The Land of Freedom's
Prologues
One day, in a war-torn city, a child was crying sobbing with his mother's hand, the child's mother was struck by the ruins of a destroyed building, everything was buried by those ruins, except for one hand that was currently holding tightly to her son lovingly.
On the other hand, there was the sound of a fighter jet flying through the sky, creating a barrage of explosive rumbling sounds everywhere, haunting people with a sense of despair. Everyone in the city was busy to save himself, except for one person sitting on a wooden chair, he was accompanied by a cup of coffee and a cigarette on his lips.
The man is seen sitting on a balcony in one of the buildings that are still intact, among the many buildings that collapsed. He seemed relaxed without caring about anything, he sat back in his chair, raising a cup of freshly brewed warm coffee, holding a book in his left hand.
The shabby, worn-out book, the cover of the book was ripped off, leaving a small tear that read 'justice is rotten, and rottenness is fair', as if describing the doom ahead of it.
Currently the book is being read by someone who looks like an old and weak, using reading glasses with a thick white beard and wrinkled skin. Then came the old man's inner voice from his mind realm,
...Father, look at all this madness....
...****...
billions of dust were scattering in the air, suffocating their breathing, especially for an old man who was about to meet his end. In a room connected to the balcony, there were hundreds of books scattered everywhere, like falling apart by itself from the shelves that were leaning on the walls of the room, because every pound of the ground must have dropped one of the books off his shelf.
The room is quite simple for an old man who is nerdy, in the room not only books, but some furniture, home, there is an antique clock cabinet standing in the middle of the window, looks also very beautiful paintings, but unfortunately the walls of the room look worn, with spots of stains everywhere.
there was a medium-sized table, on top of which there were many messy documents, each of which contained important studies that the old man was working on, and each of them contained, various drawings of a machine plan accompanied by a collection of very complicated formulas.
Lazor Franciszek, the name written on one of the papers, was written in solid black lacquer with neat precision, as if it were not written by hand. And that was the name of the old man who sat down while exhaling tobacco smoke, and a warm cup of coffee amidst the rumbling of hell.
When someone named Lazor raised a cup of coffee to be enjoyed the umpteenth time, suddenly a voice came from the radio, the voice was not initially clear, slowly making the sound of someone speaking.
Kezz... Khz- Hello.. Hola.... Kezz... Khz...
Can you guys hear us...?
This is our last message!
Kezz.... The khez...
We send greetings of unity to the soldiers who fought on the peninsula of hell....
And to all the fighters wherever you are....
We still haven't lost, live Poland!
...At least......
...Let me live, even for a few years....
...Inner Lazor Franciszek, the old man who expected desire....
...****...
Science is the result of human masterpieces, intelligence that develops over time, produces a valuable discovery for a civilization, but also creates destruction for all existing and future civilizations.
As Lazor was pensive about his expectations, he looked at a plane from the west, it was flying towards him, as if it wanted to get Lazor to go up to heaven, slowly and slowly, to the point where the plane was releasing an explosive unit, Lazor looked up clearly, where the bomb was exactly one metre from his eyeball.
...Ahhe... I am not sure of you, my Lord....
Duuaarr!!!....
It's destroyed, everything's destroyed. Now that Lazor's home has collapsed with him, he is buried with his books, his research, his paintings, his antique clock, his chair, his cup and a cigarette and all his hopes.