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Time passed, life continued. In this cold and forgotten corner of the world, a place no man had set foot in decades. A scar on the land left behind by the old parties ambitions. That once it may as well have been a grave site, now a new beginning. Power systems roared to life lights and music long decayed, now restored and improved. Better than new, better than the day they were made. By Buratinos hard work and ingenuity, Future World shined with splendor once more. Spotlights again cut the night sky, merry songs and carnival rounds billowed on the cold winds. Snowflakes shone with the sparkling colors of oscelating lights. What was made to be a glimpse of the future had finally achieved what it was created for. The park grew and improved, growing taller and denser. The simple dolls began excursions out into the cold and forgotten outskirts. So far from a walled mega city in these forgotten snowy forrests. Out to cities and towns long abandoned and consumed, stripped clean of life

There once stood here among the trees a place ment to radiate power and splendor. But that was long ago. The central tower stretching towards the sky, cresting above the tallest tree tops to exude a glow of scientific wonder. Now it stood dark and quiet in the silence of the forgotten woods. A towering tombstone to hubris of the past. All around the enormous lot surrounding the tower, what once was a place of joy now cast in ruin. Vast plazas filled with pavilions and stages, rides and games and small buildings full of knick nacks. All dead silent and long abandoned. At the edges of the great clearing where infastructure buildings stood, no hum of power or buzz of workers. Trees and grass slowly overtook the concrete barriers. Foliage overgrew the vast parking structures till the brutalist walls were wrapped in green tendrils. At the head of the park as the small group of travelers stood, there before them a vast plaque of steel to shine in the sun as once guests may have

"Once upon a deep Russian forest. There existed a humble little village. It was a quiet and secluded little place, connected loosely to the outside world only by a sleepy old train track. Quaintly different from the armored and technological cities. Here, so far away from the bustle, in a simpler kind of life, a nightmare of the dark began to take shape. One day without warning, the quiet and peaceful life of the town was shattered by a dark preasence. The supernatural Dark Woods had encroached upon the village. Before anyone even knew what had happened, the town was snarred and trapped. Each day the dark woods grew closer and closer, the safe parts of the forest dwindled. Pathways out of the village and hunting grounds shrunk to nothing. All those brave or desperate enough to venture beyond, into the Dark Woods, did not return. The strange and malevolant treeline creeped closer every day. Each night was filled with the unearthly sounds of the dark creatures that dwelled within. The

"Big Brother! Big Borther! You are home!" The cold air of the appartment flat was filled with a joyous young shout, as the small child nearly bowled over his older brother, hugging the elders legs tightly. "Oof, hello little Buratino." He patted the shorter child on the head. So it had been every day for five months. The brothers greeting eachother at the door when the elder returned from a hard day at work. The big brother adjusted his long, striped scarf, insulating himself from the cold of the flat, as his little brother toddled back. To his great distress, Buratinos innocent young face was full of wonder and hope, he asked excitedly the one thing the big brother had been hoping all day to avoide, information he dreaded to share. "Is babushka well again? Can she leave the hospital and come home today?" The words cut like a knife, the older brother struggling not to let his expression fall before Buratinos innocent eyes. He put on his best brave face and tried to answer as

"Neural matrix initialized. Beginning startup procedure. Rectifying primary parameters...Parameter one: Befriend children." It was a cold day. Always a cold day here. That is why he had chosen this isolated city. Grim in the north, far away from Moscow, far away from those days... "Rectifying parameter two: Care for Children." He had done things he could never truly atone for. Every day as he awoke, more weary, hair more white, step slower and cough lingering longer. He looked out along the driven snow, and saw his future, a frozen pit of hell he had dug with his sins in life. He could not even bring himself to beg forgiveness. "Rectifying Parameter three: Entertain Children." Acrost the lab from the old and warn computer consol running his neural matrix program, the old scientist glanced wearily at the rusty old incinerator. Bit by bit memento of his sordid past had met the flames. A black and white photograph of he and his fellow scientists at the first successful test of the