There was a finger-thick black line across a crowded pedestrian zone. Everyone who touched it was shot but exceeding was allowed. There was no reason for the line except some personal benefits of some unknown people. Many persons were shot: children who touched the line were executed actually with their parents who didn’t do so, dog owner with their dogs which sniffed at the line, women with too long skirts or even people who broke down on it.
There was no attempt to solve the danger. The deads were guilty and nobody cared about.
One day there was a glowing man who hit the line. He craved for mercy and said he was the personal guardian angel of the mankind. But the riflemen didn’t care about it and shot their angel.
The next day the line was a fissure which got bigger and bigger, the bottom was glaring red, songs of the damned were heard but the humans didn’t care about it and went straightforwards to hell. During their fall they thought about things like:
— Am I in time?
— What shoe-color has my best friend?
— Why do I fall? There was a ground. It mustn’t change.