Secrets of the Masons and Nikolai Gogol in Moscow

The wind, as if taken from an old melodrama, played with the dry leaves on Red Square. The park, which spread out at the foot of the Kremlin walls, was plunged into a rare silence for Moscow. In this timelessness, as if from a parallel reality, Nikolai Gogol appeared, carrying a book in his hands, which shone with golden letters on a dark cover. The wind whispered to him secrets of the past as he slowly approached Lenin's Mausoleum, where, as they said, the secrets of the Moscow Freemasons were kept.

Gogol stopped at the entrance, as if waiting for permission from an invisible guard. At that moment, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, illuminating the red walls and giving them a hue as if created on an abstract artist's palette. Time ceased to exist, and the walls began to tell their own stories.

Inside the Mausoleum, where semi-darkness usually reigns, everything was different. Light streamed along the walls, creating bizarre patterns. In this light, as in a mirror, were reflected the faces that had long since left this world, but left their mark on history. Gogol, as if forgetting about reality, walked through the halls, and each of his steps was like a step along the pages of the book he held in his hands.

Here, among the shadows and glare, Nikolai noticed a figure standing by the sarcophagus. It was a man in a robe decorated with signs that could have belonged to ancient orders. Gogol felt a tremor, as if the hand of fate had fallen on his shoulder. Time and space again mixed in a dance of light and shadow, and in this dance Gogol realized that before him was the keeper of Moscow's Masonic secrets.

The man in the robe, without saying a word, pointed to the book in Gogol's hands. The writer, without realizing what he was doing, opened it to the first page. The symbols, which at first seemed meaningless, began to form words. "The world in 2025," Gogol read, and saw how the world around him had changed. Red Square had become a place where people from different countries and eras communicated without the need for words.

Gogol closed the book, and the vision disappeared. The mausoleum was again plunged into darkness, but he knew that the truth he had seen would remain with him forever. He went out into the square, and the wind began to play with the leaves again. The writer smiled, realizing that he had touched a mystery that not everyone could comprehend.

***

Of course, this is just a figment of the imagination, and in reality there was no such story. A little fantasy for a smile! And for real facts and events, we invite you to the excursions of the Radius bureau, where history comes to life!