Oleh Lafoks
In the ship’s log, I usually appear as Oleg Lafoks.
My current address, from broad to narrow: the observable universe, the Laniakea Supercluster, the Local Group, the Milky Way, the Orion Arm (or Orion Spur, if the navigator is strict), the Solar System, the third planet from a yellow dwarf, the continent of Eurasia, its western peninsula, which by an old terrestrial habit is called Europe, Berlin.
In Berlin I somehow ended up working with Alisa Lafoks. That is how Darwin’s Cat appeared: Alisa writes, sings, and extracts signs of intelligent life from the guitar, while I play bass, do sound production, and take responsibility for heavy objects, which for some reason almost always turn out to be amplifiers, cabinets, or boxes full of cables.
Above all of this stands Loki Lafoks. Formally, he is a cat. In practice, he is a dictator and artistic director. Everything goes according to his plan. We do not argue: he has claws and a strong negotiating position.
Bass, recording, and heavy gear can be physically tiring, so I switch to programming: I build small audio utilities in Sound Utils. It is a different mode of thinking: less noise, more logic, and still orbiting music. Besides, ordinary work is not that different from being a flight engineer on a spaceship.
It should also be said: I love bass guitars. Especially black and blue ones. I treat green and pink ones with suspicion. I do not trust green guitars. White ones are theoretically acceptable, but only with four strings. A white five-string bass? Come on.
Traveling across the Galaxy is not really happening yet: I am a bit stuck in Berlin. So I make small trips around Europe instead. The hardest thing on the road is getting proper sleep. But I have a secret, and I will share it with you: if you need to sleep on a spaceship while the engines are running, just use earplugs. I use this technique on trains, planes, and buses.
I do not have a television. I never managed to master this complicated device of the local inhabitants. Books and music make more sense to me.
I do not have favorite films either, for roughly the same reason. According to the generally accepted values of the Galaxy, voluntarily corroding one’s own brain with informational junk is a crime against oneself and others. So do not look for me on social media. Yes, I post there, but as a matter of principle I do not read anything there.
In nonfiction, the books that resonate with me are Brian Greene — Until the End of Time, David Graeber — Debt: The First 5,000 Years, Richard Dawkins — The Selfish Gene, James Gleick — Chaos: Making a New Science, Carl Sagan — Cosmos, Carl Sagan — The Demon-Haunted World, Yuval Noah Harari — Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind, Yuval Noah Harari — Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow, Yuval Noah Harari — 21 Lessons for the 21st Century, and Yuval Noah Harari — Nexus. And when I want just a little realism — yes, that is sarcasm — I reach for Vernor Vinge — A Deepness in the Sky, Vernor Vinge — A Fire Upon the Deep, Robert Heinlein — Starship Troopers, Robert Heinlein — The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress, Andy Weir — Project Hail Mary, Andy Weir — Artemis, Isaac Asimov — Foundation, and Arthur C. Clarke — Rendezvous with Rama.
A separate joy: date fruit. It is suspiciously rare in this part of the Galaxy, but sometimes it still materializes in Berlin shops. I do not rule out smugglers from Sirius. Though the cosmic currents theory also seems workable.
