the enemy's camp."
"What?!" Riana was amazed.
Crane smiled.
"Only small children have imaginary friends, but it is considered absurd for adults. But childhood is the most terrible part of life, filled with a lack of freedom, injustice, and powerlessness. There is a hugely interesting world around, but adults don't let us use it; they force him to do all sorts of dull things and eat tasteless food. When we grow up, we understand that our parents and teachers were often right, but since childhood, we have survived in the camp of enemies. And imaginary friends helped us not to go crazy."
"I think I'm starting to understand," Riana said thoughtfully. "It's a bit like how people who have experienced the loss of a loved one are advised to volunteer at a shelter for the disabled. When you are dealing with the problems of others, there is no time to think about your own suffering."
"And all the soldiers say that you have more courage when you fight not only for yourself but also for a friend." Crane smiled. "Even if friends are imaginary, this doesn't mean that they are not real. How many thoughts and feelings do we give to the characters of films, books, and video games?"
"These are all crutches," said Riana. "But you can go with them. This is better than sitting and waiting for the abomination to deign to disappear."
"And the last bonus: imaginary friends help you break toxic connections in the real world faster and easier. You are not afraid of loneliness. And without hesitation, you leave those friends, spouses, and lovers who have become unpleasant or at least boring. Life is too precious to waste on those who create problems. But at the same time, life is not dimensionless. In order for there to be room for good in it, you must first throw out all the bad. And imaginary friends will willingly help you with cleaning."
"In any case," Riana decided, "this method is worth trying. We are still forced to make the good out of the bad because that is all we have got to make it out of."
"It takes a lot of manure to grow flowers," Crane agreed with her.
And Crane wrote Riana a check for a charity fund that paid for the education of talented children from low-income families in good boarding schools.
Riana smiled. Volunteering has often been beneficial not only for the Universe but also for Riana herself. And it was confirmed again today.

Short sketches from the lives of a variety of people through the eyes of an ironic lady.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52497217
https://www.wattpad.com/user/Aliyn_Raven

Story-1. Marital Bliss And Piglet

Riana has always been a clever girl, and she realized one of the foundations of being even at her tender childhood age: "The most important organ of almost all people is the butt. People think, watch, read, write, work and make any choice from small to fateful with the help of the butt. They love each other and children are also raised through the butt, for the most part. So it makes no sense to wonder why so many people's lives are drowning in shit".
Riana grew up, turning from a little girl with violet eyes and red pigtails into a thirty-five year old lady with an elegant haircut; her fiery hair colour darkened to mahogany, but the people remained the same.
And yet, the stupidity of others is not as horrifying as it seems.
The main thing is not to forget for yourself — the head is needed not only to eat with help of it and wear a hat on it.
In addition, it would not be possible to get a chic hat for yourself without a well-functioning head, and Riana loved them very much.
She also loved cookies, antiques, and adventure.
Alas, both that, and the second, and the third are expensive, and if you also add hats, then you won’t see happiness in life.
But if the head is used for its mental purpose, then you can become the owner of an antique store, and then all three delights will become tax-free business expenses.
And even cookies, when consumed correctly, do not harm your body. But they help very well in purchasing goods for the store.
Unfortunately, the search and acquisition of cute antiques, an extremely pleasant activity, was inevitably accompanied by chatter about outrageous nonsense with butt-handlebar persons.
And now the garage sale organizer was complaining about her terrible husband. Why the hell does this lady even live with someone who doesn't suit her, Riana didn't ask — butt-handlebar persons aren't capable of solving such complex issues.
But, as folk wisdom says, if a woman has no worries, then she either quarrels with her husband or buys a piglet. Considering that keeping pigs in such a suburb is prohibited, Riana advised her interlocutor to buy a papillon or a poodle — there are no fewer worries with a long-haired dog.
"But you definitely need to train the dog to participate in the competition for performing tricks," Riana added. "It's called 'agility'. The prize will bring a double benefit: it will decorate your living room and stop quarrels with your husband."
The lady stared at Riana in complete stunnedness, and Riana fixed her with the confident gaze of an expert on the universe, without whose mastery it is impossible to run an antique business. Of course, this lady will quarrel with her husband much less for the simple reason that fussing with a pet will force her to spend a lot of time outside her husband's society.
But since a butt-handlebar master could become a danger to an innocent and defenseless animal, Riana added:
"It's better to start with courses for dog owners. Before buying a puppy. Without preparation, you will ruin everything."
Riana didn't meet this lady for the next year. And in early December, when the Christmas rush of garage sales began and Riana came to this town again, she saw this lady proudly walk in the town square in the company of a charming white Spitz and a handsome companion, who, as Riana knew for sure, was not the same "terrible husband" of this lady.
The lady saw Riana and went straight to her.
"I'm writing a book about the role of dogs in a woman's life," the lady said, barely saying hello. "Will you help with editing? I will definitely give you one copy of the book. No, even three copies, so you can please your friends."
"I'm afraid I have absolutely no time." Riana smiled sweetly. "After all, I am the owner of a very difficult store, always in business. But I can advise you to those who aren't particularly busy and will willingly help you."
And Riana took out her phone and began writing a message to one of the customers: her elderly mother regularly tore the brains of the whole family, demanding from them perfect literary talks. For a break from her mother, the buyer will owe Riana a meeting with a very profitable, unsociable collector who didn't communicate with anyone without recommendations.

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