The Swamp

Anne discovers that even the politest machines
can still humiliate you.
And in this forest,
help always comes at a price.

Anne pulled out one of the coins, stepped confidently toward the slot, and casually tossed it in. Everyone waited in tense silence.

Soon a humming sound came from inside the machine, growing louder until — ta-daa! — a thick, wide board began to slowly rise from the narrow opening at the center of the stump.

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Reflections on the scene

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At first glance — just a stump, a few machines, a smiling coin box. But it soon becomes clear this is yet another paid barrier. Heinomat™, a product of Heinotek™ — the Forest Administration’s latest achievement in extortion.

The scene is absurd, even funny — until the beating begins. The machine gives no warning, asks no questions. You press the wrong button, and you get a serving of violence. Politely, methodically, without an ounce of sympathy.

But behind the joke lies something deeper. It’s no longer just about passing through — it’s about obedience. The machine offers help, but also imposes conditions. And if you don’t meet them — it punishes.

The most painful part isn’t the experience itself. Anne suffers, but doesn’t break. The tears are real, but then comes the resolve: she’ll return the favor — with interest.

Heino’s name resurfaces. The spider mentioned him. Now we see it on a machine, too. Gradually we understand: Heino is not just a beaver. He’s a whole system — with branches, employees, and humiliating rules.

And yet, the quietest moment is the loudest: the thought of Mom. Remembering that somewhere out there, someone is waiting for her. The swamp isn’t just an obstacle. It is a boundary — between anger and sorrow, between childhood and resistance.