Deep within Helsinkian utopia

Is there any limits to what you can calculate and estimate? Deterministic view on reality insists an idea that everything in the universe goes according to basic math, therefore, with sufficient computational power, you can plan ahead any amount of time. You can calculate a city, even a society with every single individual. Here even emotions and free will vanish within endless stream of numbers. Technocrats strongly believe in the power of computation, and once they get their hands on city planning, neighborhoods like Pasila in Helsinki emerge. Even though Helsinki, with huge concentration of cultural entrepreneurs, is being considered as one of the most creative places in whole Europe, Pasila has a different face.

Grey color, which dominates all surrounding matter of this technocratic utopian dream, acts as bold invitation card for art activists, who gathered here on a quest to fill the walls with insight and beauty provided by street artists. And once the supernatural power of imagination reached a critical point, Edward materialized above Pasila. He instantly noticed the prevailing structure: everything is arranged in a symmetrical manner with sharp and rigid lines trying to induce awe and miniaturize the people in contrast to rigorous capitalistic structures. Everything is divided to three levels — one is for roads, one is for people, and one is for giant underground parking lots.

Sun disappeared, letting Nordic summer night to creep in where chilly wind briskly breezes through every corner, insisting an average person to close himself in bedroom. Hence streets got empty, car cacophony got silent, and Edward’s feet gently touched the ground.

“Oh damn hot momma, you have some nice curves around your bread” — comments Miina, who apparently got excited about the freshly cooked loaf Enn has. Interestingly enough, teleportation machine gets so hot that bread bakes on the way.

Miina and Enn is looking at each other like it’s teenage years.

Helsinki is truly Nordic, therefore locals here constantly lack Vitamin D, and Liisu came to solve this issue with her spinning wheel. Unlike in Rome, where she tried to see whether you can overdose on Vitamin D, here she is eager to help, and turns her spinning wheel on to heal people.

Ats#Pets suddenly got inspired by the surroundings and insisted a portal so they could sing a freshly written special song for Pasila called “The price of good salary”.

And so they swimmingly sing with Nordic determination in their posture:

Grey is my home, grey is my face,
Grey is my porridge which I eat for days.
But at least the money shines here with grace
Since green stands out well in my grey suitcase.

Hamar & Co, being the biggest fans of these two Estonian superstars, are super excited to sing along and party together.

Even though music is nice, but Hamar still complains: “Ugh, it smells here like schedules and appointments”… It doesn’t matter how old some people are, teenage spirit dwells within them nonetheless.

Edward’s senses caught a secret KGB transmission. Apparently there is one more level in the neighborhood, even deeper one, where all the lost capitalist souls seek for asylum. Edward swirls in to the depths of kilometers long abandoned tunnel with two old vandals who are anxious to scare the hell out of curious adventurers.

Time started to boil like a hot Estonian potato soup, bubbling in chaos and turmoil. It’s maybe due to disturbed tunnel residents, or maybe due to the fact how historically connected Finland and Estonia is, but an extraordinary anomaly within unreachable dimensions occurred. Edward is overwhelmed by restless Estonian spirits who are yearning to shout out, to jump in to existence and leave their mark. He has nothing to do, but to obey the power of ancestors as fast as he can.

No matter how powerful computers will become, no matter how vigorously technocrats will try to calculate everything with them, Edward will remain transcendent to any causality, thus without any chance to be estimated. His appearance was spontaneous, his disappearance was offhand. Now it’s only Helsinkians who can walk by Estonian ancestors in attempts to communicate with them.