- I have invited you, lords and ladies, to convey some most unpleasant news, - Revan began, removing his hood and glancing over the assembled group. – The Creator is coming to visit us!
- What, the Creator?! – Arandor jumped up.
- That's right, - Revan spread his arms. – He probably heard about our festival and now wants to see how we are conducting it…
- You [Moderated: PROFANITY in message]! – Nebo expressed his surprise colorfully, then looked around to see if any strangers were nearby, and swore filthily.
- Uh-huh. Exactly, - Dag nodded from his corner.
- The main thing is not to panic, - Ment raised his hands in a calming gesture, - and we must think about how to present ourselves in the best light. It's quite a mess here... We should probably clean it up.
- Right, that's what we'll do, - Revan nodded. – We only have twenty-four hours until the Creator arrives…
He didn't have time to finish his sentence, knocked off his feet by a crowd rushing out of the main hall of the Haven.

***

- And I'm telling you, it's all your fault! It's because of you that I'm sitting here, when I could be sitting in the director's chair of my own company!
- Hey, why are you pushing me?! You ruined your own life, so stop blaming me!
- He's not to blame! You were the first one to treat him to a pill!
- So what? These pills are normal; if you wanted to, you would have quit long ago!
- Well, I quit long ago, now I inject. And I advise you to do the same, it hits harder.
- You're such a loser, who injects these days? All the advanced ones have been snorting for ages.
- Snorting has more side effects; completely normal people forbid it!
- Ah, well yeah, that's why those "completely normal" people can't imagine a day without mushrooms…
Ment and Kosha looked at each other indecisively. A bunch of junkies sitting on the porch of the Haven could not be left there given the Creator's arrival, but who knew what these lunatics might do if their attention were drawn. It took several minutes before the two Haven regulars decided to act. Kosha approached the group, putting on her sweetest smile.
- Hiya, guys! Why are you sitting here? Maybe you'd like some tea in the backyard? We can even join you!
- Yes, I can brew an excellent tea! – Ment supported the girl.
One of the junkies frowned and looked up with an unshaven face.
- And who are you people? And since when do you tell me what to do? Get lost! Offering tea here... Don't forbid me from taking pills, I live in a free country!
- Exactly! – another chimed in. - Your stupid tea is useless!
- They brew normal tea, though, - the third junkie added. – It tastes good. But it doesn't get you high, eh, - he reached for a syringe, but Kosha noticed and tried to stop him.
- Why don't you drink some tea for a change, since you like it anyway! – she suggested brightly in the friendliest tone she was currently capable of, although Kosha's eye began to twitch unpleasantly, and her voice risked breaking into a scream at any moment.
- Um, well... Maybe the backyard is a good idea, huh? – the fourth loser spoke up, distracting himself from chewing a mushroom.
- Come on, come on, - Ment beckoned them, - I'll brew you some signature tea, you won't regret it. It has mint, rose, cloves…
- Go to [Moderated: PROFANITY in message]! – the most volatile junkie snapped back. – I was taking pills when you were still walking under a table! And I'll keep taking them! And to hell with all of it [Moderated: PROFANITY in message]!!! – with these words, the stoner bolted and ran into the sunset, though judging by his trajectory, he was dodging either dragons or fighter jets. The other members of the psychotropic substances lovers' club shrugged and followed Ment to drink tea, while Kosha dashed off for a cake.

***

Alex waited impatiently. Arandor and Plesen had been in the bathroom for ten minutes already; in that time they could have filled at least a dozen buckets, but so far only muffled giggles and the splashing of water came out. Out of boredom, Alex listened to the muttering…
- Just take it already, - Plesen said insistently.
- I can't, it's so long, it'll be awkward… - Arandor protested.
- There are no others, and my hands are already full…
- But it's wet and slippery!
- Well, you'll put up with it, it won't take long, and then Alex will help us…
- WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU WANT TO GET ME INTO?! – Alex couldn't take it anymore, bursting through the door and preparing for the worst, but reality exceeded all his expectations…
Plesen and Arandor were standing opposite each other. The first, holding buckets of water, was poking a wet hose lying on the floor with the toe of his boot, while the second made a disgusted face, but upon seeing Alex, instantly perked up.
- Oh. Alex, be a friend, carry this wet… long… THING… - Arandor pointed to the same apparatus with a truly royal gesture.
Alex rolled his eyes and slung the hose over his shoulder. The company moved toward the flowerbeds in front of the Haven.
- Right then. Alex, you water, and you, Plesen, carry the water…
- And you?
- And I'll have the hardest job – commanding you!

***

Neyra gloomily scrubbed the floor with a mop. She was washing under this chandelier for the fourth time already, and the grumbling, puffing, and quiet swearing coming from above had become quite tedious. The fact that it was the largest chandelier in the Haven didn't mean they should have first tried to dust it, then douse it with a hose, then disassemble it—breaking half the pendants—and now argue over who washed more. At the very least, all this could have been done while Neyra was cleaning the second floor. But no! Siver and Vistrit seemed to have conspired and were now persistently pursuing her, starting their destructive work on the lighting fixtures exactly where Neyra was wiping away their dirty tracks. Meanwhile, the pair argued incessantly over every little thing, acting upon the girl's already frayed nerves.
The final straw was a pendant falling on Neyra's head. Letting out a string of foul language and gripping her even filthier mop more firmly, the girl marched heavily toward the stairs to the second level, where the guys were hanging down, risking their lives to clean. Incredibly, this instance was the first time Siver and Vistrit showed surprising unanimity – grabbing rags and basins, they fled from the punitive mop at a speed sufficient to reach orbit.

***

Geroist looked warily at his companion. Nebo had fallen into a rage again and was now using powerful kicks to shove a broken chair into the storage closet. Since the closet already contained three bent floor lamps, four stools, a bundle of dirty clothes, eight broken monitors, and plenty of smaller junk—and since the inside of the closet was expectedly no larger than the outside—the chair refused to go where it was being pushed.
- Maybe bring a saw? – Geroist asked solicitously.
- No, – Nebo replied, wiping sweat from his forehead. – Better help with brute physical force, – He kicked the furniture again.
Geroist took aim and leaned into the chair with his shoulder. With a creak, a crunch, some swearing, and a heart-rending screech, the guys finally managed to shove the unshovable in, quickly jump back, and block the door that threatened to open with a heavy sofa.
- Thanks for the help, - Nebo, suddenly calming down, kissed Geroist on the cheek. The latter pulled away and looked at him with terrified eyes.
- What? – Nebo wondered. – Don't worry, Tieru is just a bit off own head. Olam and Zanebo are already explaining to him that you shouldn't do that, and Oben has wanted to spend the night in him for a long time.
- I don't even know which of you six scares me more, - Geroist looked on suspiciously. – Let's go, maybe we can find somewhere to hide Arandor's broken vase…
- I suggest hiding it inside Arandor himself, - Nebo grinned bloodthirstily.
- I don't think the Creator will appreciate that. But in a worst-case scenario, we'll bury it in the flowerbed.

***

With earplugs in, Shaman found things a bit easier. He still hadn't figured out the voice commands for this player, but with the expected repertoire, he didn't really want to. However, the absence of the player would likely not have saved the situation, as Vish and Medj were serious – at the moment one was tightening strings, the other was wiping a pick, and both were humming everything they could remember in competition. Not that they sang poorly – on the contrary, quite well. To Shaman's ear, perhaps even too well. With feeling, with accompaniment… And terribly loud.
- Guys, of course I trust your taste, but can you be a little quieter? – Shaman asked almost pleadingly when even the earplugs failed.
- We're done already, - Medj comforted him, putting down the guitar. – Take these then, and these, and these… - he began pointing at the screen, choosing the repertoire.
- We wanted something else too, - Vish reminded him.
- Right, you can dump this whole album, it's not big.
- …anything else? – Shaman asked when the musical personalities stopped.
- No, that's all, - Vish nodded. – Now let's listen. Louder, please…
The tuned equipment obediently responded to the "louder" command. Before his ears collapsed into tubes, Shaman discerned behind the spirited guitar riffs the sound of breaking glasses…

***

Dag was frankly bored whitewashing the wall. He entertained himself by writing various indecent words in paint and drawing even less decent pictures before whitewashing each section; then he'd quickly cover it all up. Not exactly a thrilling activity, but it brought a small risk to the boring process – Dag didn't really want to be caught.
- What are you doing? – a voice sounded behind Dag, who was writing another uncultured word.
- Oh, just... nothing… You approached very quietly, Uran, - Dag tried to cover the obscenity with his broad back.
- I whitewashed my half and wanted to offer you help. Need it?
- Yes, I'd be very grateful! Start whitewashing from the door, - Dag nodded toward the corner.
- Fine, but let me show you something, - Uran squinted cunningly and took the brush from Dag. – If you want to immortalize an indecent inscription without drawing attention to it, you have to do it like this, - with the handle of the brush, he sketched a scandalous picture on the fresh whitewash in two strokes.
- You…
- Don't worry, it's not visible from three steps away. Besides, it's almost right at the foundation. No one will notice unless they look closely. On my side, there are already three such pictures and eight words.
- Um… Thanks for the lesson, I suppose, - Dag grunted, gesturing for Uran to finally go whitewash his section on the other side.
As soon as the helper disappeared, Dag snorted, looking at his creation, and continued whitewashing the wall. But after a few minutes, when his gaze fell once more upon the indecent drawing, Dag couldn't resist and, sticking out his tongue, began to scratch something with the handle of the brush…

***

- Can you manage the rest yourselves? – Mortulus asked, placing a heavy crate on the floor.
- Yes, thanks, - Revan nodded.
- Well then, good, - Mortulus nodded and ran to his room – a boss raid was waiting for him.
Revan opened the crate and began rummaging through the decorations. He decided to wait for Sezam, whose taste he trusted more than his own. However, she had gone for some exotic incense intended to dazzle the Creator's imagination, and Revan strongly doubted she would return today…
His reflections were interrupted by a thick, pleasant aroma. Apparently, Revan's fears were unfounded, and Sezam was already experimenting with scents.
"She should have experimented with flags instead," - the thought flashed through Revan's mind as he gutted the box.
- Started without me, I see? – Sezam's voice sounded behind him.
- Well, as you can see, - the guy nodded.
- Go prepare your speech. I'll decorate everything myself.
- Can you handle it?
- Of course, don't doubt it! Everything will go great.
Revan shrugged and left. He didn't see that during her shopping, Sezam hadn't limited herself to incense…

***

- Hello, Creator, we are all very glad to see you! Please come in, make yourself at home! A vase in the flowerbed? Yes, excellent decor, don't you think? We don't throw away what might be useful! Careful, don't step in the puddle; we just watered the lawn, apparently we overdid it a bit. Yes-yes, the Haven was specially painted for your arrival. Only, um, do you mind if I stand by this wall? No-no, I'm not hiding anything, it's just more convenient here, yes-yes, more convenient, and this bush doesn't hinder at all, as you might think! Let us go into the house! Do you like the smell? In my opinion, it's excellent. And the decoration is in, hm, the best traditions of the East, well you know, we have experts… Speak louder, please, I can't hear you over the music… Louder… Lou... Oh, your ears are bleeding, someone bring bandages and cotton! Here, Creator, sit on the sofa, rest… Ah, that door. That is, um, an original design concept; it leads nowhere. And the chandelier is also original and designed, absolutely correct, minimalism, constructivism, all that—pendants are last century, it's fine as it is. Oh, don't pay attention to the voices from the backyard; we have traditional tea gatherings there. Yes-yes, exactly tea, everything is quiet and peaceful, no one is complaining about anything. And now I invite you to the table, the festival will start soon! Sorry that there are no glasses, only metal mugs…

***

- You are all a bunch of [Moderated: PROFANITY in message]!!! – Revan screamed as soon as the door closed behind the Creator. – Can you even be entrusted with anything?!
- What, is the Creator dissatisfied? – Ment grew sad.
- The Creator is delighted; only his ears suffered, but he liked the music. But you! You… you!!! You have no idea how much effort it took me to cover your screw-ups!!!
- But everything's fine!
- Yes! But… Ah, forget it. By the way, one more thing. The Creator was so delighted by our festival and our Haven that he promised to stop by sometime in the summer… Without an invitation.
The entire Haven turned out to be strikingly unanimous in its reaction.
- WHAT???!!!