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The Principle of Complexity is one of the basic elements of the Triad, the "pillars of the world". He assures that even the Full Conscience that generates the Universes on the Physical Plane also evolves and is part of a hierarchy. The expansion of a Full Consciousness on the Physical Plane (i.e. the creation of a Universe) generates individual consciousnesses, which over aeons will eventually evolve into Demi-Conscience (which manifest on the Physical and Mind planes but do not generate Universes) or for new Full Conscience. In fact, Full Conscience ceases to exist from the moment of its "subdivision", manifesting its Will through individual consciousnesses. As each Universe is a closed and infinite system in its internal structure, the individual consciences will be protected by the primordial shell of Full Conscience until they reach an evolutionary stage that allows them to have an independent existence. Read more in Volume 4 of the series, TRIAD.

According to the principles of Kalc Hermeticism, a Universe is "created", that is, it manifests itself on the Physical Plane, from a Full Conscience that resides on the Plane of the Mind. The process of "creation" is nothing more than the subdivision and subsequent expansion of self-conscious parts of this Full Conscience and which manifest themselves on the Physical Plane in the form of matter. The individual mind is a bridge between the Physical Plane and the Plane of the Mind. When the physical body dies, i.e., exhausts its finite resources, its partial consciousness migrates to another available vessel that vibrates at a similar frequency. Eventually, the Full Conscience does not split. It can generate physical manifestations but they are unstable and without substance. Scholars of Kalc Hermeticism believe that it is a punishment imposed on a Full Conscience through superior and hitherto unknown structures. Read more details in Volume 3 of the series, KALC.

Lyra is a stable Type I Universe. It is the oldest Universe catalogued in the Hyperon Universes Database (HUD), with an estimated age of 4 trillion years. As a consequence, Lyra is losing its sub-atomic cohesion, and the matter will cease to exist sometime in the next thousand years. The planet Lyra is ruled by the House of Khor, a 25,500-year-old bloodline. Lyra society is based on Positivist ethics: Peace and Progress as tools for social stability. The first line of the Constitution of Lyra reads: "It is the duty of every citizen of Lyra to pursue happiness unceasingly." Read more details in Volume 2 of the series, VOLKOV

Tharelia ("The Land of Thar") is a planet located in the Type I Tharelian Stable Universe. The planet was named after Thar the Elder, the Unifier of the Three Tribes and founder of the Erlah Church. The planet has 3 main continents: Nopah (Capital: Yontah) Erlah (Capital: Erinah) Surnah (Capital: Surnarah) The three tribes, now called the Erlah, Surnah and Nopah, developed independently and in relative peace. But the Nopah culture's emphasis on materialism, hedonism, and technology, coupled with the warlord tradition of Surnah and the endemic corruption and undermining of the Erlah Church, brought tensions between the great nations. The Thar Shvar, or "the Soul of Thar", is celebrated on the 20th day of the 10th month. The holiday is observed almost all over the planet, with meditation, dinners and the exchange of gifts. Given the prospect of depleting natural resources and the current scenario of overpopulation on the planet, the Nopah military and civilians created Project Hyperon 60 years ago. The Project aims to create an escape route for less than 10% of the Tharelian population by seeking out Parallel Universes with suitable planets to harbour Tharelian physiology. Read more details in Volume 1 of the series, HYPERON.

Kvashin's Colony Great Narah, Tharelia Tharelian power plants are gigantic structures hundreds of meters high. For safety reasons, the area around them is kept clear of houses and roads. Despite that, it's always occupied by boys playing football. Tharelian football is played with a team of 6. There is no goalkeeper, and the goal is a circular hoop 10 feet in diameter. The ball is lighter and the game is more concentrated on long-distance kicks than on the players' melee. Despite being 7 years old, Gunthar is a strong boy who helps his parents in the fields after returning from school. The family owns a vast estate in Kvashin Colony that was inherited from their ancestors. The land, which produces wheat and has a sheep farm, has always been a symbol of wealth and prosperity for the family, but over time it has lost productivity and importance. But Gunthar's only concern at the moment is the ball. He receives a pass from his teammate and shoots towards the rim. The ball goes through the goal. - EEEEHH! Gunthar!!! His teammates hug him. But Gunthar listens to a distant voice that he would rather not hear now. - Gunthar! Let's go! His mother Larthari is a typical Orthodox Erlah, with her black haji on her head and a long-sleeved black dress. - Oh, mother! - Come on, Gunthar! Let's have lunch! The boy takes his things and says goodbye to his classmates. - I told you not to play ball next to the plant! This polluted air... - The teacher said that the air is bad everywhere. - Yes, but here it is much worse. Look at your uniform, all dirty! Gunthar slaps his pants but can't get the dust stains off. The pants are almost tearing at some points thanks to the falls on the field. After a half-hour walk, they arrive at the farmhouse. Your father Dorthar and grandmother Elthari are waiting for him. Dorthar wears a long beard and sideburns that strictly adhere to Orthodox precepts. Elthari makes the final arrangements for the food. Larthari and Gunthar enter. Elthari looks at him. - What a dirty boy! Go wash your hands before sitting at the table! Larthari helps Elthari to put the dishes on the table. - He was playing ball again. - Leave it. At least have some fun. Gunthar returns and everyone settles down at the table. The boy opens one of the pots. The father looks at him reproachfully. - Gunthar! How do we do it? He closes the pot again and lowers his head. Dorthar begins his prayer. - In the beginning, Nazhdar was all there was. The Guardians of Time created the land and sea. The swallow flew and the first man woke up. May Thar de Narah bless this table and enlighten our spirit. All repeat: - Thar Shvar. Gunthar finally attacks the pot and helps himself to the boiled meat with vegetables. Dorthar comments. - This morning, another sheep was dead. The springs dried up all south of the property. The rest of the water we have now is contaminated. And that plant, the pollution... Larthari takes a deep breath. - By Thar of Narah, how long? Elthari looks at her. - The Ashtar commented on the Sedrah that Nopahs are fleeing to this new world, Blue. Dorthar laughs wryly. - Yes, the Nopahs are always the first to jump ship. No surprise. Larthari looks at him. - I know some Erlahs that are also getting this pass, Dorthar. Her mother looks at her reproachfully. - But what do you want? Abandon everything? Our lands, the work of your ancestors? - Mom, it won't take long and we'll start starving here. We barely sell our wheat, and livestock is only for milk and our food. - Time to roll up your sleeves, my daughter! We can sell cheese to the city, even bread! Dorthar shakes his head. - In Erinah, people today only consume industrialized products imported from Nopah. They turn up their noses at what we do here. Larthari looks at her husband. - Dorthar, I'll talk to Ashtar. Who knows he doesn't have some contact? Someone who can bring us a good proposal for the farm? Dorthar nods, sighing. Kvashin's Sedrah Larthari enters Sedrah. The Ashtar, with a long beard and wearing a black hat and robes, lights candles on an altar. - Thar Shvar, Ashtar. - Thar Shvar, Larthari. - Ashtar, I need your help. It's about the farm. - In fact it's actually about Blue, right? - Yes, Ashtar. I want a better life for our family. No more counting dead animals and lost crops. - Are you sure of your decision, Larthari? - Yes, I have. - I know someone who can help you. - Thank you very much, Ashtar. Thar Shvar. - Thar Shvar, Larthari. Kvashin's Colony The broker talks to Dorthar and Larthari at the table. - The initial proposal is 50 thousand tharions. But Tharelian money is worthless in Blue. We'll secure your teleportation plus £5,000 for expenses. Dorthar shakes his head. - This is a misery! This property is worth at least one million tharions! - No one would pay that ammount on an estate in The Great Narah today, Dorthar. Be realistic. And more: this transfer is not official. There is no open immigration policy on the part of the Erlah government at this time. So consider yourselves privileged. - And I bet there's a lot of bribery to be paid, of course. - Like everything else in Erlah, Dorthar. Starting with the Church. Larthari presses her lips together. - Yes, the Ashtar. What's his percentage? The broker gets up. - I have nothing more to say about it, Larthari. I'll be back tomorrow with the paperwork to be signed. Yemith Shvar. The man withdraws. Larthari looks at Dorthar, who rubs his hands over his face in despair. Kvashin's Sedrah Larthari walks towards the Ashtar. - We received the broker yesterday, Ashtar. - Are you satisfied with the proposal? He's a good guy and... - But it's very cynical of you, isn't it? You are unworthy of this house, in the name of Thar of Narah! - I demand your respect, Larthari. - Which you never deserved! Everyone in the Colony knows of your corrupt and lewd acts! And now this! The Ashtar extinguishes one of the candles and looks at it. - Larthari, take your family and go live your life in this new world. Consider this a blessing from Thar. I am just the tip, the visible face of a decayed structure. This planet is dying. Leave me here enjoying material pleasures before I and everything else turns to dust. Go, Larthari. May Thar de Narah enlighten your soul and that of your family members! Thar Shvar. Larthari doesn't say a word, just looks at the Ashtar and withdraws from the Sedrah. London, England Blue Universe After teleportation at a hub in the English countryside, Larthari's family is transported by train and bus to a Tharelian immigrant checkpoint. They get off the bus and show their documents to the Hypos, Hyperon police officers registering refugees. The surrounding area is filled with tents, where Tharelians make their tea over makeshift heaters. Hypo releases family documents. As Dorthar helps Elthari with the luggage, Larthari takes Gunthar's hand. - Come, my son. This is your new land. May Thar of Narah guide your steps from now on. The family walks among the tents and refugees, seeking their way. --oOo-- BLUE ANGEL is a retrofuturistic fiction series. Anzhelika Volkova, a British Intelligence officer, journeys through the infinite aspects of reality. Visit the official website of the project: https://www.blueangelseries.com

My name is Ethan Morris and I have been with British Intelligence for eight years. Of course, that's not something you can say around to impress girls in a pub. The trick is to always mention that you "work for the government", and any curiosity about your professional activities will disappear in a blink of an eye. A few months ago I was called to join "Session 06", an obscure department of the Directorate of Intelligence run by an even more obscure figure, the burly ex-RAF pilot known only as "Alpha". Good people used to say that Alpha created Session 06 following some kind of transcendental inspiration. I don't know if that's true, but I also can't imagine it that big sitting in the cockpit of an AY-19 fighter. The man does not seem to be of this world. Section 06 is located in an abandoned train station at the back of an amusement park. A perfect hiding place. It is said that there is a huge area in its basement where secret weapons are developed. My rank doesn't even allow me to go near this restricted area. But that didn't stop me from coming into contact with a new threat. It gives me chills to this day. One morning I was called to Alpha's office. His bearing and deep voice are intimidating at first, but he is a focused and objective man. He gestured for me to sit down. - Agent Ethan Morris, we have an unusual situation and we need your work here. - Of course sir. - There is a movement in higher echelons related to an invasion. - Invasion, sir? - Exactly. - By a... foreign power? - No, it's more complicated than it might seem at first. I would like you to visit an address in a distant village. - I don't understand, sir. Alpha pulled a memo out of a drawer and handed it to me. - Here's the address. The only information available is that it's a hot spot. Go to the location and record any type of movement that you deem abnormal. - Sir. I took the memo and left the room. It took me at least an hour to drive to my destination in Leysdown, a village with less than a thousand inhabitants, summer houses and restaurants offering seafood. After asking some residents for directions, I finally found the road to my destination, actually a bumpy route that soon turned into a dirt and sand trail that bordered the sea. After much jostling, I finally arrived at the address on that memo, a seaside hotel on Shellness Beach. I parked and wondered what justification I could give for staying alone in a hotel out of season. I have an idea. I opened the car's glove compartment and grabbed my camera. Upon entering, I greeted the attendant, a man with a long beard, dark skin and about 55 years old. Maybe more. - Good afternoon. A room, please. - Good afternoon. Your name? - Maunsell. Guy Maunsell. - Of course. Be at ease, Mr. Maunsell. My name is Hakthar. If you need anything, just call. - Thank you very much. He took the room key and looked at my camera. - Professional photographer? - Yes, assigned to a subject. I work for Geographic Review. - The location is perfect for a rehearsal. If you need it, we have a boat available. - Thank you. It's a good idea. I went upstairs to my room and placed the camera and my gun on the nightstand. The man swallowed the photojournalist's story easily. Perhaps too easy. After dinner, I went to look at the night from the hotel balcony drinking a beer. Hakthar approached. I pointed to the sea. - What are those lights? - It's the Fort Red Sands, a fortification built in the 1940s by the Army in the event of an invasion by sea. It was never used. In the 60's it became a meeting point for alternative communities that established pirate radios there. Today it is abandoned. - Seems to be a good start for my work around here. - Undoubtedly, Mr. Maunsell. I will prepare your boat in the early hours of the next day. - Thank you, Mr. Hakthar. The man withdrew. I finished my beer, watching the lights on the ocean and thinking about that strange man who owned an inn in the middle of nowhere. --oOo-- The next day Hakthar steered the boat to the Fort on the high seas. The sight was impressive. About half a dozen towers raised over the water, in a state of near abandonment, looking like huge mechanical figures ready to attack. Seagulls darted in and out of the structures. I documented the details with my camera. We approached one of the towers and carefully climbed an iron staircase. The tower had two floors and several rooms, with some tables and cabinets. Upstairs were closed boxes made of newer material. I looked at Hakthar. - What's in those boxes? - I have no idea, Mr Maunsell. And I don't even intend to open them. It may carry toxic and corrosive material. - There is no external indication. - Certainly left here before regulatory standards are passed. - Presumably. We went up to a kind of terrace of the tower, where the cannons of the fort were probably located. I continued with my photo session, changing the film. Hakthar patiently waited for me. When the second film was finished, I asked him to take me back. At the hotel, I asked Hakthar to use the phone. - Unfortunately, the lines are down at the moment, Mr Maunsell. We have a radio, but it's burnt out. - What a shame. Well, it's still a way of ensuring total isolation, Mr Hakthar. He smiled. - Undoubtedly, Mr. Maunsell. It's part of the charm of the place. After lunch, I returned to the beach. I used the camera's telephoto lens to observe the surroundings. Everything seemed irritatingly calm. I had certainly a classic case of "bad intelligence" in my hands: coordinate errors or an agent's overzealousness. There was no "hot spot" there. As for the man, he was probably just some smart hotelier cashing in on manufactured “mysteries” for unsuspecting tourists. In the afternoon I decided to take a nap. I admit that it wasn't a very professional attitude, as I wasn't there for a walk, but the drowsy atmosphere of the place was an invitation to rest. I woke up at night and went down to reception. There was nobody there. I went out onto the porch and looked towards Red Sands. A kind of wingless, circular-shaped helicopter hovered over the fort, casting a bluish light. Suddenly the light went out and the object disappeared. I ran into the bedroom and grabbed the camera and gun. The boat was still moored at the dock. I entered it and headed to the fort. Upon reaching one of the towers, I went up the stairs. There were new boxes, several of them with a symbol that resembled the Greek letter Lambda. I set up the camera and started taking pictures. Suddenly I heard a voice. It was Hakthar. - Too bad your camera is limited to 36 shots per film, Agent Morris. We have equipment that allows us to take millions of pictures. And with incredible resolution, believe me. I looked back. Beside him was an automaton, a metallic robotic being carrying a rifle. The automaton carried two cylinders on its back and made strange sounds, pointing the gun at me. I asked Hakthar: - Who are you and where did you come from? - That's a question with a rather complex answer and one that would require some elaboration, Agent Morris. I don't think you have that much time. Please go up to the tower's terrace. I did as he told me, at gunpoint held by the automaton. - Section 06 will notice my absence and send a detachment here as soon as possible, Mr Hakthar. - This beachhead is already ruled out, Agent Morris. Too bad, a very well chosen place. Now our priority is getting rid of your body at sea. I went up to the terrace and looked around. I decided to act fast. - It's too dark up here. - Come on, hurry up! I faked a stumble, which caused a flock of seagulls to take flight. The automaton got distracted for a fraction of a second, enough for me to pick up an iron bar from the ground and hit it hard. It reacted with a sudden movement and the rifle fell overboard. Suddenly he advanced on me with empty hands. I hit my back hard on the floor. Hakthar screamed. - Throw him overboard! Now! The automaton lifted me off the ground. It was enough for me to grab my gun and fire at its head, which exploded and sent out clouds of steam in all directions. I closed my eyes and screamed in pain. - AAAHH! As the headless automaton fell to the ground, I aimed the weapon at Hakthar. He touched his wrist. - See you soon, Agent Morris. He disappeared in a cloud. I stood there for a while, disconcerted by these bizarre events. --oOo-- Upon returning to Section 06, I made a detailed report of what had happened. Alpha already had the developed photos in her hands. I asked him. - Who was that man anyway, sir? - We are still dealing with the situation at the highest levels of the government, Agent Morris. I'm not actually authorized to inform my agents about it. But I tell you: this is an unusual situation and requires some preparation. Report to the Signal Encryption Department immediately. I got up immediately. - Sir. For several days I had nightmares about that scene, which recurred night after night. I didn't know that it was the beginning of a strange era with danger around every corner. --oOo-- BLUE ANGEL is a retrofuturistic fiction series. Anzhelika Volkova, a British Intelligence officer, journeys through the infinite aspects of reality.

Dept. of Russian Literature Oxford Professor Irina Pavlova is a dashing lady in her sixties. She was born in Vladivostok but lived her childhood in Ulaanbaatar, the capital of Mongolia, until she emigrated permanently with her family to London. She usually gestures a lot, but this time she was intently examining my final exam for the Extension Course in Russian Literature. Its scent is pleasant and somehow reminds me of my elementary school teacher. She took a deep breath and closed her folder with my texts, after making some notes. - Yes, yes, Anzhelika Nikolayevna, your course is completed, and you passed it with flying colours. Мои поздравления! - Спасибо! - And what are your plans now? - Well, to be honest, I... I don't know! - Decide soon, because your scholarship will expire next month. If you choose another discipline, I won't be upset, believe me. By the way, I don't quite understand your desire here in the West to learn the Russian language. That's enjoying suffering! I found her sincerity funny. - Maybe I'll return to my old government job, but I'm not sure. My mother's health has worried me... - A difficult situation. And your father, what does he say? - I have not been in touch with him since we moved from Krasnodar. I was only 4 years old. - What was he doing? - He was an Officer. From the Air Force. - I understand. - I didn't say anything to my mother, but a year ago I travelled to Krasnodar to look for him. In the same building. - And you found him? - No. There was only one family in the place, who bought the apartment from a realtor. I asked the neighbour next door, an elderly lady. She told me that my dad just disappeared out of the blue. - Well, as an officer he must have been reassigned... - I visited his air base. I was told there that he retired. Nothing more. They had no more information. She made a gesture with her hands. - This is telling you, Anzhelika Nikolayevna, that it's time to move on. Define yourself. Ah, if I were attached to my past I would still be swallowing sand on the Trans-Siberian Railroad. Or God knows where... Take a few days and think about it. If you want to continue, I'll be happy to guide you. I have some pretty boring and difficult books on our bookshelf to get us started. I got up and shook his hands. - Thank you for everything, Mrs Pavlova. At home, I opened a bottle of wine. I took it while watching the window. I felt an indefinable inner emptiness, discontent with everything. It started to rain. I looked at the trees outside struggling with the wind. Nobody seemed to win. I put away the bottle of wine and went to bed. I dreamed that I was in a distant country. There were tanks in the streets and buildings were on fire. Dust and the smell of diesel confused my senses. I entered one of the buildings and saw a figure, a man wearing a black hat. I shouted: - Hang on! The guy disappeared. I walked through dark corridors full of pipes. Finally, I came to a large hall. The man in the hat was waiting for me. I walked over and he handed me a piece of paper. I tried to read it but I couldn't, my vision was blurry. I woke up in agony. I got up and went to the window. The rain had passed. But I had a vision that made me doubt I was awake. The man from my dream was in front of the house. He put something in my mailbox. I quickly got out and went to the box. There was a squiggle on it, the letter alpha. Inside the box, I found a typewritten memo. It said: Barbara Elliott London Cafe March 15th, 7 pm. /FB --oOo-- BLUE ANGEL is a retrofuturistic fiction series. Anzhelika Volkova, a British Intelligence officer, journeys through the infinite aspects of reality.

Professor Thar Tegthar at a seminar at Yontah University My name is Thar Pethar and I am 76 years old. As a retired journalist, I have passages through the main communication vehicles in Nopah on my resume. In 2972, dT, while interning at the Yontah Journal, I had the opportunity to interview the renowned scientist Thar Tegthar, the creator of The Hyperon Project. The previous month he had received the Thar Prize for the Advancement of Science, and because of that, his schedule was full. But the Professor managed to arrange a time for me on a Saturday afternoon, a hot day in the 5th month. I went to the University of Yontah and there he welcomed me into his room full of books and preprints. On the table, his pipe and a bottle of coffee, his fuel. Professor Tegthar gripped my hand firmly. His eyes were distant, almost expressionless, and his face very serious. I never saw him smiling. I started trying to break the ice, without much success. - The weather punishes us this year, Professor. No rain this month. - I know this may sound like a form of selfishness, but I see it positively, young man. The building's sealing isn't the best and there's a leak in the ceiling, right above my desk. I chuckled at his remark, but he remained impassive. So I decided to start the interview at once. - What is The Hyperon Project, Professor? He adjusted his glasses and began his explanation. - The Hyperon Project is the greatest technological achievement of the Tharelian civilisation. Now we can leave our space-time "shell" and finally explore other Universes. It is a lifeboat for our exhausted and collapsing society. - What will be the future developments of this Project? - We are creating technologies to send probes to other stable Type I Universes. They will look for habitable planets with advanced humanoid civilisations. Unfortunately, these planets are extremely rare. This type of combination only occurs in one Universe in a billion. - Why do we need a planet that already has an advanced civilization? - Because we don't have time. We need ready-made and developed social structures. We don't want an untouched paradise that would take us back to the caves. - But ethical questions are being raised... - What questions? - The elimination of local cultures, large-scale genocides... - The Multiverse is infinite. So there are infinite planets suited to our needs. We just have to find one of them. Or maybe two. Tharelia's priorities are at the top of our list and warrant any action to be taken. - And what is your position regarding the accusations of using slave labour and using terrorists from The Flock group as guinea pigs for experiments involving teleportation? - The Flock activists serving time in Nopah had a choice: be part of this great moment in our history or return to our prison system to serve their time. - Some of them got lost and couldn't be brought back... - I'm sorry for these losses but your destiny had already been traced. The sacrifice of these men was not in vain. A new era has begun. The interview was published in Yontah's Journal and it earned me praise and a promotion. Project Hyperon has become a reality, with all its consequences. In 3005 dT, as editor-in-chief of the Diary, I met Professor Tegthar again at the Center for Theoretical Physics, in honour of his 80th birthday. I approached him after the event and was taken aback by his comment. - Yes, I remember you and your observation about the rain. The gutter was also repaired. Last week. I laughed at that but he just noded. I asked, then: - Professor, looking at the past, is there any regret left? His answer chilled my spine. - None. Would do it all over again. If I was prevented from using the activists, I would volunteer for the tests myself. Without any doubt. Professor Thar Tegthar died the following year, aged 81. His legacy, The Hyperon Project, has become the most perfect translation of our civilisation: a story of great deeds and great tragedies. --oOo-- BLUE ANGEL is a retrofuturistic fiction series. Anzhelika Volkova, a British Intelligence officer, journeys through the infinite aspects of reality.

Já está disponível o Volume 3 da série BLUE ANGEL, KALC. No Volume 3, Angel e sua Agência Volkov se mudam para os EUA. Os primeiros indivíduos provenientes da Terra aparecem. E através da Sociedade Kalc, Angel aprofunda seu entendimento da realidade última das coisas. À venda na Amazon e na UICLAP. https://www.amazon.com.br/dp/B09SXJ44PQ https://loja.uiclap.com/titulo/ua15752/

O Volume 2 da série de livros em português já está à venda na UICLAP. No Volume 2, Nikol retorna a Blue e estabelece uma nova filial da Agência Volkov, oferecendo aos clientes aventuras em outros Universos. Angel experimenta um primeiro contato com a Tríade. https://loja.uiclap.com/titulo/ua15750/

Iniciando o redirecionamento gradual deste projeto para o público de língua portuguesa. O Volume 1, HYPERON, já está disponível tanto na Amazon Brasil quanto na UICLAP. Confira! https://www.amazon.com.br/dp/B09ML576J3 https://loja.uiclap.com/titulo/ua15746/

Now Blue Angel Series will also be available in a new format: audio novels. The podcast can be heard on Spotify, Deezer and several other platforms. Stay tuned for the new episodes! https://www.blueangelseries.com/audionovels https://open.spotify.com/show/6YNuDYiXJasUaZz8UvGaBx