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174 pages, Paperback
First published November 1, 2016
The house looked sufficiently dilapidated to be considered interesting, and was a veritable architectural relic of the late XXth century Romanian village. A tin roof, stolen from the nearest factory, partially broken windows, crooked walls, along with a sort of porch built by the last industrious man from the village.

When he had sat his college admission exam, there weren't too many options for becoming a spy.
There was, of course, the for-profit Christian University, offering majors like: espionage, espionage management, espionage psychology, foreign languages for espionage and, of course, international relationships for espionage. But it didn't seem like a trustworthy institution, and [Petre] couldn't afford the tuition fees. So he decided to attend the Police Academy, which offered a major in Military Sciences, Information and Public Order.
To this day, there's still an antenna on top of the institute that sends constant high frequency squeaking sounds towards Alpha Centauri. We figure, that since the aliens have refused to reply to our messages of peace and friendship, we can at least try to annoy them.
