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Are we going insane? Media provokate: Pro drugs! Pro war! Pro pain, all insane! Losing all vision, extremist! The Perceiver: These shallow promises, mesmerized by media whores. Media provokate: Racist! Corrupted post-modern idiotism! The Perceiver: Blinded by the common fear of knowledge? Truth is based on faith or science! Media provokate: Communist! Born again! Lost in a Mystic evangelism! The Perceiver: How come you journalists fear your mind?

Why don't you the media just choose your destiny? The King has returned, never lose your faith Break the chains, rise above the lies The King has returned, never lose your faith We have to break the chains, fight for freedom They only change When Hell Freezes Over. Compartilhar no Facebook Compartilhar no Twitter.

If this is what is left Then walk away The King has returned, never lose your faith Break the chains, rise above the lies The King has returned, never lose your faith We have to break the chains, fight for freedom They only change When Hell Freezes Over If this is what is left Then walk away The King has returned, never lose your faith Break the chains, rise above the lies The King has returned, never lose your faith We have to break the chains, When Hell Freezes Over When Hell Freezes Over.

When Hell Freezes Over by Darrien Lee

Envie pra gente. She turned around and went towards the elevator. He looked at her as she moved away and had a little smile around his mouth. Then he rubbed his hands, blew in them and started moving to the stairs on the left. He could take the elevator too but he wanted to get in some exercise by taking the elevator. He hated going to a fitness studio when you could just as easily just walk and use stairs to stay moderately in shape and the archives were just two floors down.

This had the added benefit that no well-meaning fitness trainers came over giving pointers about how you were using the devices wrong. He opened the door to his workplace and stared into the large dark room. All that was visible was the lit shape of the door on the floor but the rest was so dark he felt he could cut it with a knife.

Normally some computer would be running and illuminate other parts of the room, but he had turned everything off before he went on his visit. Save the planet and whatnot. He did his small part.

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He fumbled in the dark for the light switch and clicked it. With blazing fast speed, he saw how the soft led lights on the ceiling spring to life. How good it was to live in the modern era with modern marvels with easy lighting and heating. Of course, some manuscripts needed special conditions for permanent storage, but the occasional retrieving of it, to study it or digitize it the temperatures and humidity here were sufficient.

For really special manuscripts they had a special room that could be set to really specific conditions, and even a special container that could be flooded with water of a specific temperature and salt level to be able to study documents that had been submerged and would deteriorate fast if dried out without the proper procedures. But time limitations, expertise, and costs usually ended up them being stored submerged in specially balanced fluids to keep the manuscripts from deteriorating. He hung his coat on the coat standard next to the door and went over to his work station.

After nudging the power button to wake up his computer he went to the coffee machine in the hallway and tapped the screen on it to wake it up too. After waiting around for a minute the coffee machine had woken up, heated itself and he could get a black coffee from it.

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With fresh coffee in hand and a nice coffee aroma filling the area around him he went back to his work station and got back to work. He looked at his appointment schedule for today. Not that he expected anyone to be interested in visiting the archives so shortly before the Christmas holidays. People had better places to be. That suited him fine really, that way he had more time for his hobby, trying to interpret the old ogham manuscripts. He felt as if he was scratching at the history, learning old secrets, as if a window to the past opened and gave him a glimpse of how life was back then.

It was a place where it seemed that trolls, goblins, dragons, elves and all kind of mysterious creatures still lived. Who would think roving army band when a farm burned down to the ground and the inhabitants brutally were torn apart. You would, of course, think a dragon did that. Better to give the unknown an explanation than an uncomfortable truth that would force your hand in acting instead of ignoring it. He could understand that. It was a simpler life, and little fairytales would give a nice excuse to not having to act on a marching army band you knew full well that would bleed your resources when met in battle.

But it was nice to pretend dragons had existed. The writers of the manuscripts had believed in them at least and had written warnings of dens and routes where to watch the skies. It must have been a scary life back them, constantly being worried about elves trying to trick you, dragons swooping down to gobble you up and goblins trying to steal your shiny things and slit your throat.

Jacob leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. Compared to nowadays that life seemed so exciting. Having to share the world with other intelligent creatures, having to outwit them, trap them, conquer them. He sighed and bent over to his computer and called up his last work file. It was a picture of an old calcified tree trunk that was scratched with what seemed like a lot of random cuts from top to bottom, as if someone had been using the tree as a calendar to count the days, with each notch being a day. This was however far from the truth.

It was an old Gaelic dialect called Ogham. It was too different from what he was used to and to top it off you had to read it from bottom to top. Then if you could interpret it you still had an old Gaelic text that had to be translated in something he and others could understand.

He could play games on his phone all day if he wanted and nobody would bat an eye. His predecessor had even held dungeons and dragon sessions here for the students who had time off and spent most of his time making little builds to spruce up his game maps. He, however, had taken this job because history fascinated him, but he could never bother himself to sit in the lecture halls to get a masters degree or PhD in some history related study. All he really wanted to do is study old texts and catch glimpses of the past.

A really simple wish but hard to make a living of.

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He had spent time working at the frying station at McDonald's before he got this job, logging on to the university website to look at the catalog of texts they had published on their website, but they never published everything, just enough to get people interested and have them pay for access to the quite formidable collection of ancient texts. A job opening where he would have access to more ancient texts then he would ever be able to read, and he would get paid for it too. When he had applied he had been able to convince his interviewer that he was the man for the job and had in great length detailed his passion for old texts and how excited he was for this opportunity.