heavy-bright-sun/heavy-bright-sun.md

Heavy bright sun

A novel by caryoscelus

Chapter One

"Ha.. Ha.. Ha.."

Heavy erotic panting, smell of sex and perfume and barely perceivable odor of burnt hair — all of this would be experienced by someone who would enter the room at that moment. In reality, nobody entered it. It was empty.

***

— Я не читаю бумажные книги, — a tall man in black leather said in a tired tone, — Но дело не в том, что я не люблю бумагу. Дело в том, что толщина прочитанного и толщина непрочитанного являются своеобразным спойлером, которого я и стараюсь избежать.

I didn't reply. Not only because he wasn't speaking to me, but mostly due to the sad fact that my understanding of russian at the moment was limited to words "да", "бля" and "мартышка". Incidentally, the last one used to be my nickname in college, which i'd rather not talk about in details.

— Поэтому пожалуйста не надо приписывать мне то, чего я не говорил. И уж тем более записывать меня в сообщества, к которым я никакого отношения не имею. Это попросту некрасиво.

Even though i couldn't understand him, i still listened. Not because i enjoy listening to foreign speech — i grew out of it quite some time ago — but because i'm not trained to ignore sounds of human voice when their source is located in immediate proximity.

As i just mentioned, his voice sounded tired, but for all i knew that could be deliberate acting or just a bad habit. The man himself did not look tired. Nor did he had a reason to be tired: he spent twelve out of last twenty four hours sleeping. Though now that i think about it, i probably wasn't aware of that last fact at the time. Still, i was doubting his sincerity.

He listened for reply in his headphones for a while, then took them off, scratched his balding head and finally looked at me.

— Sorry to keep you waiting, — he spoke with that strange accent which many foreigners adopt when they try too hard to sound british.

— No, no. Please, don't apologize, Mr. Blue, — i replied, trying hard not to start mimicking his manner of speech, — I perfectly understand you have other important matters on your mind.

He made a weird sequence of faces, starting with a slight surprise and ending in a slight irritation. At the moment i did not understand reasons for that and was somewhat startled by it and almost forgot to continue.

— I wanted to ask a favor of you, — i opened my handbag and took a small printed photo out of it. Or perhaps it was a cut-out piece of photo.

— You want that man dead? — he replied with what i believed was honest surprise.

***

A big fish floated in the pond. The pond would look too small for the fish to any possible observer, yet the fish, being unaware of it, felt pretty comfortable. It was only to be expected, for the fish spent most of its life in spaces smaller than the pond, sometimes much smaller.

***

— Yes, yes, no and yes, — three hours after leaving Blue i was participating in some stupid rapid question game.

— Yes, no, yes and undecided, — answered the same questions a young woman in front of me.

I remember having started to wonder how can one be undecided about that last question, but honestly i don't even remember what it was about now.

At that point the game was interrupted by the loud speaker announcement. I couldn't hear what exactly it said, but i knew it was a station name and by reaction of my companions i figured it was the station we needed.

We left the suburban train and found ourselves on a short concrete platform, covered by a thin slippery frost. Harsh cold wind blew in our faces and the remaining feeling of warmness and comfort was gone in a matter of seconds.

— Come, Bella, let's move! — somebody pulled me on the shoulder, returning me to present reality.

We walked hurriedly towards the platform end, which to my surprise had no turnstiles and even stairs were in a sorry state. My companions, however, seemed to consider this normal.

Our train left the station, accompanied by pitch-shifting sound of engines and wheels rattling on rail joints. As the last car swept past us, countless railways appeared before our eyes. Or at least so i felt at the moment, for when i saw that station later in the day light, it didn't occur to me that way anymore.

We started crossing those rails, carefully watching our step not to stumble or slip in the dark. Two or three of us turned on pocket lights, but they weren't powerful enough to help others.

Ever since we left the train, my mind started to grow hazy and dreamy and by the time we arrived onto "solid ground" i was being more surprised by the fact that i still walked on than by any peculiar events happening in the world around me.

Still, i remember those events, at least some of them. After leaving the station, we entered dirty and dark town, stole a car and drove on a road that started badly and ended terribly. At that point i finally gave up to haziness and fainted.

***

The bottle stood on the porch, almost as if glancing into the dark night outside. Did someone forget it there in a hurry or left intentionally to drink up later? Or was it maybe placed there as a secret sign to that shady fellow lurking on the street? Or, perhaps, it appeared there by the sheer will of god, who had nothing better to do at the time?

***

I came to on a couch in a small room without windows and a faint night lamp as the only source of light. Despite the under-ventilated atmosphere, i felt refreshed. Having quickly remembered the situation i ended up in, i was amused by how unconcerned i was about it.

— Hey, Izzy, are you always so carefree? — I spoke to myself aloud, which i do way too often when find myself alone in a new environment.

I waited for an answer for a few minutes and when it failed to come, finally got up. As i did, i knocked over some boxes lying on the floor and a small cloud of dust erupted from it, along with rustling sounds. Trying to be more careful, i walked to the door.

I started hearing voices and music when i got close, but sounds really exploded when i opened it. I was startled for i wasn't prepared that this boringly-looking door would be so good at sound isolation. Now only a couple meters of a narrow appendix separated me from the room full of people.

— Ну я ему и говорю, что его монады мне ни к чёрту не сдались! Мне бы однострочник на перле накатать и забыть.

— Давайте ещё по одной!

— Самое интересное происходит, конечно, у тебя в голове. Не на первый день, нет. В первые несколько дней только лёгкий дискомфорт, а вот пробудешь под водой недельки две — вот тогда крыша и начнёт подвижки давать.

— Аааааа! Мочи его!.. Ну давай!

— ..и в итоге такой балаган устроили..

I felt like everybody was talking at once and only some half minute later had a more accurate account of situation. This was indeed quite a typical party at a late stage; most were already high and had already formed circles and cared little of the outside world. There were two things that made it look so strange at first: small room that condensed everybody to the point of circles mixing up and sober me being so out of place.

I had been staying there for a while, watching and listening and pondering, when somebody finally noticed me. It was a bearded guy in a sweater who was involved in some heated discussion that apparently was coming to an end.

— Эй, Белла! Okh, ehrm.. I mean, hey Bella, how was your sleep? — he said, standing up and stumbling around. He had pretty typical russian accent and a particularly funny way of pronouncing interjections like he was reading them letter by letter.

— It was fine, thank you..

I wanted to ask his name, but he read it on my face before i could figure out the most appropriate way of asking.

— You probably don't remember me, do you? I'm Dima. I believe we've met a couple years ago, on that conference... i don't quite remember what it was called.

— Cut those formalities, Diiima. And sit down, you're obstructing my view!

— Oh, Bella, i didn't realize you were here. Fancy running into you here.

— Would you care for a drink? Or would you prefer some pot?

Suddenly everybody became aware of me and then in a few moments i was in the center of attention. I took the joint offered to me by the girl who was "undecided" back on the train (and whom i barely recognized for she looked quite different with loose hair and casual clothes). It wasn't my first time to smoke weed, but still i hesitated for a few moments for i had all the reasons to expect the unexpected.

***

Slow fan made slow chopping sounds as its blades were cutting throw the thick dirty air. The air was always bad here, always hard to cut through, but the fan had to work without a minute's rest. Ever since it was launched, it never stopped. Ever since it was installed, it was never seen by a living being.

But what did it matter? The fan would continue working forever, if it must, for it was perfect.

Глава вторая

Яркое летнее солнце будит меня, пробившись лучами сквозь щели жалюзи, и я мгновенно осознаю, что опаздываю. Нет времени на размышления, и всё же натягивая школьную форму, я успеваю подумать о том, как редактор вырежет все мои неуклюжие движения и очередное моё утро превратится в идеальный образчик современного монтажа.

Однако мне нет дела до её трудностей и я без малейших угрызений совести оставляю кровать не заправленной, а окна — зашторенными. Прохожу в кухню и здороваюсь с холодильником:

— Охайо гозаэмасс, рэзокко-сан. Кёомо йорощку нэ.

Холодильник отвечает довольным жужжанием. Я открываю дверцу и достаю пачку йогурта, которая сегодня сойдёт за завтрак. Закрываю дверцу, кладу йогурт на стол, достаю ложку и, произнеся дежурное "итадакимасс!", приступаю к своей нехитрой трапезе.

Через пять минут последний раз окидываю взглядом квартиру и размышляю о том, что в такие моменты было бы неплохо иметь настенные часы. Но тянуться в карман за смартом только для того, чтобы уточнить на сколько минут я опаздываю, мне откровенно лень.

Выйдя из подъезда, в очередной раз проклинаю местный климат: если даже сейчас уже можно почувствовать жар солнечных лучей, то к полудню можно ожидать форменный ад.

Спускаясь с холма, машинально обращаю внимание на отсутствие утренней толпы школьников — ещё один индикатор моего опоздания. Вместо школьников вместе со мной идут хмурые "сарариманы" и случайно выползшие в столь ранний час ниты. Мне, впрочем, нет до них никакого дела, но я не ускоряю шаг, потому что уже и так иду с крейсерской скоростью.

А вот и школа, в которой меня как обычно ждут увлекательные приключения обыкновенного школьника. Первым приключением станет преодоление кордона, выставленного доблестным ученическим советом для отлова опоздавших (тот факт, что сами дежурные из-за этого задерживаются на уроки, конечно мало кого волнует).

Представляю, как обрадовался бы продюсер, если бы для преодоления этого препятствия я бы разбежался и с боевым кличем пронёсся через вход мимо дежурных на сверхзвуковой скорости. Или попросту запрыгнул бы в окно, избежав любых контактов с ними. Но я не буду радовать их подобными вещами: не говоря уже обо всём прочем, это попросту дурной вкус.

Вместо этого я рассматриваю два основных варианта: понадеяться на то, что мне повезёт с дежурными, или на то, что где-нибудь на первом этаже будет открытое окно. Вообще-то мы — комитет по борьбе с узаконенным насилием — всегда стараемся оставлять эту лазейку для опаздывающих, но к сожалению учсовет и учителя тоже не дремлют и регулярно ходят и закрывают окна.

Потратив почти минуту на размышления и не придя ни к какому выводу, я решил всё же свериться с часами. 8:31 — последний звонок прозвенел минуту назад, значит с вероятностью около 60% меня не станут сопровождать к директору или завучу, но отругают и сделают соответствующую запись, если только мне не удастся как-нибудь договориться. Если же я потрачу время на поиски отрытого хода, а потом вернусь к официальному входу, вероятность что меня загребут достигнет 86%.

"Щёганай-нэ" — бормочу себе под нос я. Остаётся последнее средство.

Я достаю из портфеля первую попавшуюся тетрадь и вырываю из неё листок. Складываю его вдвое, затем, повторяя привычные движения, делаю ещё несколько изгибов и наконец самолётик готов. Критически осматриваю его и, не обнаружив особых недостатков, отправляю лететь.

Сделать бумажный самолётик может каждый, но не каждый самолётик полетит далеко. однако я потратил немало часов на совершенствование этого мастерства и теперь не сомневаюсь в своём превосходстве.

И действительно, ветер подхватывает его и самолётик летит вперёд и вверх, поднимаясь вдоль школьных стен и как будто насмехаясь над учениками и учителями, запертыми внутри. Я представляю как любопытные взоры обращаются к окнам, а недовольные взрослые начинают ворчать в ответ.

Сам же я разворачиваюсь и иду в противоположную сторону. Порыв встречного ветра ударяет мне в лицо и на несколько мгновений, закрыв глаза, я представляю себя героем, преодолевающим все трудности на своём пути. Открыв глаза, я оглядываюсь в пустой надежде разглядеть блики камеры, прячущейся в кустах или в соседнем доме.

Затем я возвращаюсь к реальности и поворачиваю за угол. Опять оглядываюсь по сторонам — теперь уже чтобы проверить, нет ли поблизости учителей или других "опасных" личностей. "All clear", — заключаю я и, подпрыгнув, хватаюсь рукой за пожарную лестницу.

Подтянувшись, я ползу вверх, балансируя между скоростью и безопасностью подъёма. И, конечно, представляю восторг режиссёра и его довольную физиономию (не то что бы я имел что-то против него, но у него настолько примечательное лицо, что трудно называть его иначе как физиономией).

Но если зрители будут убеждены, что для меня это раз плюнуть, то я-то разумеется знаю, насколько это далеко от истины. Я пытаюсь игнорировать страх, но на самом деле мои конечности начинают ощутимо дрожать уже на середине лестницы и единственное, что спасает меня от позорного бегства — то, что возвращаться назад ничуть не спокойнее.

Преодолев третий этаж, я делаю небольшую передышку. Обычно в такой ситуация я бы послушал любимую группу, чтобы подбодрить себя, но сейчас не лучшее время доставать смарт и наушники. Поэтому я лишь напеваю шёпотом пару строчек из песни:

"It doesn't matter how hard my life can be, sore demo i won't give up makeruki shinai!"

Хоть немного зарядившись энергией, я ползу дальше. Вспотевшие ладони проскальзывают, но всё так же отчаянно продолжают цепляться за холодные металлические перекладины.

Наконец, мой подъём, превратившийся уже в пытку, подходит к концу. Я хватаюсь за поручни ведущие на крышу и подтягиваю свою уставшую тушку на уже горячий рубероид.

Да уж, надо сказать, что я не ожидал такого исхода, когда, небрежно запуская самолётик, решил лезть на крышу. Я, конечно, сумел пробраться в школу в обход заград-отряда, но теперь вынужден просто лежать на крыше и приходить в себя. А, впрочем, пошло оно всё к чёрту!

Подумав так, я ложусь поудобнее, кладу под голову портфель и смотрю на чистое голубое небо. В отличии от известного персонажа, мне нет дела до размышлений о красоте или человечности, или смысле жизни, или какой-то ещё ерунде — я просто наслаждаюсь своим (не)заслуженным отдыхом.

Но, увы, расслаблялся я не долго.

"Бамммм" — над крышей раздаётся резкий металлический звук, и, обернувшись, я вижу распахнувшуюся дверь, а за ней чёрную-пречёрную ауру. Проходит несколько мгновений саспенса и я успеваю придумать несчётное количество сценариев своей безвременной кончины, прежде чем наконец на сцену вылезает виновник шума.

Или, точнее, виновница — Токисака Айка, известная на всю школу как лучшая ученица по математике (не только в своей параллели, но за всю историю школы) и строгая блюстительница правил. Элегантным движением поправив юбку, она выходит из тени на освещённую солнцем крышу и, гневно сверкая глазами, направляется в мою сторону.

Тут я наконец понимаю, что как бы я не тренировал своё воображение, оно всё ещё не дотягивает до того, что порой преподносит реальность. Но чтобы ни уготовила мне судьба, надо принимать её удары с достоинством и я поднимаюсь с колен и отряхиваю форму, пытаясь выглядеть как можно спокойнее.

И кажется мне это удаётся в достаточной мере, чтобы Токисака пришла в бешенство.

— Омаэ.. омаэ.. — шепчет она, подойдя ко мне на расстояние в пару метров.

На мгновение мне приходит в голову мысль ответить "Охайо гозаэмасс, Токисака-сама" и как ни в чём не бывало пройти мимо. Но рассудок тут же возвращается ко мне и я понимаю, что если сделаю так — уже не отделаюсь каким-то там походом к директору. Однако ничего лучше я придумать не могу и продолжаю стоять молча.

— Омаэ-на, — наконец, она немного успокаивается и приходит в себя, — нани о щте ирунда конна токорони?

Её интонация и даже лицо подозрительно спокойны, но я слишком хорошо знаю её, чтобы принимать это за чистую монету. Я тщетно пытаюсь придумать оправдание, которое прозвучит достаточно убедительно, чтобы она не сбросила меня с крыши на месте.

"Вчера вечером я задремал на крыше и проспал начало уроков, потому что забыл завести будильник" — нет, не то. Даже несмотря на то, что часть про будильник соответствует действительности, всё остальное — слишком абсурдное враньё.

"Я только что прилетел на такси-вертолёте, но поскольку я почувствовал себя плохо в дороге, решил прилечь отдохнуть" — ну это уже вообще ни в какие ворота не лезет.

Не сумев придумать ничего лучше, я говорю правду или, во всяком случае, часть правды.

— Ано-нэ, Токисака-сан, орега-нэ.. нэсугощи мащта.

Сказав это, я тут же понимаю, какую глупость сморозил. Проспать-то я, конечно, проспал, но это вряд ли объясняет то, как я оказался на крыше.

— Соре дэ? — невозмутимо требует продолжения Токисака, как будто ожидала подобного ответа.

— Цкамаэтакунай кара, хащиго ноботта.

— Дэ? Соре га сэцумеи наренай кедо.

Это в конец меня озадачило. Какого ещё ответа она может ждать от меня?

— Макемащта, — ответил я первое, что пришло в голову и поклонился, — Аната но качи дэсу.

— Аа, гаккари, — как ни странно, Токисака оказалась скорее разочарованной таким ответом, чем разгневанной или раздражённой. Тёмная аура, которую я почувствовал в первый момент её появления, как будто испарилась пока я пытался оправдаться.

Додумав все самые насущные мысли, я замечаю, что мы всё ещё стоим друг напротив друга. Потихоньку реальность возвращается ко мне, и я понимаю, что, какой бы странной ни была текущая ситуация, нам так или иначе надо идти на уроки. Но указывать на это моей непредсказуемой собеседнице совсем не хочется и я лишь достаю смарт — свериться с часами. На экране 8:40 и никакого сочувствия опоздавшим.

— Пфф, — Токисака морщится, — цумаранай йацу.

Не добавив ни слова больше, она разворачивается и решительной походкой направляется к выходу с крыши. Промедлив несколько секунд, я бегу за ней.

Chapter Three

Finally i sat on the floor near the wall — in a first place that was relatively free and "secure": i always prefer to have solid cover behind my back. On my right there was a circle of three people staring at a small flat screen hanging on the wall. Two of them were also gripping some controllers and clicking on buttons. Apparently they were playing some old-school game. I stared at the screen for a while, trying to understand what it was about, but then my attention was grabbed by someone patting on my shoulder.

It was that same girl from before; apparently she took an interest in me or something. I still didn't know her name, so i opened my mouth to ask, but she spoke first.

— So, how are you enjoying the party?

The question startled me a bit, since i was lying asleep in the next room just a few minutes ago. But then i realized she might have been partying too hard to notice.

— I'm just warming up, you know. But it's kind of nostalgic. I haven't been at a party ever since i left college.

— Mmm, i suppose you're not a party-goer type. May i guess what brings you here then?

— Eh, sure, go ahead.

She tilted her head a bit, a gesture that looked well-rehearsed. I should admit it still looked pretty damn cool.

— You're looking for someone, aren't ya? — she spoke in a such way that i could not possibly guess what she was implying, if she even implied anything.

— Maybe, — i tried to play along for a while and said that with a hint of smile.

It was too early to jump to conclusions. That girl could have been a spy, an unexpected ally, an overly nosy observer. Or she could have been flirting with me without any back thoughts.

— Incidentally, i didn't quite catch your name, — i decided i should take initiative to have some time to consider further actions.

— Ah, i'm terribly sorry. I'm Sasha. Sasha Ginzburg, freelance journalist and fanfic writer, — she laughed nervously — I didn't mean to sound so formal though. It's just my habit to introduce myself like that when talking in english.

— Isabella Norton, pleased to meet you, — i said in a satirically formal tone and made a joking bow, — At the moment i'm an unemployed traveller, spending my severance pay.

I could see some confusion on her face and thought for a moment that she might have not understand the term i used, but then she smiled understandingly. We looked at each other for a few more moments before bursting into laughter.

***

A person in a bright masquerade costume sat alone on an expensive-looking sofa. "Is it a man or a woman?" was the question that many asked themselves seeing that person, but nobody ever dared to ask aloud. Presently, there was nobody else in the room, yet the person started to talk in a sweet androgynous voice:

— It is my pleasure to have appeared here, after travelling through many places and pages, yet my stay won't be long for other matters are waiting for my attention.

And then, in a puff of smoke, the person seemed to disappear.

***

There was a strange moment of silence and i became acutely aware of tension that have been accumulating in the "gamers' club" for a while now. It ended up with a muted explosion sound, followed by exasperated exclamation. Apparently those two finally lost their game. They got up, stretching their limbs, and went off, cursing loudly.

The third guy, who i dubbed "observer", continued to stare at the screen for a few dozen seconds and then looked at the room expectantly. When his gaze met mine, he stopped and said in a hopeful voice:

— Хочешь сыграть?

I could guess he was asking me something, but there wasn't enough context to guess what it was about. His face started to look puzzled when i failed to reply or give any sign of understanding.

— He asks whether you want to play, — Sasha translated, rescuing both of us, — We could play together, if you'd like.

— Ah, yes, you both welcome, — replied the "observer", apparently feeling flustered by the situation.

I was a bit confused myself, for i was too engaged in my paranoid thoughts to be expecting so sudden intrusion.

— Come on, lets do it, — noticing my indecisiveness, Sasha pulled me along and i found myself in front of the big pulsating label "Play Again?.." placed on a static explosion background.

— Huh, so you're into this stuff too? — i asked her after failing to come up with anything better to say.

— What are you talking about? Everybody is into this stuff these days! It's fucking S.T.U.F.F. — she literally pronounced it letter-by-letter and i was unsure whether that was to indicate significance of the word or a proper name, — And don't worry if you don't understand something: i'll be right here to help.

— But before you start, — the "observer" added, — i explain you couple things. First of all, i am master of game, Orpheus. Second: if you win, you get prize.

Self-proclaimed master Orpheus made an especial emphasis on the word "prize", implying some significance. Perhaps it was meant to encourage me being competitive, but i had no plans of immersing myself too much and losing my vigilance.

Nevertheless, i picked up controller and prepared for an unknown battle.

***

It moved slowly and almost peacefully, but it never averted its gaze from its prey. It tried to appear big and fluffy, but to no avail. The prey, the observers and even the tiny drop of water could clearly see its evil nature.

***

"Booom" — the car crashed in front of me, dealing massive damage. I ran further down the street, trying to get away from all the explosive stuff that seemed to be so attracted to me.

— Bella, on your right!

At this point i already had no idea where did this voice come or whose voice it was, but i instantly dodged and turned back, ready to shoot. But when i saw what was coming, i ended up doing a couple more rollbacks before finally enjoying the sight of another explosion. This time it was a fucking helicopter falling onto the street. I started wondering how long it would take to escalate into nuclear shoot-out between starship squadrons.

But then a few moments later i was back in game, trying to find a peaceful place to heal. I ended up crashing through the windows into some fashion store and had to kill all the security guards who supposedly continued to protect the store, never-minding apocalypse happening on the streets. After the last guard dropped dead, i picked up first-aid box and started wondering what i was doing there.

"What am i doing in this war-torn city? Who am i fighting? Who am i running away from?" — i thought while bandaging my blood-covered limbs. Then a warning voice returned me into battle-state:

— We can't be staying here much longer. Sniper squad has already been deployed, they'll hunt us down quickly.

— Where do we go then?

— The basement.

I threw away the remaining bandages and went running after Sasha, who was already approaching a small door with "Staff only" sign on it. Luckily for us, the door was open and there was nobody inside. We run throw the maze of corridors that finally led us to a badly lit stair well. I was amazed at how easily Sasha was choosing the right path as if she was familiar with the place.

Our steps made hollow reverberated sounds as we ran down the stairs. For a while it was the only noise to be heard, save for our panting and heartbeat. But then another sound joined in: it was the alarm sirens, going off on a few different floors at the same time.

"Why?" — meanwhile, i continued to ponder, — "Why should i run through these wailing sounds, through the blood of my enemies and innocent by-standers, through the never-ending screams and curses?"

I couldn't name a single reason, yet i continued running further down, continued to shoot back at hordes of faceless black jacket men who were attacking us in waves coming from one floor or another.

Finally, after a seemingly endless descending, we came to a stop on the bottom floor.

***

There was a tiny spot of dirt on the window. An old butler tried to wipe it out, but failed. A young maid tried to wipe it, but failed. So the tiny spot of dirt remained on the window.

***

As we entered the bottom basement floor proper and the door behind shut, i found myself disoriented by the darkness. For a few seconds i realized i'm literally staring at a black screen, but then my vision adopted and i could discern silhouettes of surroundings. We were in a big — if not huge — room, mostly empty, except for some weird-looking structure in the middle. It was also surprisingly silent: no sirens, no gunshots, no running steps.

As if to preserve that silence, we didn't speak and walked slowly forward. It was hard to judge distance in the darkness, especially after that crazy run through the stairs, so it took us more than i expected to get to that structure.

When we finally approached it, i realized it was a sculpture of a kind. But it was still too dark to see it clearly and after stumbling in buttons for a few seconds i turned on my flashlight.

It was a weird sculpture alright. A few tentacles rose from a simple pedestal; atop them were several bodies, — i couldn't even count them properly for they were interconnected with each other, — concluded with one double-faced head. The face looking at the entrance had a cunning smile and sad eyes, but i could only see a single eye of the second face. At least five hands were advancing from it: one was holding a coffee cup, another was forming a fist, yet another was barely gripping a double-edged sword.

I moved around the sculpture to see the rest of it, but no matter how much steps i made i couldn't see more than a corner of an eye of its second face. It took me a half of a circle to realize the statue was following me. When i did, i immediately did a double-roll to the right, expecting laser beams or something.

But the stone creature merely followed me with its gaze and gave no other signs of being alive or otherwise active.

— What's up with that piece of stone?! — i almost cried for i was pretty disturbed by its behaviour.

— I'm trying to figure out that myself, — Sasha replied after a few daunting seconds of silence. She spoke in an oddly calm voice, which only made me feel even more anxious.

Meanwhile, as i was standing still, nothing changed. I looked around and saw Sasha a dozen meters form, looking at the sculpture intently. Other then her and the statue, the room was still empty, yet something deep inside was telling me that something was wrong. Not even the statue, something else.

I made a three-sixty degree turn around, trying to pierce the darkness before the creatures lurking there would disappear. But there were no creatures, there was nothing to be afraid of. The only thing that i was truly afraid now was that i found myself in this big dark room with a weird stone structure in its center and only one supposed ally and a semi-automatic in my hand.

Глава четвёртая

Неспешно спускаясь по лестнице — во время урока и в нескольких шагах от одной из лучших учениц школы — я чувствую себя довольно сумбурно.

Где-то на задворках сознания мелькают мысли о предстоящем разговоре с учителем, но уже даже выскочило из головы, какой же сейчас предмет у нашего класса.

Куда ближе к поверхности мысли о нашем разговоре, а ещё ближе — о самой Токисаке Айке, шагающей впереди меня с таким видом, как будто всё время мира в её распоряжении. Впрочем, может быть так себя и должны чувствовать ученики, которые посещают занятия скорее из жалости к учителям, чем ради получения знаний.

Но даже если так, зачем вообще она притащилась за мной на крышу? Не похоже, чтобы она собиралась доложить обо мне "начальству", в особой любви к которому (несмотря на всю свою правильность) она в общем-то замечена не была.

Впрочем, вряд ли Токисаку вообще можно обвинить в чрезмерных чувствах по отношению к чему-либо. Я могу припомнить несколько случаев, когда она была раздражена на кого-то и демонстративно показывала это, но такие эпизоды не затягивались надолго. Гораздо чаще её можно было обнаружить сидящей в задумчивом одиночестве на подоконнике или весело (но порой немного отстранённо) болтающей с подругами.

Ходили слухи, что в прошлом году, когда она только поступила в старшую школу, Токисака была чрезвычайно популярна среди парней. Якобы она получила несколько десятков признаний и все их отвергла с полным безразличием, и через некоторое время внимание к ней поубавилось. Хотя, зная как легко разрастаются у нас сплетни, не могу сказать, чтобы я верил во всё это буквально. Но в целом это было вполне на неё похоже.

Так вот, зачем же такой самодостаточной ученице лезть во время уроков на крышу и приставать с расспросами к малоизвестному ей первогодке? Неужели она заметила меня из окна пока я лез по пожарной лестнице и заинтересовалась происходящим настолько, чтобы самой во всём разобраться? Непонятно.

Как бы я не размышлял надо всем этим, мои вопросы остаются без ответа, а Токисака тем временем доходит до дверей своего кабинета. На прощанье она лишь одаряет меня холодным взглядом и, не говоря ни слова, входит в класс.

Ну что же, пора и мне на урок. Я бреду дальше по коридору, пока не дохожу до двери с вывеской 1-C. Взявшись за ручку двери, я наконец понимаю, что вместо пустых размышлений о Токисаке мне следовало бы подумать о том, что я скажу учителю.

Однако, войдя в класс я понимаю, что мои опасения были напрасны. Место учителя пустует, ученики сбились в группы и болтают между собой. У доски извечная парочка "художников" рисует всякий трэш. Словом, самообучение в самом разгаре.

На шум двери в мою сторону оборачивается несколько одноклассников, кто-то пытается выглядеть прилежным учеником и спрятать улики, приняв меня за учителя. Но вскоре всё успокаивается и лишь один парень продолжает пялиться на меня.

— Йо, Лёща — произносит он, — Нани о щини китта но? Кёщи га най дэс кедо.

— Охайо, Щиньджи. Кёо мо геньки дэс нэ? — я сажусь на своё место и раскладываю вещи.

Похоже, что ещё полчаса мне придётся выслушивать болтовню этого типа, но я не сдамся так просто. Не обращая внимания на его недовольное лицо, я смотрю на доску. Среди разнообразной мазни, поселившейся там, едва можно различить несколько серьёзных иероглифов, по всей видимости оставленных учителем. Но, судя по всему там нет каких-то конкретных заданий, а даже если есть — мне уже никак не разобраться в написанном. В таком случае можно просто заняться домашкой на завтра.

— ..Хьто но ханащи кике-ё! — тем временем продолжает Щиньджи, предыдущие реплики которого я прослушал.

— Варуй-варуй, — извниняюсь я с натянутой улыбочкой.

— Моо, дайджина кото дэс кедо! Оретачи ва караоке ни ики о цуморимас. Ащта но гого ни. Дэ, анта га ику дещё?

— Караоке-нээ, — задумчиво протягиваю я. Вообще-то я ничего не имею против караоке, но зная Щиньджи, отношусь к этой затее подозрительно. Когда он приглашал меня в прошлый раз, это был просто какой-то клуб разбитых сердец. — Хьтоцу но щицмон га аримасс. Соно "оретачи" ва дарэ?

— Цуметай даё, Лёща. Оре га ику но кото га таринай то юу но?

— Ээ, маттаку соно тори дэс! Таринаи н даё. Анататачи но кои но ями ва омощирой дэ ва най н дэс, — произношу я, стараясь прозвучать как можно убедительнее.

— Щинью то омотта, — отвечает Щиньджи театрально-печальным голосом, — Маа, щкатай дэс. Аната га джёсэй га иру то икенай но нара, цуретэ ики мисэру!

— Вакатта-вакатта, — говорю я, не особо вслушиваясь в сказанное, но тут же понимаю, что что-то не так, — Ээ? Нан то юуно?

— Кики но тоори! — Щиньджи отворачивается, изображая обиду.

М-да. Похоже, что я подписался на что-то лишнее. Если Щиньджи действительно сумеет затащить на своё караоке каких-нибудь девчонок, мне придётся прийти. А если не сумеет и я не приду, он меня ещё долго будет дразнить "несчастным лавеласом". "Щката га най", думаю я про себя. Произносить это в слух было бы слишком опрометчиво и я молча принимаюсь за домашку по математике.

***

Звонок звенит как раз перед тем, как я ставлю последнюю точку в последнем уравнении. Поставив эту точку, я наблюдаю как ученики разбредаются на перемену. Впрочем, больше половины остаётся в классе и лишь группируется в кучки.

Я вспоминаю утренний инцидент и выхожу вслед за одноклассниками в коридор — мне надо пройтись и обдумать случившееся. Тем более, если вдруг меня заметил кто-то из учителей (что довольно невероятно само по себе, но всё же не исключено, учитывая, что меня нашла Токисака), уж лучше будет встретиться с ними вне стен нашего класса.

С такими мыслями я прогуливаясь по коридору, то и дело здороваясь со знакомыми. Никаких умных мыслей в голову не приходит. Дойдя до выхода на лестницу, я поворачиваю обратно и ловлю себя на мысли, что в какой-то мере ожидал встретить кого-то, кто заговорил бы со мной. Но, конечно, я не настолько популярен, чтобы быть в центре внимания каждую перемену и в итоге я возвращаюсь в класс ни с чем.

— Дощитэ сонна као суруно, Лёща? Мата хьтори дэ аруку но ва цумаранай дэс ка? — встречает меня единственный человек, всегда готовый подбодрить меня своим излишним вниманием.

— Анта но кучи кара сонна кото кикитаку най, — отвечаю ему в тон.

Щиньджи, конечно, на этом не успокаивается и наша унылая перебранка продолжается. Когда звонок на урок наконец звенит, я даже немного удивлён тем, куда же ушла вся перемена.

— Охайо, минна! — провозглашает слишком несерьёзным для своего положения голосом вошедшая учитель, — кёо мо ёрощку нэ.

— Охайо гозаэмас, Сасаки-сэнсэй — отзывается класс.

Так начинается второй урок — физика. Вообще-то, я не слишком интересуюсь физикой как предметом, но наш учитель рассказывает с такой увлечённостью что трудно оставаться незаинтересованным. И я послушно строчу в тетради конспект происходящего.

***

Наконец наступает долгожданный обеденный перерыв. Сегодня я не взял бэнто и потому иду вслед за толпой в столовую. Выходя из класса, я почти ощущаю на себе ехидный взгляд Щиньджи, который, напротив, в кои-то веки обедает в классе.

Проходя по коридору, я машинально притормаживаю у кабинета 2-B. Именно в него сегодня утром зашла Токисака. Но мне, впрочем, не должно быть до этого никакого дела и я прохожу мимо. Ещё с полминуты я думаю, что она вот-вот окликнет меня или похлопает по плечу, но в реальности ничего столь интересного не происходит.

Дойдя до столовой, я становлюсь в очередь, в которой никому нет малейшего дела до моих мыслей. Тут все по-своему равны — от первогодок до выпускников...

Хотя, пожалуй, это не совсем верно, думаю я, заметив робкого паренька из 1-B, заказывающего слишком много булочек. Да, и в нашей школе встречаются желающие воспользоваться своими преимуществами в корыстных целях. И, конечно, те, кто согласятся на что угодно, лишь бы их поменьше трогали. Дождавшись своей очереди, я заказываю омлет с помидорами и рис, и, получив свою порцию, занимаю первое попавшееся место.

Проходит несколько десятков секунд, прежде чем до меня наконец доходит, что я сел за один столик с компанией Харуки — персонажа, известного на всю школу своей задиристостью.

Chapter Five

The leaves were falling from the lotus tree. The days were getting shorter. It was, without a doubt, autumn. A time when everything either dies or at least withers into obscurity, falls into abyss or flies off into the deep dark space.

I did neither. Ergo i didn't exist.

***

My head hurt. Or was it really head? I couldn't quite understand for everything was quite mixed up. The statue was no longer gazing at me, which in different circumstances would be a relief, but now i felt like it was the last real thing i could concentrate on and when it disappeared i only felt a cold void creeping into me.

Then i remembered that i should have still had a gun in my hand, but when i tried to feel my hand, it was nowhere to be found either. "Am i disappearing altogether?", i thought briefly, but then something bright attracted my attention. I followed it instinctively, without giving myself any time to process what's happening.

For a while i felt like i am floating in an abstract space, hopelessly trying to catch up with that faint pulsating light. Then suddenly the light stopped moving away and i fell straight into it and everything became blank white around me. I looked at my body and strangely enough i could now see it, or rather its vague undulating outlines. As i did, a stray thought occurred to me: "i shouldn't be watching myself so intently, or i'm going to morph away".

As i switched my gaze, i could see background going darker and rapidly losing dpi. For a moment i though i could see bare pixels, but then they stretched into black lines on yellow. Zooming away, i finally understood what that truly was: an endless chain of tractors harvesting the wheat crops.

"Alright, the wheat is covered, but what about the rice fields?" i thought, walking on the lonely road that stretched from one horizon to another.

"Nobody cares for rice in these chambers", the voice came from nowhere, "for the winter comes too early and eats away everything."

"Ah, is that so?", i pronounced inside my head, feeling like i've come close to understanding something truly important. But then the road suddenly come to a crossing and i had to choose where to go and all other thoughts withered away.

I turned right for no apparent reason, except for a feeble gut feeling that told me there was cool water somewhere along those lines. And indeed there was; soon i walked into the bridge over a small river and, feeling like sun is going to burn me, stepped into the water and under the bridge.

It was a bit darker and a few kilometers longer than it appeared from the outside, but i marched on bravely. A few shadows passed me as i walked silently walked further. I felt thirsty, but couldn't force myself to drink the dirty water i was walking in. When i looked into it, i saw my own reflected face; it looked thin and under-fed, but somehow its eyes shone with happiness.

I felt like something was off about that reflection and touched my face. The bandage was in place, its coarse fabric feeling reassuring against my palm. I looked again into the water and two laughing eyes looked back at me. Finally, the revelation stroke me: my mind has wandered off in a different realm and i should better return swiftly.

But even as i realized that, i still had no idea what exactly to do. I stood still for some time that i won't even dare to approximate, and then something bumped into my back. I ran forward, away from it, and soon found myself back in the fields. There were no tractors anymore, nor any crops, only tranquil green of raw grass, not limited by any artificial or natural boundaries.

"This can go on forever", i thought and in attempt to get rid of the scenery closed my eye. The green disappeared, but the darkness didn't come. My mind was now filled with blue, both the color and the mood.

***

"Go on, go on, go on", somebody preached in the darkness. And then repeated those tiny useless words a half dozen times more. And then again, and again, and again. It no longer sounded like an urge to continue, but it attained a certain beat to it that was pushing forward, until it succeeded to surface.

***

Then i started to hear distant voices. Then i started to feel distant warmth.

And finally, the room with a small pulsating screen and a whole crowd of people came crashing into me like a spring thunder. I felt my hands stuck on a sweaty controller and my right index finger still clicking mindlessly, as if counting a fast tempo.

— Welcome back, — somebody whispered in my ear, — and congratulations.

The voice sounded familiar, but i was still processing the yellow and the green and the blue in my head to recognize it. I tried to concentrate on the screen and finally could make out blinking words written on it: "Play Again?"

I almost screamed "no" in response, but then it occurred to me that acting that way might be not appropriate to situation. I looked around and saw that not much changed in the real world since i entered this "fucking stuff".

The only people who apparently noticed something was wrong with me were Sasha and Orpheus. The rest of the party crowd were still happily chatting like nothing happened. And then i thought that maybe nothing happened indeed: in the end, it was just my imagination going wild under the drugs and it was quite possible that i didn't act especially alerting during the trip.

— Congrats, girls! You survived for a whooping twenty five minutes. And now, if i may.. — Orpheus made a gesture, requesting us to move away, — we have new contestants to attend S.T.U.F.F. concourse.

I reluctantly moved away, still trying to process what he was saying. Twenty five minutes?! How long of that did i spend sanely and how long was i wandering through the mazes of my mind?

— Not feeling good? — suddenly whispered Sasha, — Why don't we go breath some fresh air.

She said that and dragged me out of the room. Having no energy or reason to refuse, i followed.

***

Each of the four seasons has its own merit, or so the god said.

Let the spring show the creation, let the summer show the life, let the autumn show the bewilderment and let the winter show the wisdom.

"Bommm" — the bell ringed, filling the neighbourhood. But there was nobody to hear it and eventually the silence won.

***

In the dark cold atmosphere of the northern night i quickly came to senses.

— You did surprisingly well, — as if noticing that i'm finally ready to talk, Sasha said; there was a hint of reverie in her voice.

"What was it?!" — i wanted to say, for now i remembered that the joint and the game were both forced (?) onto me by her.

— Did you expect any less of me? — i said instead, — That's what i call lack of faith!

— Ha-ha, don't be so offended! How was i supposed to know that you're so good at fighting, games and... — she trailed off, as if provoking me to guess what was it that she left unsaid.

— Well, you shouldn't have asked somebody to be your partner if you don't believe in them, — i replied, trying to sound mildly offended.

— Even if you say so, i'm not as much interested in winning or the game itself as i'm interested in you, — her voice suddenly became sweet and suggesting at the end of the phrase.

— Is that so?.. — i continued the pretense, — There's not much interesting about someone like me. I suppose you might consider me different for being foreigner, but as far as my experience go, people are not much different around the globe.

— I'm inclined to believe that, but i suppose you misunderstood me, — she said in a playful voice with a hint of resentment, — I'm not interested in you merely because you speak a different language. No, if i feel mystery in you, then you must be the most interesting person in the world, and.. — she trailed off again and i finally understood this could have gone too far.

***

"The moment you start talking is the moment you're doomed to tell lies", an abstract voice spoke in someone's mind, "The moment you start writing", it continued, "is not much different. The subtle difference lies, of course, in the amount of lies communicated".

Глава шестая

Мне в принципе безразлично, с кем делить трапезу, и я без особых размышлений принимаюсь есть. Но даже я чувствую напряжение в воздухе, судя по всему вызванное моим появлением. Впрочем, отступить — или попросту уйти, выражаясь менее изощрённым языком — уже поздно. Если я помешал своим появлением, остаётся только встретить уготованное судьбой наказание.

Проходит пару минут прежде чем первая пешка Харуки наконец открывает рот в мою сторону. Но не успевает он произнести и звука, как на сцену выходит — или точнее, садится — новое лицо.

— Конна токоро ни итта ка, Лёща? — через чур бодрым голосом произносит подсевшая ко мне девушка.

— Юки? — обернувшись, я вижу незнакомку с сиреневыми волосами, завитыми в маленькие косички. Глаза, того же оттенка, обрамлены чёрными ресницами.

Несколько секунд я рассматриваю её в удивлении, но наконец приходит узнавание: это действительно Сакура Юки, вот только полностью сменившая свой имидж.

— Нани, одоройта? — задорно говорит она.

— Ээ, маттаку. Бецуджинь митай.

— А-а, нандэ конна кото иттэиру? "А, ю бикам со бьютифур!" — произносит она с театральным пафосом в голосе, — то иттэ нареба мотто урещи дэскедо, — Юки продолжает уже более естественным голосом, и наконец, после небольшой паузы добавляет совсем обыденно, — Маа, ик-ка. Сориёри, итадакимас!

И она принимается за свой обед: суп, рис, пара жаренных рыбёшек, а также некий загадочный десерт в стеклянной вазочке. По сравнению с этим изобилием, моя трапеза выглядит скромной.

Перед тем, как вернуться к еде, я украдкой гляжу на компанию напротив. На моё удивление они полностью стушевались и лишь молча едят, не подавая признаков враждебности.

Вскоре мои блюда пустеют и я, вытерев рот салфеткой и отложив палочки в сторону, принимаюсь за кофий. Он слегка остыл, но меня это не слишком беспокоит.

Неспешно потягивая свой напиток, я наблюдаю за трапезой Юки и удивляюсь, как столь маленькое тело может поглотить так много пищи. Впрочем, она всегда заказывает большие обеды.

"Аса мещи куванай кара", — ответила она как-то на прямой вопрос, ничуть при этом не обидевшись.

Впрочем, я вообще не помню чтобы она обижалась на кого-нибудь за всё время нашего знакомства. Всегда весёлая и энергичная — такова Сакура Юки, несмотря на своё прохладное имя.

— Со-со, аната ни ёджи га ару; канзэнни васуремащта, — внезапно обращается ко мне Юки, закончив свою трапезу.

— Ёджи дэс ка? — отвечаю я на автомате.

— Э-э, мисэтай кото га аримасс. Джётто цкиаттэ, — она хватает меня за руку и тянет за собой.

Делать нечего — я совсем не в настроении противостоять энергии и напору Юки. Я ставлю пустую чашку на поднос и беру его в свободную левую руку. Какими бы важными не были дела Юки, не думаю, что её затруднит потратить несколько секунд на то, чтобы отнести грязную посуду. Она смотрит на меня с нетерпением, но всё же не препятствует моим действиям.

Разобравшись с посудой, мы выходим из столовой и направляемся вверх по лестнице. К моему удивлению мы проходим мимо второго и третьего этажей и останавливаемся на четвёртом, где расположены лишь клубные комнаты.

Минуя комнату клуба лёгкой музыки, из которой раздаются звуки одинокой бас-гитары, повторяющей одну и ту же фразу, мы входим в комнату самого законспирированного клуба нашей школы. Официально он называется "Ридин букс ревью коммити", но настоящее его имя — "Ригарайзу борёку но резистансу коммити".

Впрочем, комната ничем не выдаёт настоящей сути нашей организации. Небольшой шкаф, стол и несколько стульев составляют весь интерьер. У окна стоит компьютер, к которому подключён небольшой монитор на столе, клавиатура и мышь. Ещё на столе разбросано несколько брошюрок, имеющих прямое отношение к официальной деятельности клуба.

Когда мы входим, мне в глаза сразу бросается то, что все члены комитета уже собрались и что-то горячо обсуждает, стоя вокруг монитора.

— Охайо, минна, — произношу я.

— Йо, — отвечает Куроки Макото, высокий парень в очках, формально являющийся главой кружка.

Девушка рядом с ним — Саёньджи Сэнри — чуть не подпрыгивает от удивления.

— Нанда, омаэтачи ка? — немного успокоившись, она говорит чуть раздражённо, — Джёдо ёкатта, — добавляет она затем, кивая. Несколько чёрных локонов падает ей на лицо и она отточенными движением поправляет их.

— Э-э, омощирой моно мицкета. Миттэ кудасай, — лениво произносит её соседка Накамото Рэй, низкая девушка с короткими волосами. Как обычно она сидит на стуле, откинув голову назад и потому наблюдая за всем как бы сверху вниз.

Мы с Юки подходим к остальным, меня пропускают к монитору. На экране открыт видеоплеер. Накамото перематывает видео назад и нажимает на воспроизведение.

Начинается запись не слишком увлекательно: камера трясётся, на изображении виден хорошо знакомый мне двор. Съёмка, очевидно, шла из школы.

— Мёоно джикен щираберу тамени, канщкамера ва сэттэй щимащта, — всё так же лениво начинает объяснения Накамото.

Камера наконец успокаивается, уставившись в одну точку неподалёку от школьных ворот и изображение становится практически статичным. Лишь порхание листьев на ветру, да редкий мусор, пролетающий над землёй, вносят разнообразие.

— Дэ, сайщёни нанимо накатта. Хьтоцу хентай то иджё ни.

Она прокручивает вперёд, на экране возникает подозрительный тип, прячущийся в кустах с громоздким фотоаппаратом. При ускоренном воспроизведении его движения выглядят довольно забавно. Но не успевает он как следует повеселиться, как его забирает с собой девушка в белой шляпе.

— Дэ, соно хи нанимо окоранай, соно ёру нанимо миэнай, — она прокручивает череду ночных кадров, на которых ничего толком не разглядеть, — Щкащи, кино ва омощирой моно га китта.

Накамото останавливает проигрыватель и переключается на просмотрщик изображений, в котором открыт тот же или один из соседних кадров, хотя есть в изображении и что-то странное. Затем, она увеличивает изображение.

Поначалу я не понимаю, в чём дело. Она приближает участок изображения снизу справа, но там расположены лишь кусты. Я уже предвкушаю увидеть загадочный набор пикселей, интерпретировать которой может лишь специалист высшего уровня или гадалка. Но разрешение на удивление высокое. Хотя изображение и продолжает выглядеть немного неестественно, на нём видны лишь размытости, но никакой пикселизации.

Наконец, она заканчивает приближать. И тут до меня доходит: в середине кустов появился некий подозрительный отблеск, которого не было видно до этого.

Chapter Seven

I cannot quite understand whether it was my indecisiveness or slow reaction that led to those events. As soon as i fully understood what was happening, it was already too late to break and i let Sasha enjoy the kissing. I didn't feel much myself: perhaps i wasn't really interested in her in that way, or maybe i just wasn't in the mood, or maybe i was just too busy being careful and alert.

Finally, i got tired and broke away the kiss. For a few moments we were looking into each other's eyes. For some reason all i could notice was the hue of her iris. It wasn't regular "blue" which should really be called "bluish grey". Her eyes were of genuine blue color, with a hint of green around the pupils, so big in the darkness.

Then the winter wind blew hard into my face, messing up my hair and blocking the view. Having broken our gaze, i turned away, trying to think about situation at hand. But i was much too shocked to actually process everything that happened and in the end all my thoughts concentrated on Sasha, kissing and my feelings.

— Sorry, — she whispered after a while, her voice giving away doubt, — you didn't like it?

I had no idea what to say and only let out a sigh.

— Well, i suppose i'm not good enough. That's only to be expected.. — she wanted to continue, but suddenly a melody started to play, which was soon revealed to be her ring tone.

Sasha hung up furiously, almost ready to throw smartphone onto the ground. She put it back into her pocket instead, but still couldn't continue whatever she wanted to say. A new sound caught our attention, now coming from inside the building: someone's footsteps were approaching the door. Then the door opened and a guy from the party appeared.

At first i thought he would say we should go back inside or something, but he offered me his phone instead.

— Isabella? — he asked to confirm my identity, — there's a man who wants to talk to you urgently.

His voice sounded surprised and even more so disturbed. Reluctantly, i took the phone from his hand.

***

Something crashed into the ground.

***

— Be careful, mind the weather, for you request is fulfilled, — said the familiar voice in the same familiarly tired tone.

— Blue? — i asked mechanically, too surprised to react properly on the meaning of his words.

— So i am indeed. Meet me at the station at the dawn, — he said that and hung up. For a few seconds i listened for the short beeps and then returned phone to its owner. He was visibly displeased by the fact that he had to walk through the house just for me to say one word, but then walked off silently.

I stood looking at the night scenery for a while. It was a small dying town, the streets were engulfed in darkness, which could not be unraveled by a few dim and flickering street lights. It felt unreal and distant to me; almost as if the train took me to another dimension or, perhaps, someone's dream.

— Change of plans? — Sasha asked, returning me to reality of the moment.

— Change of plans, indeed, — i repeated after her, trying hard to stay in reality.

Suddenly i noticed i was getting cold and added:

— Lets discuss that inside though, shall we?

After being so long out in the cold, it felt pleasantly warm, but also somewhat stuffy inside. We quickly walked through the corridor, which i haven't really noticed before and then up the steep wooden stairs.

— So you're leaving? — only after we walked through the main room, still full of partying people, into the small room where i woke up, did Sasha ask.

— Apparently, i am. It's a pity i couldn't stay longer at the party, but i suppose i have to starting moving now, — in a matter of fact, i didn't have a slightest idea about how long would it take to get to the station. Or what hour it was. Or at what hour would the dawn emerge, either.

— And did you even consider how are you going to "start moving"? — she asked with a hint of sarcasm. She hit me right in my weak spot and perhaps for that reason i couldn't leave her line unanswered.

— Are you about to suggest something or just laughing at me? — i said, having finished collecting the few things i left in there.

— Mmm, how can i be just laughing at you? Imagining you all alone walking in this winter night in this town is no laughing matter. Of course i have a suggestion.

— And?

— Oh, it's pretty simple: i go with you. And, we take a car.

As she mentioned that, i remembered our path from the station here and the stolen car we drove on. At that time i wasn't in an appropriate state of mind to seriously think about this action, but now it seemed pretty crazy to me.

Then i realized how nice was Sasha's suggestion, even if it also implied a stolen car. In fact, it felt weird that she would suggest driving an almost stranger in the night. I started on my paranoid thoughts again, but then decided it won't help me in this situation.

— It is really nice of you. But, i've got one question in that regard, if you don't mind. Why did you guys have to steal that car yesterday? And are you going to do it again?

— Hey, that's two questions! — Sasha replied, meanwhile gesturing me to suggest we should leave, — But anyway, you shouldn't be that worried about it. It would take much longer for anybody to find out than we're going to stay here.

***

"Of all minor demons everyone should have their favourite", a distorted voice said through the radio noise in a brightly sunlit room, filled with old furniture, "for someone who doesn't will have to deal with greater demons. And i can say from experience that it is painful".

Voice paused and only static could be heard for a while. Then something clicked and the voice started again: "Of all minor demons everyone..."

***

As we walked back through the party room, i remained silent. The atmosphere was mostly the same as before, except for increased number of people who started to doze off. I looked at the gamers' corner and sure enough there was another match in progress. As if feeling my glance, Orpheus turned around and, noticing me, waived and started to stand up. He almost tripped over several times, before finally catching up with us near the stairs.

— Эй, Саша! Вы что, уже валите? — Orpheus patted Sasha's shoulder.

— Да, похоже мои планы изменились. Передавай мои извинения, — Sasha glanced back at the room.

— Ну что же, успехов тебе и твоей подруге.

— Спасибо.

I started to go downstairs to avoid listening conversation i couldn't (and, perhaps, wasn't supposed to) understand, but then they switch to english.

— So, since you leaving before competition over, — Orpheus said in a louder voice, — i can't say how high you rank. But since i enjoyed your performance, want to give you at least some prize.

— How nice of you, — Sasha replied, — but you don't have to go that far.

I remained silent for i had little idea of what would be considered polite in this situation.

— No worry. Just wait a second, — with this Orpheus moved through another door, which happened to lead to a tiny unlit storeroom. Apparently he didn't need light to find whatever he wanted to find, though, for he emerged out of it quite quickly.

— Here, take this, — for some reason he approached me and started talking in a dramatic low voice, — i don't know what your quest is, or whether you have a quest, but i hope this could be of assistance.

Having finished his line, he gave me a small package, wrapped in brown paper. As usual in such situations, my paranoia got activated and almost made me refuse offer. But i supposed the risk is worth taking and reluctantly took the package.

— Thank you very much, — i said after a short pause.

— Yeah, thanks, — Sasha added, her voice giggling.

— Ha-ha, you welcome. I won't put me in your way any longer, — replied Orpheus and moved back to the party room, — Good bye.

— Yeah, see ya later, — Sasha turned to me indicating we should go.

— Bye, Orpheus, — i concluded and finally continued descending.

Глава восьмая

— Рензу митаини — говорю я, смешивая подлинное и поддельное удивление в голосе.

— Соно тори дэс! Даре ка ва ватащтачи о миттэ иру! — вступает в разговор Макото.

— Со-со, канщкамера ва канщкамера о рекоду щмащта. Фир зэ айрони, — восклицает Юки.

Да уж, надо будет рассказать оператору про эту айрони!

— Дэ, доо омоу но, Лёща? — спрашивает Макото. Похоже, остальные уже высказались до моего прихода.

— Щирабетэ щинакча, соно камера о.

— Сонна кото атаримай дещё, — отвечает мне Саёньджи, — Кедо, осой. Соно рекоодо ва киноо.

— Кёо ва чеку щимащита, соре дэ, моо инай, — добавляет Накамото.

В глубине души я вздыхаю с облегчением.

— Мондай дэс нэ, — говорю я вслух, — Джя, койцура ва ёру ни канщкамера сэттэй то нара ватащтачи ва найто вижён га хицуёо.

— Найто вижён ка? — Саёньджи вопросительно наклоняет голову — Ии соре. Дэмо, доо яттэ тэ ни иремасс?

— Нэтто ни щирабе мащё. Макото-кун, онэгай дэкиру? — предлагает Юки.

— Хай-хай, — Макото покорно садится за компьютер.

На этом совещание кончается; перемена тоже подходит к концу и большинство из нас разбредается по классам. Мы с Накамото идём вместе, пока она не сворачивает в свой класс. Перед тем как зайти, она оборачивается и бросает на меня подозрительный взгляд, но ничего не говорит и вскоре отворачивается.

***

— Мата соно бунгаку щцу аримащта? — как обычно, Щиньджи встречает меня своим бормотанием.

— Дагара, бунгаку щцу джя най, — как обычно, с небольшим раздражением отвечаю я.

Вскоре звонок прерывает нашу перепалку и в класс входит учитель.

Урок химии проходит как обычно скучно. Впрочем, мне есть чем заняться.

Для начала отправляю оператору короткое предупреждение: "Ur cam was found. B careful". Разбираться с деталями будем потом.

Затем я открываю на смарте Ницше и принимаюсь читать.

***

Не дожидаясь последнего звонка, я начинаю собираться. В комитет я сегодня не собираюсь, но всё же надо предупредить кого-нибудь из наших. Поэтому как только звонок наконец звенит я сразу выхожу из класса и направляюсь к 1-А.

Ждать мне приходится недолго; не проходит и полминуты, как оттуда выходит Накамото Рэй в компании одноклассниц.

— Накамото-сан, — обращаюсь я к ней, когда она, попрощавшись с ними, идёт в сторону лестницы.

— Лёща?.. Масака, "бущицу ни иканай" то йуу цумури?

— Дощтэ сонна кото мадэ ни вакару?

— А-а, йахари. Дэйто суру н дэска?

— Чигау! Дойцу мо, койцу мо. Нандэ минна ва дэйто щка омоэнай?

— Даттэ, анта но ханно ва омощирой дагара, — она улыбается.

— Сонна кото ва рью ни нареру ка ё? Маттаку, коно сэкай ва акьта... Дэ, букацу ва ёрощку нэ?

— Маа, щёганай. Джя, мата ащта.

— Джя нэ.

На этом мы распрощались и я наконец иду на первый этаж.

***

Уже выйдя из школьных ворот, я понимаю, насколько был прав этим утром. На улице действительно ад, форменный ад. Дорога вверх на холм превращается в сущую пытку. Как же я сейчас завидую тем, чей дом в противоположной стороне!

Но делать нечего. Вместе с остальными неудачливыми школьниками и случайными прохожими я поднимаюсь наверх под палящим солнцем. Шаг за шагом, подобно Сизифу ибо повторяется это каждый учебный день) я поднимаюсь. с надеждой глядя на дуб наверху как на ориентир.

Преодолев холм, я сворачиваю налево и для виду захожу в супермаркет. Конечно, такая конспирация вовсе ни к чему, но с другой стороны было бы странно ожидать другого от такого законспирированного человека как я.

Как типичный школьник, я покупаю какие-то сладости, даже названия которых не знаю. Кассир со скучающим лицом пробивает их и отдаёт сдачу. Прежде чем выйти из магазина, я проверяю, нет ли кого на улице, но по этому переулку мало кто ходит днём и там закономерно пусто.

Делаю последний вдох кондиционированного воздуха и выхожу обратно в пекло. Впрочем, по сравнению с подъёмом на холм простая прогулка вполне терпима. Чтобы скоротать путь я достаю наушники и включаю подборку летнего рока. Можно было бы конечно и наоборот что-нибудь зимнее поставить, чтобы попытаться охладить атмосферу, но сейчас я предпочитаю что-то соответствующее погоде.

"Нацу оясуми, ай нэва вил белив Кими но усо ни

Антил зэ энд

Ай вил белив ин ми, Нацу оясуми ..."

Навязчивый мотив застрял в моей голове и даже когда песня окончилась я не никак не могу подстроиться под ритм следующей. Впрочем, идти уже осталось не больше пары минут и я попросту выключаю плеер, чтобы не насиловать свой слух. "Нацу оясуми", снова звучат абсурдные строчки в моей голове.

Но вот наконец я подхожу к своей цели. Это небольшой двухэтажный дом за увитым плющом металлическим забором. Я нажимаю кнопку звонка на калитке и жду ответа.

Из дома начинает раздаваться подозрительный шум и я понимаю, что мне придётся простоять под нещадными лучами ещё несколько минут. Я лишь вздыхаю.

Наконец, электронный замок на калитке открывается, а из двери дома выходит молодая женщина, изо всех сил пытающаяся скрыть очевидный факт того, что я разбудил её своим звонком.

— Охайо, Лёща-кун, — говорит она, подавляя зевок.

— Охайо, Кирихара-сан. ёку нэмури мащта ка?

Не отвечая, она отворачивается и проходит в глубь дома.

— Оджямащимас, — я захожу в дом, снимаю ботинки и прохожу вслед за ней на кухню.

Кирихара-сан уже готовит свой "утренний" кофий.

— If you realize my sleeping needs, why do you come so early? — наконец говорит она, ставя передо мной чашку ароматного напитка.

— Maybe i'm trying to turn in you into a good citizen who sleeps at night and works at day? — произношу я шутливо.

— Кьсо, don't make such a happy face when i feel so down. You should be happy enough that i let you in my house at this hour. Кьсо, talk about kids these days.

Она отпивает из своей чашки и кривит недовольную мину: очевидно кофий ещё слишком горяч.

— What do you want anyways?

— "Аната ни миттэру тамени" то юуно до да?

— Кьсо, маджимени щитэ. You have something to talk about, don't ya? You didn't like my latest editing?

— That's not it, relax. You're doing a great job, — я делаю маленький глоток из своей чашки, — I just need some inside info, that's all.

— Кьсо, again?.. Well, i don't really mind. Дага на, — на её лице проступает улыбка, — кими но яксоку ва обоэру! Джянто гохан цукуреро но маини нанимо ватасанай кара!

Довольная собой, она делает несколько глотков, поднимается со стула и подходит к окну.

— Ии тэньки, ии тэньки! — произносит она с наигранной радостью и потягивается.

— Маа, щькатанай ка, — протягиваю я. На самом деле я конечно знал, что в конце концов всё придёт именно к этому.

Надо сказать, что несмотря на частый обмен колкостями, мы с Кирихарой-сан — довольно близкие друзья. Вообще говоря, это неудивительно: несмотря не разницу в возрасте, у нас с самой первой встречи было много общего.

Ну, во-первых, мы оба гайджины. Несмотря на японскую фамилию, Кирихара-сан лишь наполовину японка, а выросла и вовсе в штатах. И хотя мы оба свободно говорим на японском, язык — далеко не единственный культурный барьер и, как бы хорошо нас не готовили, некоторый "культурный шок" был неизбежен.

И конечно, есть ещё одна причина.

Chapter Nine

Lambda is the alpha, And tau is twice pi, And gamma rays, happy gamma rays Penetrated all over me.

***

— So what was that spectacle with the present about? — i asked Sasha who was starting the car.

— Ah, that? Remember i said i'm a fanfic writer? Well, i don't only write text-only stories, i've been participating in a few indie game circles, — Sasha finally fired up the engine and inspected me, — All set? Then forward we go!

Our old sedan started unexpectedly sharply, forcing me into the back of my seat.

— So, as i was saying, i was involved with making a few small scale games. One of them we were making with Orpheus. Actually, it was he who introduced me to gaming and gamedev in the first place.

After bouncing on a few holes, the car finally broke onto a relatively good road. It was still bumpy and i could imagine i would have felt dizzy if my vestibular system wouldn't have improved since my youth.

— And that first game we were making was pretty much sheer parody. So, that phrase Orpheus said was one of the lines by an early NPC. I was really quite surprised he still remembers it that well. But then again, he spent a lot of time rehearsing it.

Sasha abruptly stopped talking to take care of a sudden problem on the road. At the moment we were driving through the relatively small forest belt separating the town into "old" and "new" parts as i learned from map some time later. And on this narrow forest road there was a car abandoned perpendicularly, that we had to bypass on the opposite line.

— Huh, so that's how it is, — i finally replied to her explanation after we ended that maneuver.

— Yeah. Honestly, i have no idea why am i even telling you this. It would probably have been better preserved as inner joke.

Our conversation died at that and next five or so minutes we drove in silence.

***

Spectacle of spectacles was truly spectacular. It could have won any possible award humanity could create. It could have changed human destiny forever.

It could have, but nobody watched it. Nobody. Ever.

***

Watching winter dawn from the pedestrian bridge over railway station wasn't something i had been doing very often. As a matter of fact, that day it was the first time i did so. The picture was pretty impressive.

It wasn't the stereotypical "first sun rays emerged from the red horizon and lit the surroundings" or whatever is usually said about such occasions. In fact, we did not see neither sun nor its rays at all: the eastern sky was filled with clouds.

Still, those clouds weren't too thick and the change from dark grey to yellowish grey to pink to bright yellow was beautiful. And yet another thing was the ghost-looking town awakening. Old multi-storey apartment buildings first looked like simple black shadows, with only few lit windows. Then they started to turn grey, light in windows was flipping on and off. And as they turned grey, their true state started to show.

I wouldn't have been surprised if i would be told that town had been hit by war. Buildings were visibly disintegrating, some apparently abandoned, with empty windowless frames; some still inhabited, despite half of the roof being collapsed.

Then, the cars. Of those few we could see, all were either old or covered in a brown dirt, or both. Some were just empty car skeletons. There was still little snow on them, but i imagined most of those cars will turn into car-shaped snow mountains later in the winter.

Then, there were trees. Dead-looking, weirdly shaped trees, which Sasha described as "our mutant trees".

This may sound depressive, but to me the whole picture, especially in its dynamic, was beautiful. Perhaps, it was a certain harmony between ever-changing ever-lasting sky and slowly dying human dwelling. Perhaps it was my deeply hidden hatred towards all human. It doesn't really matter.

— Train's coming, — said Sasha returning me back to reality.

I refrained from a bad pun and instead gazed into direction she pointed at. There was a train there alright. Or at least something that looked and sounded like a train. But compared to modern train we rode in a day before, this was a relic of the past. Even from that distance i could see its weird angled shapes, its old pantographs, its driver seats.

Slowly we started descending to the platform. We had no need to haste for the train wasn't in a hurry either.

Only when it arrived did i realize that Sasha was still with me despite my somewhat secret meeting with Blue. I looked at her. She stared back.

— There's no need to worry about such details, — she said, as if answering to my unspoken thoughts.

***

Dark static was spreading through the veins of the city. Someone's terror was feeling its lungs. Soon there will be no more.

***

Only one person left the train on the platform and for a moment i thought that maybe the whole train was riding only to get him here. Of course, it was Blue; of course, he was still wearing black leather. And apparently he wasn't surprised to see me in a company.

While he was walking towards us, the train left the station.

— Morning, ladies, — Blue said, still hopelessly trying to sound british.

— Hello, Синий, — Sasha answered first. Her voice betrayed mix of excitement and confidence in her superiority.

I mumbled something for a greeting.

— The job is done, the pay is due, — he then cut straight to business, never-minding Sasha's present.

— But of course, — i replied. And then, after a pause, added, — What were his words?

— Didn't say nothing dramatic. Asked me to return a rooster that he owed to a neighbour.

— So that's how it was, huh?.. Did you return the rooster?

— Oh yeah, i did. Had a few troubles with that damn bird.

I put right hand into the inner pocket of my jacket and after a bit of search took a piece of paper out of it that looked like an old school shop cheque.

— "????", — i said, — original edition, of course.

Blue took the paper and inspected it curiously.

— Interesting way of doing business you have indeed, — he said, pocketing the precious thing, — Do you always use such rare ones?

— At the very least i use those whose authors had been dead for at least seventy years.

— The rumors about your humor were certainly unexaggerated.

All the while Sasha stood silently, few steps away from us.

— So are you two acquainted or what? — i finally asked question that had been bothering me for a while.

— Hmm, how should i put it?.. — Blue considered this a bit and finally added, — Everybody knows Sasha in these parts. And as much as i don't like trusting famous people, i have no doubts about her.

— And, — Sasha added, — despite Синий is not as famous as me, i'm well informed enough to know him.

And so the pieces of the puzzle started to fall in place.

***

There was a knock on the door, then two more. Then, nothing.

Five minutes later air conditioner turned on, relieving the room from various scents which were the last evidence of events which perhaps never happened.

Глава десятая

— Hey, you speak english, right? — так обратилась ко мне Кирихара-сан в первый день нашего знакомства — Нихон го ва моо акьта.

Мы шли по ночному городу после первого совещания. Голова шла кругом после долгого дня: ещё утром я садился в самолёт во Владивостоке, а уже с полудня началось общее собрание в центре Токио.

— Нани? Oh yeah, sure. I don't have much spoken experience though.

— Well, it's fine as long as we understand each other. This day sure was tiring. Кьсо, even though i've been here for a week, i spent all of it sitting in my room like some hikkikomori and haven't adopted at all. Too much нихонго at the meeting almost made my head hurt.

— Ha-ha, i can understand you. I might be used to watching anime, but being immersed into actual japanese society is a different thing.

Какое-то время мы шли молча. Наконец, чтобы развеять несколько хмурую атмосферу, я произнёс:

— Джя, ищщёни гамбаримас ка?

— О! Гамбаро! — в тон мне ответила Кирихара и мы оба засмеялись.

— By the way, i don't think i've remembered your first name at the meeting. Everybody uses last names all the time.. Oh, and i'm Jane, by the way.

— I'm Алексей, or simply Лёша.

— Ok, ёрощку нэ, Лёша.

— Ёрощку, Jane.

Мы опять рассмеялись. За разговором мы не заметили как отстали от группы и затерялись в толпе.

— Well, looks like we got lost or something, — наконец заметил я.

— Really? — похоже, она несколько удивилась этому, но не приняла всерьёз, — Oh, i believe that won't be a problem. Нээ-сан ва аннаищмас агеру кара, — она добавила совсем уж шутливым голосом.

— Мадьжи? — я попытался ответить ей в тон.

— But of course. We'll be living in one neighbourhood. You didn't know?

— Ah, they probably said something like that, but it could have easily slipped past me.

— Вакару, вакару. Джя, i suppose we can enjoy ourselves then and leave the others to themselves. That said, i've no idea how high-schoolers like to spent their time these days.

— Don't ask me, i'm not an expert of shounen psychology.

— Hmm... Джя, what would you like to do? Well, we can actually return home since it's getting pretty late. Дэмо, сэккаку киттанони, моттайнай дэс.

"Что бы я хотел, да? Нечасто мне задают подобные вопросы", подумал я.

— Well, if you ask me, i always wanted to go into a bar, but there's not much point in it without drinking, is there?

— Huh, do you want to become adult that badly?

— It's not really about being adult. It's just that i always акогарета that atmosphere. "Double whiskey, straight" and then you sit there at the bar and think your depressive thoughts. And maybe someone notices you and asks what's wrong or something. Now that i think about it, it sounds like a stupid childish dream.

— Hmm, i suppose i've never thought about it like that. My father was a heavy drinker back when i was a kid and seeing him made me hate alcohol. Of course, when i grew up, i stopped actually hating it. But there was no romantic aureole around it for me.

Мы продолжали идти по ночной улице. Навстречу нам попадались в основном пьяные компании и влюблённые парочки. Со стороны мы наверное выглядели как парочка гайджинов и до некоторой степени именно так себя и ощущали.

Дойдя до очередного перекрёстка, мы остановились.

Chapter Eleven

— I suppose you'll have no trouble finding me if you have any problems with coin transfer, — i said to finish small talk that was taking way too much time.

— And you'll have no trouble contacting me if you have any more questions on the job, — Blue replies.

— I'm sure that won't be necessary. Now if you would excuse me, i have some other business to attend.

— It was a pleasure to work with you.

And after a few more lines of too polite goodbyes we finally parted our ways. That is, Blue remained on the platform to wait for a train and i went back into the town. Sasha followed me, without asking anything until we went far enough away. Then she finally said:

— So you actually do have some business in our town?

— Well, not exactly. It's a long story that i'm not even sure i want to talk about. Anyhow, lets find some place to sit down and drink some coffee. I really need some caffeine right now.

— Hmm, i'm not sure local cafe would be a good idea. As far as i know the history of this town, there was only one good cafe and it didn't last a year.

— That's really sad.

— Ha-ha, it won't be understatement to call this place "Sad Town".

— What about canned coffee then? Or is it also sad in these parts?

— Mostly. The one you can buy in most supermarkets is a masterpiece of awfulness. But there is one place that's different. We'll have to cross railways again though.

Until then we walked slowly on a dirty street parallel to railroad. According to a sign on one of old wooden cottage, it was called "Привокзальная улица". After Sasha suggested moving across, we simply turned into a narrow alley between two fences and then walked through the rails.

— But wasn't that the "cultural center" of the town? — i said referring to a little square near the station on the side that we just left, — Isn't there nothing but rural outskirt where we are going?

— I suppose that's true. But there's one small detail. There is a highway there and that's where we are heading to. See, the center is for this town's people. And as tiny as it is, the shop on gas station is for "outsiders". And there's a long-standing tradition that outsiders deserve the best.

— Tradition?

— Well, it's not only a tradition. It's also a simply economical thing. Nobody would buy product that's few time more expensive than its cheap "analogue" in the town.

— Even if the cheap option is total crap?

— Even if the cheap option is crap, — Sasha repeated, — Well, you've seen the town yourself, didn't you? How do you think people live there?..

I didn't know what to answer. It's not like i've never seen poverty before. It's not like i should have been surprised by it. Yet i always did. It always felt absurd to me that people have to waste their lives on mostly useless ineffective work for a miserable rewards and are willing to do it.

The rest of our way we walked in silence.

***

"But what is lie?", continued the abstract voice, "Is it really as simple as a boolean value?"

The voice made a long pause, sipping the no less abstract beverage.

"To define something, we need a language, but what if it in itself is a lie?", it then continued again.

***

— Два горячих кофе и пачку эклеров, — Sasha ordered in the gas station shop and then turned to me, — You don't mind sweets, do you?

— Sure. I'd take black coffee though, if there's a choice, — i answered

— Кофе-то какой? — asked her a woman voice from the other side of the glass counter filled with products.

— Один чёрный и один со сливками, — replied Sasha and put a few banknotes on the money plate.

Couple minutes later we were sitting on a bench of a seemingly abandoned bus station. It was a strange replacement of cafe, but i didn't mind. There was some sense of childish adventure in drinking coffee with eclairs on an empty bus station on a highway that was the most bright symbol of travel in the dying town.

Despite all the differences, i could easily imagine this was my home town and i was a teenager looking into the distance and nurturing plans of escape.

— I wish we could just thumb a ride away from this place, — i said, thinking aloud.

— Why can't we? — Sasha replied after processing what i said for a while.

— It's not that we can't. It's just that we can do it million other ways. I'm not bound to this place, or my home town, or any other particular place. And yet i still want to escape sometimes, but there's no place to escape to. And after all these centuries of fantasizing of space travel we are still stuck to Earth.

I gulped down the remaining coffee and continued ranting:

— But then when i think deeper, i start thinking that maybe it doesn't really matter and the now fantastic sounding prospect of leaving our old planet will cease to be amazing in a matter of a few weeks... I hope i didn't bore you with my rants?

— Not at all. I can understand that this town could bring anybody in a depressive mood.

— Well, i'm not really depressed. It's more of a nostalgic feeling, i guess. I feel like i've become a disillusioned adult and the excitement and fun of the youth is over for me.

— Is that really so? You seem to be leading pretty exciting life as far as i can tell. You certainly don't look like a boring adult who returns home after work, lies on couch and complains about life while watching sports.

— Well, you just described the perfect image of what i'd hate to live, so obviously i did everything in order to prevent that happening to me. Really, you shouldn't take my rants too seriously, i guess i just like to complain sometimes.

— Ok. Well, if you need an audience, i can always listen to your complaints.

Sasha finished her coffee and thrown the empty can to the trash bin.

— Thanks.

I replied and tried to repeat her trick, but failed miserably: my can hit the trash bin instead of falling into it. I got up and went to pick it up.

After i returned we sat in silence for a while, looking at the car stream.

***

"The metaphorical value of loneliness lies in its universality." was written on an otherwise blank page of the infinite book opened somewhere in the middle. Other books on the desk were closed and arranged in stacks. There were eight desks in the room, also filled with books and the room itself was only one of the countless rooms in the library. But all the other books were closed.

***

It was still quite early in the morning and i still felt like relaxing, yet i also wanted to confirm the job results. It's not like i didn't trust Blue, the last words he conveyed were a pretty solid proof, but i wasn't only interested in making justice or vengeance or whatever it should be called; i also wanted to see the consequences.

One of my secondary reasons to visit a cafe was to see if local news would contain any mentions of the subject. But since we didn't go to cafe, i had to fulfill my curiosity in other way.

I spent some time considering how to approach this subject in a subtle way, but when i finally decided to straight away ask Sasha if she had a smartphone with her, she spoke first.

— I don't really want to intrude, — she hesitated, — but.. i thought maybe you would be in a mood to tell about your business here?..

— Heh, you're pretty persistent, aren't you. As i said, it's a long story. And i gotta say my throat is pretty tired of talking in a cold over a highway noise background. So if you're sure you need to know this, lets find a calmer place.

— A calmer place, huh? We can return to the Orpheus' place, if you'd like. That would take another ride, though, — Sasha thought for a while and then added, — Actually, i do know another place where we can stay relatively warm. It's kind of peculiar place.

— Really? What is it?

— Well, it's a.. how should i call it? The station watchman's place. He's an old acquaintance of mine. My parents' friend.

— Will it be ok to intrude upon him like that?

— Don't worry about that. He's an old man who likes a company, so what you should be worried about is that it might be hard to have a private talk. Well, the fact that you don't know russian certainly helps though.

— Well, if you say so.. I don't really mind, — i yawned, — Oh, and by the way, we'd really need to sleep before getting back to business. Initially i planned to stay at the party place, but now that we're back at station, i'm not sure we'd want to drive back after sleepless night.

— Hmm, now that you mention it, i start feeling i didn't sleep in a while. Perhaps we can take a nap at old man's place, if you don't mind sleeping on an old couch.

— Anything would do in these circumstances. Lead the way.

Глава двенадцатая

— Гохан ва мада? — доносится голос Джейн из ванной. Иногда мне кажется, что у неё совершенно отсутствует чувство такта.

— Мада-мада, — без особого энтузиазма отвечаю я, продолжая нарезать зелёный лук.

Покончив с луком, я принимаюсь за прочую зелень. Затем кидаю всё это в салатницу, добавляю соли и немного специй и поливаю маслом. Наконец, перемешиваю и отправляю салат на стол.

Вернувшись к плите, проверяю состояние супа. На вкус уже ничего, но всё же ещё немного неготов. Ну что же, можно присесть отдохнуть.

Подумав так, я вдруг замечаю краем глаза какое-то движение. Мгновенно развернувшись на сто восемьдесят градусов, я обнаруживаю Джейн со своей "средней" камерой в дверном проёме.

— Don't worry, this is for my private collection, — оправдывается она, немного покраснев, — I just like to watch you cooking; thought it'd look even better if edited.

— And there i thought that at least at these moments i'm not under surveillance. Do you realize it's not that easy to feel that scrutinizing gaze all the time?..

— Комен, — Джейн наконец опускает камеру и относит её в комнату.

Chapter Thirteen

While nobody was looking, the bottle silently disappeared into the void.

***

In response to Sasha's knocking, the door creaked violently and opened. The old man was shining with a smile.

— Саша, как же я давно тебя не видел! — he hugged her almost violently, ignoring me for the time being.

— Здравствуй, дядь Вань. Ну не души же меня так, — Sasha's voice sounded like she was prepared for this.

I stood still for a while, mindlessly inspecting the pair and the background: badly lit cabin that looked like it used to be a freight train car. That was, on one hand, natural since it was in the end a railway facility. But on the other hand, it was a stark contrast to the shiny skyscrapers of railway monopoly i've seen the day before.

— Ладно, давайте я вас всё же познакомлю, — Sasha said addressing both of us, — Lets get acquainted.

— Bella, — i extended my hand. The old man looked at it hesitantly at first, but then finally understood the gesture and chuckled.

— Иван, — he said, gently shaking my hand, — ну, проходите внутрь, не стойте на пороге.

He made inviting gesture and went inside. We followed. When Sasha closed the door, i felt a bit claustrophobic for it became very dark compared to the outside. But then Ivan opened the curtains and the light level became comfortable.

— Ну что, проходите, проходите, чай уже горячий, правда у меня одни галеты, — Ivan spoke somewhat fussily, — Сладкого-то ничего нету. Ну, ты же знаешь, я сам-то не люблю, а гостей и не бывает почти.

— Дядь вань, да ты не волнуйся. Мы уж перекусили.

— Ну как же, угостить-то надо чем-нибудь.

Finally we all settled around an improvised table, which consisted of a stool and a square piece of plywood on top of it. Ivan seated us on an old couch and sat on a small chair opposite to us.

He poured us some black tea into small peculiar-looking ceramic cups. I took mine to my eye and inspected it closely. The bright painting on it, which at first i thought to be a pure abstraction, depicted two faces, looking in opposite directions. The background contained a blue sky, some city-like structure and a forest.

— Бэлла, шпрэхен зи дойч? — suddenly Ivan addressed me in a language that definitely didn't sound russian, despite all the accent.

"German?", i thought, but the accent was too bad to be sure.

— Nein, nein, — i answered just in case.

— Дядь Вань, ну я же говорила тебе, что она только по-английски говорит. Да ты же и сам всё равно немецкого не знаешь! — interrupted Sasha, — Please, don't mind him. As long as i knew him, he always liked to put that phrase in every conversation, even though he doesn't speak german.

— Ну вот, Саша. Теперь ты про меня сплетни разводишь, а я-то даже и не пойму ни слова! И не жалко тебе старика?

***

When the voice finally got tired of repeating, only static remained. Still, there was nobody to turn off the radio and it continued working. Perhaps, forever, as if it was working on nuclear energy or something.

***

Having finished our tea, we sat like that in silence for a while. I could feel some tension and it wasn't hard to guess that it was my presence that caused it. But what could i do about it? It's not like i had anywhere to go, especially now that i finally started to feel terribly sleepy.

— Should we smoke some weed, perhaps? — suggested Sasha, apparently feeling the same tenseness in the air.

I could only wonder how often does she solve uneasy situation with weed. "Isn't it supposed to be solved with vodka in these parts?", a thought occurred to me, even though i couldn't take it seriously. Obviously, even correct statistical claims have nothing to with individuals.

— Ha-ha, i'm not sure it's such a good idea after this night's trip.

— Really? I thought it was pretty hilarious, — she giggled, — but hey, we can take lighter stuff, if you prefer.

— Are you a secret drug dealer or something?

— Eh, not really. It's not worth my time to sell stuff. So, how about it?

— Well, if you insist. You'll have to deal with consequences if i drop asleep, though.

— Don't worry, i've got experience, — she smiled and i felt a barely noticeable chill run through my spine.

— Well, i suppose i don't mind a joint then, — replied i reluctantly.

I was increasingly feeling that somehow i lost a huge deal of control of my life ever since i've entered that train that brought me here. Maybe that was the reason why i felt similarity between this place and the town i once escaped from?

But probably not. This time lack of control didn't feel as bad. It was, in a way, me voluntarily resigning part of myself to experience life from another perspective.

While i was thinking that, Sasha exchanged a few words with Ivan, who apparently was a big fan of weed as well. Which made me wondering whether it was him who introduced her to this habit.

— All ready, — declared Sasha triumphantly and lit the joint, — Let's take a puff for our acquaintance! За знакомство!

She inhaled and passed the cigarette to me. I followed the suit and passed it on to Ivan.

***

Dark clouds hung over the city. At first, nobody noticed them. But they were still hanging the next day. And the next one. And finally everyone came to understanding that they became a part of city and will never go away.

***

— So, now that we're in a warm place and have slept away, will you finally tell me your secrets? — a sweet voice whispered in my ear.

— What are you talking about? — i could barely mumble this in response.

I really wasn't feeling like talking or even accepting reality at all. I didn't notice when did it happen, but i was in a state of peculiarly pleasant void.

— Your secrets, my darling, — now the voice was coming from my other ear.

For a second i got confused and wanted to count my ears to make sure they are all still in place. Then i remembered i'm only supposed to have two.

— They both are in place, — i mumbled again, just to answer something and get rid from this mysterious interrogator.

— Aww, you're helpless. Well, tell me at least, what do you see? — now the voice was coming from literally nowhere, for all my ears were already used.

— I see a room. Empty room, — i glanced into the darkness yet again, but was too afraid that it may look back and returned, — It's too dark.

Somebody exhaled as if expressing disappointment.

— Ладно, ладно, enjoy your dreams. I've got some writing to do anyway.

Before i returned to my comfortable void, i could hear a keyboard tapping, appearing in a fast bursts.

***

"What is the point of the rain?", a godless entity pondered.

"Why do i want the rain to have a point?", it thought on second day.

"How should i measure the rain-ness of the point?", it still was thinking the same rain-vs-point problem on the third day.

Глава четырнадцатая

Chapter Fifteen

When i woke up, i found myself still in the same cabin, but the curtains were already closed and the light was turned on. Somewhere in the distance, Sasha and Ivan were discussing something in low voices. I stretched my body and got up.

— And why are you waking up at such time of day, Izzy? — i mumbled to myself.

I had no chance to answer though.

— Hey, Bella? Did you get up? — asked Sasha, noticing i'm awake.

Suddenly, a hazy memory came back to me, but only for a brief moment.

— Oh yeah, it seems that i made this mistake, — i answered, yawning.

— Well, we wouldn't mind if you'd stay there for an hour or two more.

— Maybe you wouldn't, but i've got things to do.

— Ah yeah, your business. Maybe it's finally time to talk about it?

— Maybe, maybe. Perhaps we should start with the local news though.

— News, huh? Does it have anything to do with Blue?

— Oh yeah. I'm wondering if it already hit the news.

— Okay, let me see...

Sasha turned to a laptop sitting on her knees and started typing. Tap-tap... Tap-tap.. Sounds of keyboard reminded me of something, but then Sasha interrupted.

— Hmm, xxxxx.. was found strangled to death in a hotel number, that's it?

For some reason these words that were but a translation of some news article finally made me realize that my vengeance was really over. I took a deep breath and calmed myself.

— They sure are fast. I'd think they wouldn't announce it today.

— Well, they haven't, yet. I'm just reading insider news channel. I'm a journalist, in the end.

— Ah yeah.. Information leaks, — i paused, — So, now you know. I contracted Blue to kill that guy. But before i continue, lets drink some tea.

***

Something drips... and drips... and keeps dripping. Shadows fall.

And then!..

***

— So then, — i sipped strong black tea and continued, — you must be wondering who this Andrey Portnov is. Well, as you might have seen, he's currently senator or something. But how do i happen to know a senator in these parts? Or maybe you think i'm just a proxy contractor?

— You might be, for all i know. But i suppose you'd be more secretive in that case.

— Yeah, i suppose so. I don't even know why am i so carefree lately, — that is what i said, but i already had a more or less correct understanding of that. I accomplished my goal and, on one hand, had no need to be careful anymore; on the other, i wanted to celebrate, to relax — Anyway, i suppose you can look up the guy's biography, — i continued, — He claims to be russian immigrant descendant. And i suppose that might be true. Back in the day when i knew him, he called himself Andrew Portnau.

***



***

Глава шестнадцатая

Субботние занятия окончены. Школьный двор. Жара в самом разгаре. Где-то неподалёку отсюда, на крыше одного из высоких зданий должно быть притаился оператор и сейчас снимет нашу странную компанию, лениво выходящую со двора.

Впереди всех — серьёзная Токисака Айка идёт с таким видом как будто и не с нами. Её длинные чёрные волосы развиваются на ветру.

Следом за ней идут Саёньджи Сэнри и Сакура Юки, и что-то весело обсуждают.

И наконец замыкаем шествие мы с Щиньджи.

— Дощтэ сонна мотэру но? — как обычно, начинает жаловаться он, — Онна ни муканщин ксэни!

— Даре ка соно бака о ватащ кара цуресаре, — вздыхаю я, — Ватащтачи тада коммити накама дагара.

— Токисака мо?

— Оре ни тазуненайдэ. Оре га каноджё но рью ва вакаранай.

— Соо дэска? — издевающимся голосом спрашивает Щиньджи.

— Дощтэ мата соно манга митаини яквари суруно?

—

????????

Наконец мы доходим до караоке. У входа нас поджидает тощий паренёк.

— Танака Сатощи иимасу. Ёрощку онэгаищмасу, — представляется он, излишне церемонно кланяясь и видимо робея.

Я, впрочем, с ним уже знаком — это один из друзей Щиньджи, с которыми мы ходили в караоке в прошлый раз.

— Нанда, Хонда-кун то ищщёни джя найно? — спрашивает Щиньджи.

— Э-э, до яра, конайно.

— Джя, ико ка?

И мы входим в небольшое заведение под названием "KaraOkey". Поздоровавшись с приветливым администратором, проходим в зарезервированную комнату.

Chapter Seventeen

Sitting in a comfortable seat of an air charter flying across continent, i tried to forget about the cold harsh reality of outside world that lay both in the past and the future of that unexpected flight. Well, sometimes i think that, on the contrary, it is those moments of relaxation and thinking that are reality and the rest of my life is not much different from a film or a video game.

But how much of this is really worth considering and how much of it is just playing with language? Useless question.

Back then, in that plane i didn't really think of these highly abstract concepts that i sometimes like to ponder on now. Back then, after i've successively rid my mind of present problems, it uncontrollably sunk into past.

***

"...". Helicopter sounds filling my ears.

Sasha papers, pt I

"There is a certain similarity between fanfiction and journalism: you need to write stories in a pre-existing setting."

And who do you think came up with such a quote? Me, of course! Why am i putting it as an epigraph, then? Because i'm a self-complacent smug, that's why!

Really, to hell with fanfics and journalism (which i have been indulging for more than half of my life now), i'm going to write a story about my glorious self. Are you prepared? No? I don't really care.

...

So then, lets start. As i write this, i'm sitting in an interplanetary ship headed for—— aww, wait a second, i said i won't be writing fanfic this time. So lets get back to reality: i'm sitting in a distressingly old suburban train. It's past ten in the evening and i'm starting to feel sleepy, but it's still more than hour before my destination. Well, i suppose i can blame myself for choosing such transportation.

Anyway, i've tried to look through the window, but it's too dark to be interesting. Then i looked at the passengers, but i just wasn't in the mood for that. So then i picked up my laptop and ended up writing this stuff. I guess it's just my old habit: write when i have nothing better to do (have i told you i ended up being professional journalist that way? Well, now i have).

Interestingly enough i hadn't been writing about myself, at least not in recent years. Even if it was quite often that i gave my characters or plot one or two details from my life at the moment. I suppose being observant is a good replacement for having a good imagination.

So then why am i suddenly doing this ramble about myself? There should be a reason!

...

Well, the reason, i suppose, would be that i have this nice feeling about the moment (and myself in it). How should i put it? "I've decided to become a new person and that went better than expected"? Naw, that sounds too dumb even for a supposedly lightheaded me.

So i guess i should go into a bit more details.

My streak of good mood started yesterday afternoon when i finished my last article (and don't ask me what it was about: i don't even want to think about it right now) and sent it off. Then, while i was dancing myself off on the poor old floor, the payment came. I've become so overjoyed that i just couldn't stop myself from celebrating it with a little joint.

So while i was high, the idea came to me that at this point i can stop taking any further jobs and head for an adventure instead. And so i picked a random direction, packed up my laptop and a few other useful things and rode off on a first train. Incidentally, it's a bit annoying that english has no single word for what we call "электричка". That reminds me, why am i even writing in english?..

Here are a few versions:

• i don't want for other passengers to understand what i'm writing

• i'm tired of having to write in russian for work

• i chat way too much in english on the internets

Satisfied? If not, send me your suggestions, i'm always open.

...

Ha-ha, i hope you have your salt grains prepared. But don't worry, most of what i say is the truth. You can trust me on this one.

...

So then, today i arrived in a random town, walked around and got on the train again, all the while occasionally giggling at nothing in particular. And now i'm here.

I guess that'll pass for the explanation of current affairs. Meanwhile, the train is getting near the final station, yay! Now i need to wrap this up. Should i call the thing i wrote today a first chapter? Bah, when i write my fanfics my chapters are like at least five time longer.

...

Really though, i don't know how to wrap it up. Should i write about my grand future plans? Should i just leave my sign here?

Nah, writing plans would take too much time and if someone like you happens to read this, they should already know who am i. Or no, who cares?

I can go for an epic ending: "and now from myself of today, to myself of the days to come, i shall say: blah-blah-blah", but as you might have expected i'm not in the mood.

...

So yeah, see you in the next one, i guess?

Sasha papers, pt II

Yo, i'm back. Didn't expect me to continue my rambles? Well, i've gotta disappoint you: i have too much spare time on my hands. All because my promised adventures still haven't really started, i suppose.

If you're still wondering about my whereabouts, now i'm at a not-very-fashionable hotel in this boring megapolis (wait wut? there's no such word in english? do i have to write megalopolis to get rid of that annoying spellcheck warning? aww, the world is unfair).

...

What am i doing here? That was the question i asked myself a few times this morning and never found out the answer. Perhaps i considered that the denser population the more chances to get into an adventure?..

Who knows, maybe that's wrong and i should consider the opposite idea? Go out into wilderness with zero population... Yeah, that would totally be an adventure. Just not the kind i'm looking for.

...

Gotta keep this thing fun.

Gotta keep this thing fun.

Gotta keep this thing fun.

...

And how am i supposed to keep it fun without that adventure? Sure thing, i can tap on my connections and meet some criminal authorities or something, but that would be cheating.

"Sasha, when did you decide on such a rigid rules?", an old-teacher-like voice asks.

"They aren't rigid, i just came up with this on the spot", i reply.

...

Ok, so at this point this random travel might end up without anything exciting happening. Lets just admit that and live with it.

And since going in random directions doesn't help and staying in this "megalopolis" or whatever the fuck it should be called doesn't help either, i can as well plan to visit my hometown. If i can't have real adventures, i can at least play one with friends.

Yeah, considering the S.T.U.F.F. is coming out, it might be not a bad idea at all. Not at all a bad idea. At all a bad idea not—— No, i must stop myself, there are way too many permutations.

...

Ok, let me make a few calls and send a few messages and i'll be back.

...

So, i've contacted my old friend Orpheus and he happily invited me to a party. What a coincidence! He's planning a party just at the time i want to visit him. I guess maybe i underestimated this boring reality in the end. We'll see.

...

I've still got a few more days here to kill, though. So i should probably continue my rambling while i still can.

Ah, but it is not so easy to write about myself in this boring hotel room, as it was in a suburb train. Maybe i should go out and find a better place to write? But then it's pretty cold outside...

Aww, crap, doesn't matter. I'm too bored in these four wall.

...

And... i'm back. Back to writing, that is, not back to my room. I decided that writing out would indeed be a better thing and did the most obvious thing: went into a random cafe, ordered a coffee and a big choco ice-cream and opened my laptop.

The cafe is almost empty, so i got my stuff pretty soon. And hey, it's surprisingly tasty, too!

Hmm, it's a pity i'm not doing an illustrated book. Otherwise posting food photo would be very appropriate.

"But, it's such a bad taste, Sasha!", the teacher returns.

"You don't understand anything. Bad taste is the whole point here"

...

Are you wondering who is that teacher now? Please, don't embarrass yourself!

...

Lets talk about the waiters here. The one who attended me was a sleek young man with a slightly careless haircut (just between me and you, i know perfectly well how those "careless" are made and how they cost more than something more official).

He certainly has a certain beauty (no, i refuse to use that stupid "handsome" word!), but there's something bland in his eyes. Good for a glamour journal, but not really all that interesting. Or at least, so he looks. It's not like i actually talked with him or something.

Then, there's a short, somewhat clumsy waitress who walked past me a few times. She's attending that business-bandit-looking old man. I wouldn't be surprised if he called her just to enjoy the view, for she is quite cute.

...

Hmm, should i hit on her? What do you think?

Yes, you, you, reader! Should i do it? Would you be entertained by that? Or maybe bored? I've no idea whether you even like romance, let alone some random lesbian encounters in cafe.

...

Ah well, sorry do disappoint you, but i'm not really in the mood. As much as i'm trying to pretend to be outgoing, deep inside i'm not the type to flirt with someone i don't especially like and just find attractive.

So yeah, lets just order one more coffee and be off with it. I suppose i'm going to write enough for today by that point.

...

What else is there in this cafe? Yeah, i suppose you might be interested, if you are at all interested in my so called adventures.

Let me see. On a first glance, it's a quintessence of a modern cafe trying hard to look older than it is. I suppose interior designer described their work as "Victorian", but in reality everything here shouts to you that it came fresh from a fully-automatic plant that could be only be fantasized about in Victorian era.

Aww, i'm bad at describing surroundings, ain't i?

...

Whatever, my coffee has ended and i'm beginning to feel bored here. Lets hit the road.

Sasha papers, pt III

So here i am again, riding the train, but sorry, i'm not going to write much this time. Why? Cause i'm not alone now. I'm actually in a noisy company and i have to write this from my phone, pretending i'm sending an important message.

Writing will have to wait until i have some more time to myself, even though i'd really to share my impression of my companions: it sure seems like my long-awaited adventure might have finally started.

...

Just checked in to say that i'm still too busy to write anything. Yeah, i've arrived at the party, ho-ho!

...

Hmm, it's really hard to get back to writing after so eventful times.

Where should i start? In the ever-present now or from the moment that i stopped on?

...

Ok, lets start with now. I'm sitting on a chair inside an old freight train car, which for many years now functions as a home for the station watchman.

Now, what am i doing here? And how did i get here?

On one hand, i could just mention that the watchman is my old acquaintance and waive the rest of the questions off.

On the other, that's not my goal. I'm suppose to be writing a memoir or something. So lets go into the past details.

...

I started this so called "chapter" in the train, so lets return there for a moment. I said i wasn't alone and indeed i was in a company of four other people, most of whom i just met that day.

...

Of all those people there was one who i found the most interesting (and also attractive). Her name is Isabella, or Bella for short.

Sasha papers, pt IV