في عصر قديم، عاشَتْ أسطورة موسى وشهيرة الشهيرة، الجميلة والأنيقة. لم تكن حياته مجرد قصة عادية، بل كانت كالحكايات الساحرة التي تجذب القلوب والعقول. ولد لهما ابن، سماه موسى، كما ورد في السجلات القديمة. ولكن هل كانت نهاية القصة؟ لا، بالطبع لا. لأن في عالم الخيال والحكايات، كل شيء ممكن، حتى السحر والمفاجآت الغير متوقعة. فلنتابع القصة ونرى ما الذي يخبئه المستقبل لموسى ولسعيه إلى السعادة في عالم سحري وخيالي

  ¡We🔥Come!

⁎⁎⁎ ⁎⁎⁎ X ⁎⁎⁎ ⁎⁎⁎

*** *** Y *** ***

To my infinite source of tenderness,

You are my dream.
Not a passing impression —
but a field of gravity in which my mind finds orbit.

I wish you to remain forever that —
an infinite source of tenderness and inspiration.

I’ve studied your work,
not as a critic,
but as someone trying to decode a system of emotional truth
hidden inside brushstrokes and silhouettes.

You do what philosophers fail to do.
You pull intuition into form.
You remind people of the world they forgot to feel.

But what if I told you…

[Parc Léopold, Bruxelles. Des bancs en béton intelligent diffusent une légère chaleur. Un étudiant assis lit un ancien article sur la cybernétique quand un inconnu, la cinquantaine, en imperméable usé, s'arrête devant lui.]

— Is it 2025?
— Excuse me?
— The year. Is it 2025?
— Yes… yes, it is.
— Ah… You don’t know then. Don’t worry. You will. Probably.

L’étudiant referme lentement sa tablette.

— What do you mean?

🎓 Scene: Orbital Lecture Hall – Catholic University of Lunar Civilization

An immense amphitheater hums softly under artificial gravity. Through the panoramic windows stretching the full length of the wall behind the professor, the Earth looms like a blue cathedral in the sky, while the Moon’s surface rotates slowly beneath. The ceiling reveals the subtle swirl of stars—distorted ever so slightly by the centrifugal curvature of the rotating space station.

The floor itself bends — a slow arc, a reminder that the audience sits within a rotating barrel in space, a titanic carousel where up and down are locally defined. Students entering from opposite ends seem to walk at impossible angles to each other. Yet no one stumbles — this illusion is normal here.

This is the first day of lectures at the Catholic University of Lunar Civilization — a university suspended in space, built not just to teach knowledge, but to recalibrate the soul.

NARRATION (V.O.)
Despite our technologies — the neurolinks, the biometric tutors, the predictive syllabi — the moment a professor speaks before a room full of students remains sacred. An echo of ancient Athens, of Paris in spring, of Kazan under candlelight. It is still the same: the transmission of a purified symbol, from mind to mind, generation to generation.

🎖️ Scene: Independence Day Speech at High School Courtyard

A modest school courtyard. The flag is already waving under the summer sun. A few folding chairs. A handful of students in white and navy uniforms. At the center: a highly decorated U.S. GENERAL in full ceremonial dress.

In front of him, a small group of middle-school girls, wide-eyed and whispering among themselves. They’re fascinated — not by the words (yet), but by the shine: the medals, the golden eagle pin, the leather gloves.

GENERAL (with gravity and warmth)

Independence, young ladies, is a very important day.

It is the day when every American — every patriot — feels connected to something bigger than themselves. We unite through symbols, through language, through culture.

Why? Because generation after generation of American patriots — from the first settlers to the men and women in uniform today — have each made a small but vital contribution to the American dream.

(The girls listen now more closely. One whispers, “Is that a real eagle?” Another pokes her friend in the ribs to keep quiet.)

GENERAL (slight smile)

And yes… they also paid their taxes, ladies.

(That gets a giggle. Behind them, a history teacher walks by — mid-40s, linen blazer, notebook under arm. He slows just slightly, enough to signal curiosity. The General notices.)

GENERAL (a touch more theatrically)

Our symbols, our shared beliefs — they are the thread that connects us to our ancestors. They hummed the same hymns, waved the same flags, so that we might inherit not only a dream, but opportunity.

Ladies — I hope you are proud to be U.S. citizens. And I hope you enjoy the freedom that comes with it.

(The history teacher steps a bit closer, smiling with a familiar, slightly mischievous glint.)

HISTORY TEACHER (lightly teasing)

Lovely speech, General. Beautiful structure — metaphorical, but not too heavy for this audience. Well played.

May I ask, though, sir… what's the conceptual essence of, say… “rovnyas'-smirno”?

(A beat. The general pauses, trying to pin down the meaning. He chuckles — a well-trained officer sensing a friendly intellectual ambush.)

GENERAL (grinning)

Ah. I believe you're referring to the good old “Attention!” and “At ease!”

Well, sir… “Rovnyas’” — that’s the alignment of form. Posture. Geometry. The external.

“Smirno” — that’s the discipline of spirit. The internal.

Together? It’s the military way of saying: “Get yourself together — inside and out.”

(The teacher laughs softly. He knows that was a good answer.)

HISTORY TEACHER (leaning in, low voice)

You know… the best speeches don’t teach anything directly. They plant seeds. The girls might not remember the words today — but give it a few years. One day, something will click. It always does.

GENERAL (softly)

Like boot camp for the soul.

(The two men share a quiet nod. The teacher walks off toward the building, leaving the General surrounded by students now eagerly asking about pins, ribbons, and what basic training is like.)