Moscow. July 30th, 1918.
Doroteya Filippovna Lavrova.
"Beautiful! Beautiful!" My old patient calls for me. He just had an appendectomy.
"What is it, Pavel?" I try to convey as much patience as possible.
Before my recent vision of the future, I would have been even kinder. But now, every day is a struggle not to cry.
"Can you read to me again?" He asks.
I just did that. I finished reading to him less than half an hour ago.
"You know I canʼt, dear", I reply. "I have other patients."
"Or maybe she doesnʼt want to", Anastasia appears behind me.
"It is really not that", I reassure my patient apologetically. "Excuse me." I grab Anastasiaʼs arm and drag her to the corridor, away from the patients.
"Well, that was a bit rude", I tell my new friend.
"I never let my patients treat me as anything other than a nurse", she says. "Why do you?"
"They just feel lonely, Anastasia. This manʼs daughters havenʼt come to visit him in a long time, his two sons died during the war, and his wife is mad at him, even though he claims she died years ago."
"How do you know she is alive and mad at him if he claims otherwise?" Anastasia asks.
Oh. I forgot.
I have told neither Anastasia nor her husband anything about the visions Iʼve had ever since I was a child. Very few people know.
"Another relative of his told me", I lie.
I have only known Anastasia and her husband Valeriy Kirilov for three days, but I already feel as if they had been part of the family for years, which is why sometimes I forget not to share my strange ability with them, two complete strangers.
Anastasia started working as a nurse three days ago at this hospital, where my husband Andrei and I also work. She also asked for a place to stay for herself and her injured husband. I let them stay with Andrei, my five-year-old daughter Katya, and me on a whim, without even asking my husband. Luckily for me, he never stays angry for long. Valeriy and Andrei have even become good pals.
Anastasia and Valeriy sleep in the guest room, which my maid Sonia and I had to hurriedly clean first.
Valeriy was shot by a robber who took all of his and Anastasiaʼs money while they were staying at a Moscow hotel temporarily on their way to visit a friend. At least that is what they have told me. I could easily figure out if what they are saying is true, but I give them the benefit of the doubt. It is rude to spy on people you know personally.
The story is convincing enough. Ever since the revolution, the streets haven't been safe. It has become chaos out there. Just last week, Andrei was robbed and assaulted. Luckily, he didn't have much money with him, but the thugs gave him a black eye that has fortunately almost healed.
Valeriy lies in bed all day, and Anastasia takes care of him devotedly. Sometimes we take him out to the garden of our house on a wheelchair. My daughter is very funny with him and likes to pretend she is his nurse.
Anastasia and I continue giving meals, changing bandages, and helping with surgeries.
The left wing of the hospital is reserved for people infected with contagious diseases such as typhus. Only certain doctors and nurses are allowed there, not enough for the great number of sick.
Soldiers coming from both southern and eastern fronts are also treated at this hospital, thankfully not too many. Most of them arrive in terrible conditions, having barely been treated on the trains. The whole country is running short of medical supplies.
If it werenʼt for Dr. Markov, the founder and, at least for now, owner of the hospital, we would have been as lost and short of basic needs as most hospitals nowadays ever since the nation got sucked into a civil war. He works tirelessly along with the rest of the doctors and nurses of the hospital to make this place a true sanctuary. A place where people who are in pain or weak can heal surrounded by peace and tranquility. He is working especially hard now that the funds are running low.
We obtain most of our basic supplies from the black market. Furthermore, my sisters have village friends who often sell us fresh food at extremely low prices.
Dr. Markov is an extremely strict man, so strict that sometimes Andrei resents him. My husband jokes about and impersonates our boss mercilessly, imitating his stern voice in a very convincing manner. He has always been jealous of him.
My Andrei is so passionate about what he does that he easily becomes frustrated when reminded that someone has more experience. As much as he admires Dr. Markov, he is also very competitive. I find the way Andrei tries to hide this endearing. I always pretend not to notice that whenever Dr. Markov mentions a new subject, the matter will soon become important to my husband, who will begin studying it with special enthusiasm.
I have been thinking about every single thing I love about Andrei recently. It is what I think about most throughout the day.
Dr. Markov is strict with shifts, anti-epidemic measures, baths, and laundries for the patients. He doesnʼt like it when we try new methods without his consent, and he demands of us to be particularly careful when dealing with fragile technological equipment, such as X-rays.
Even slightly inadequate handling of the donated blood or its subsequent classification for the purpose of transfusions has earned some of the nurses a few well-deserved reprimands. Dr. Markov is up to date with the latest advancements in medicine, but he doesn't have enough tools to modernize the hospital as quickly as he would prefer, which upsets him.
Georgy Mikhailovich Markov tries to stay in the new governmentʼs good graces for the sake of his workers and patients, but something tells me that his time in charge is nonetheless coming to an end. Maybe this year, maybe the next one.
I donʼt know how to feel about this. He is a great man, and I donʼt like the new establishment, but the healthcare in this country is terrible. One doctor for 6000 villagers in some regions levels of terrible, and not every worker can afford hospitalization. The wars raging on have only made everything worse.
My friend and coworker Dafna, who is also a nurse, sympathizes with the reds, or at least she does so more than either me or Andrei, which admittedly isnʼt much. She says that things will improve once the war is over. I don't want to be naïve, but I really hope she right. I am skeptical though. Throughout her husbandʼs reign, the Tsarina worked very hard to improve Russiaʼs healthcare, making sure more people could afford insurance. Who says these new people won't also fail?
I have no clue what will happen. I barely ever have visions about the future of a single individual, let alone the future of an entire nation.
My shift has finished now, as has Anastasia's, but I am not sure about my husbandʼs. It depends on whether there are complications during his last surgery or not. Our house is only a few streets away from the hospital, so we usually walk back.
"Help me find my husband before you leave", I tell Anastasia. "If he is still in surgery, you can leave first." She nods.
Oo
I rush to embrace Andrei as soon as he walks out of the operating room. This never gets old.
"What was it this time?" I ask him as we walk home. It took hours for him to come out, so Anastasia must be home by now.
"Eight-year-old boy broke his tibia, you know, fell while playing football", Andrei replies. "He wasn't on my schedule today, he arrived recently."
"Oh, poor thing", I say.
"I knew you would say that Doroteya, but children are stupid."
I love my husband.
"Come on, darling", I smile. "You wouldn't have as much interest in pediatrics if you didn't love children."
He is always so fun with his patients, especially with the little ones.
"Oh, no, Katya is the only child I like", Andrei jokes. "And I am glad she is a girl, a girly girl. I couldn't deal with either a boy or a tomboy jumping around, climbing trees, and trying to make me die of a heart attack at 28!"
I shake my head and grin.
"Well, you may not like this then", I lower my head, feigning sadness, "but I saw a boy in my vision." I look back up at Andrei tentatively, without raising my head.
Andrei stops in his tracks.
"You are pregnant?" He opens his eyes wide and stares at me in awe.
"Will be pregnant", I correct him.
Andrei laughs loudly as he carries me off my feet. He believes me. He knows everything about me. We cover each other's faces and lips with kisses, and he keeps kissing my nose for a long time, which would have annoyed me before, not now.
"Wait a second", Andrei pulls away and points his index finger at me. "Is that the reason why you have been so affectionate lately? Because you wanted to have another baby?" He shrugs. "I mean, I am not complaining but… I need sleep, Doroteya."
"No Andrei", I roll my eyes. "I saw the baby, so even at our normal rate, we would still be having a beautiful baby boy soon."
"Shame it is a boy", he complains.
"Oh, don't be dramatic", I punch his arm playfully. He takes my hand and looks at me.
"I am happy." He kisses the side of my head, and then we keep on walking.
"Ugh, I want to get home already!" I exclaim. "I am so hungry!"
"Not even pregnant yet and already with cravings", Andrei teases me.
Oo
When Andrei and I walk into our apartment, we find Anastasia writing a letter on the dining room table under the light of the chandelier. She is somewhat startled by our arrival and swiftly folds her letter to put it away, immediately smiling at us after doing so. It is rather suspicious.
"Good evening, I am not much of a cook", she greets us, "but I helped Sonia prepare us something to eat."
"Thank you, Anastasia", my husband says. "That was nice of you." I am far too worried to thank her, but I manage to hide this with a smile.
Oo
Valeriy has already eaten in his room, and Sonia prefers to do so alone more often than not, so only Andrei, Anastasia, Katya, and I have dinner together.
I fight the urge to see what the mysterious letter is about, but I fail miserably. I wouldnʼt have failed before. I know that Anastasia deserves privacy. What I am about to do isnʼt right...
I do it anyway.
I focus my mind on what I want to see and avoid thinking of anything else. Then I see it. Only portions of the letter appear inside my mind, and I understand very little of Anastasiaʼs handwriting. Still, I don't like the little I do understand. Not one bit.
Dear C.L.: We are safe, Anastasiaʼs note says, is Ms. R there yet?
What Ms. R?
This is our new address, we are living with a really decent couple, dear Ms. R will understand that we found many boring places around the city, but one of the theaters has fairly interesting plays we haven't seen yet, and we are planning to do so tomorrow after work. And most damning of all: We can't tell you anything yet until dear Ms. R arrives, scared of talking nonsense.
What theater? Valeriy and Anastasia didn't tell us anything about going to the theater tomorrow. And why didn't they invite us? I fear I might have brought something dangerous to my house. I worry this may all turn out to be my fault. I know my daughter will be safe, but what about my husband?
Oo
Anastasia and Andrei are talking about the latest methods of treating abdominal wounds. I hope it isn't too noticeable that I am not paying much attention to their conversation. Even my daughter seems more interested than me, which isn't normal. It occurs to me that she may want to become a nurse like me when she grows older and my mood changes for the better.
After dinner, Anastasia helps me wash the dishes, and once we are done, she excuses herself and goes back to her and Valeriy's room.
I go to Katyaʼs room and find her playing with Andrei. She is wearing a stethoscope, so my husband is clearly the patient in this situation.
"I am going to give you some aspirin", my daughter says in a serious tone of voice.
I am going to miss this so much.
Oo
Katya is bitterly disappointed when I announce that it is time to go to bed, and even more so when her dad supports my decision by saying goodnight to her with a kiss on the cheek. Exhausted, my husband leaves for our bedroom.
I calm my very upset daughter, help her put on her nightgown, and tuck her into bed. As usual, she asks for a story, and I tell her that of Ivan and the Chestnut Horse, which is an immensely popular tale I wonder why I had not told her before. I talk to her about the Romanovs so often that I sometimes forget about the folk tales I grew up with…
"I love how at the end Ivan gets to marry the princess! Katya exclaims. "He deserves it because he is so good, I was surprised, but I like it!"
"I am glad you liked the story, my darling", I say. "Now, it is time to go to bed."
"Tell me more about the Grand Duchesses! Where are they now? In Ekaterinburg? Are they still there? What are they doing now?" She asks excitedly.
The Romanovs are some of the many people I see in my visions. I used to see them very often by simply willing my mind to do so, and then I would tell my daughter lots of real little stories about the Grand Duchesses, which I learned about thanks to this strange gift from God.
Little Anastasiaʼs pranks, Mariaʼs kindness, Olgaʼs intelligence, and of course, I tried to make Katya behave sometimes by telling her that Grand Duchess Tatiana Nikolaevna Romanova, the most beautiful of all, always obeyed her parents.
What can I say? What little girl does not like to hear about princesses? And how could I not use my ability, which is a curse most of the time, for something that genuinely makes Katya happy? I regret it now, however. These are real girls, real women, and real life. Bad things happen, what do I tell my little Katya now? That their parents were murdered in front of them?
"They are still together in Ekaterinburg, dying of boredom", I lie with a smile. There is nothing new about them that her innocent five-year-old ears should hear.
My daughter laughs out loud as if my joke were actually funny.
Could I tell her that two men came for the little brother? That I got so upset after this happened that I completely stopped having visions of the Romanovs? That when I do have visions I try to block them out of my mind and then forget about them immediately? That I don't know where any of them are now because their story may not have a happy ending and I am not prepared to see it?
"Can you tell me their futures then? And will I be able to marry the Tsesarevich and become the Tsarina?" She asks the two questions in quick succession.
"Remember I can't see the future darling", I answer, endeared by my daughterʼs interest. "Now, it is late, time to go to bed."
Katya pouts. "Can't you tell me another story?" She asks with a sparkle in her eyes, and I almost give in. "It can be about anything!"
"No, it is late. I promise I will tell you lots of things tomorrow. I have many interesting stories for you." I answer truthfully, and she seems comforted by this.
There really are thousands of stories to tell, and from now on, I will make sure they are all fictional. I kiss Katyaʼs forehead and caress her dark blond hair. We say our prayers together before I sing to help her sleep. Then I turn off the lights and leave to join my husband in bed.
Oo
I have seen the future, but I do not want to tell my daughter any of my possibly inaccurate predictions. My poor child. I should definitely not have filled her little head with this almost fairytale-like story that may still end in tragedy.
I had several visions of the future weeks ago, back when the Romanovs were still imprisoned at the Ipatiev House. I thought I had made an obvious mistake, because Marinaʼs prophecy was, seemingly, about to be fulfilled, and I was no match for a woman who had seen 300 years into the future.
When her son, the child of a false Dmitri, was hanged during the Time of Troubles, Marina cursed the Romanovs. "Be damned, house Romanov!" She cried. "In Ipatiev Monastery you started, in Ipatiev House you will finish! You began with the death of Tsesarevich, and you will end with Tsesarevich's death!" The Polish noblewoman was referring to the time the first Tsar, Michael Romanov, had spent living in the Ipatiev Monastery.
Marina's prophecy was not fulfilled, at least not entirely. Seeing the future is hard, and one cannot fully understand what is happening in a vision without the full context. Marina did not see the beginning nor the end, only the middle.
Tsesarvich Alexei didn't die. His dynasty did not end with him. Something dreadful did happen at the Ipatiev House though. Those boring moments down in that cellar were the last his loving family would ever spend together before being ripped apart. Five innocent children were forced to witness the murder of their parents. Then they were split, maybe forever. That was Marina's vengeance.
But perhaps Marina's words have simply not come to pass yet, and just like the Ipatiev Monastery was only the beginning for Tsar Michael I, the Ipatiev House might have been just the beginning of the end for Tsesarevich Alexei.
Predicting the future is harder indeed. Few seers are able to do it, let alone do it properly. I suspect this because, otherwise, there would be hundreds of fulfilled prophecies all over the world. Our existence would be acknowledged by scientists. Politicians and military men would be hiring us by the dozens.
I mainly see things that are happening in the present or occurred in the past, which can be easily explained away and on its own may not be very impressive, so I have always assumed that if there are more people like me around the world, their existence is hidden by relatives, friends, and acquaintances calling them prying or meddling.
If I do see the future, it is presented to me through nonsensical images and sounds that probably need to be interpreted in order to make sense.
Sometimes, I am completely wrong. Sometimes, I have a good vision that tells me everything I need to know, but I am unable to interpret it properly until the events in question have come to pass. Sometimes, my visions are correct, but I am still wrong.
That is why I stopped telling people their fortunes for rubles in my village. I experienced many embarrassing moments. Some called me a charlatan, and neither of those I told lies or half-truths ever forgot the offense. Even now, whenever I return to my village to visit my family, I fear encountering those people. I lost my best and only childhood friend to one of my faulty prophecies. I predicted that she would marry the man she loved, but my vision, in which I saw her kissing him, had only indicated that the man would seduce her without marrying her. He left the village the following morning.
It is partly my fault. My friend really thought that he would keep his word and marry her soon enough, all because of what I said. Some people started ostracizing her, and Anna never talked to me again. She left the village as well to travel the country and never came back. I really miss her.
Oo
My first vision of the Romanovsʼ future was that of two shining stars. The brightest I had ever seen. I knew that those two stars were the big pair. I saw their faces in the light. Then I saw three stars, or four stars. The third star, right between the sisters, shone the brightest, for it was made up of two stars, one in front of the other. Now that I have gathered up the courage to focus on Olga and Tatianaʼs futures again, I see the same thing. I do not know what this means, but it may be a good sign.
Mariaʼs future, on the other hand, is a worrying sight. There is also a star, but it barely shines. For instants, it isn't there. It is so small and insignificant I worry I might have imagined it out of fear for the girlʼs future. The star appears and disappears.
My heart sinks at the thought of Anastasia and Alexeiʼs futures. Theirs are the most unsettling visions of them all.
When I think of Alexeiʼs future, all I see is darkness. Black, pure, unadulterated darkness. I only have visions like those when the person I am focusing on has died or is about to, and I have always been correct, without exceptions.
Death is the only thing I can predict accurately. I told many of my acquaintances about their sonsʼ deaths in battle way before they received any news from the front. The knowledge came from those visions.
They did not always believe me, but I was never mistaken. Once they had gotten the tragic news, many thanked me for preparing them for the terrible blow. Others blamed me for the deaths, saying I was a witch who had murdered their sons. I do not blame them. Their grief must have been unbearable.
My husband got angry whenever I told parents or widows that I had predicted their loved onesʼ deaths, saying it was best not to say anything until they received the messages themselves, but I disagreed. I thought they deserved to know as soon as anyone close to them did. Now I understand my husband's point of view.
I already mourn the poor heir. Such a good boy, such compassion for someone so young. In the words of his own late mother, perfect son-in-law he would have been. I know I must tell my daughter sooner or later. Maybe I will tell her tomorrow.
My visions of Anastasiaʼs future, or lack thereof, are the strangest I have ever had. I do not see anything. Not even darkness. If I do perceive something, it is another girl. Whenever I fail to see a personʼs future, I see something from their past or present instead. Anything. Never does my mind go blank like this, never am I presented someone else.
Anastasiaʼs name does give me a bit of hope for her though. The meaning of her name is resurrection, hope itself, and names are what they are for a reason.
I see my own childrenʼs future a lot more easily. I know both my darling baby girl and my not yet conceived baby boy will survive childhood and grow to have children of their own. I see so much happiness in their futures, but I also see suffering. A war greater than the Great War is coming. It brings an evil enemy as cruel and vicious as the most radical revolutionaries of today's youth, but way more ambitious and destructive.
Perhaps this enemy is simply a particularly bloodthirsty red faction. I have seen their flags, and they are red, but they sport a distinct symbol I think I have seen before. It is not the hammer and the sickle though.
My son will bleed and suffer for the motherland so terribly that he may remain haunted for the rest of his days. Another worrying fact is that I haven't seen my daughterʼs husband in any vision taking place after this terrible war. Curiously enough, sometimes I see a giant mushroom when I think of that future conflict. My prophetic visions are nonsense more often than not.
Some nights I cry myself to sleep thinking about my visions. It has become a daily occurrence. I am crying right now as I hug my husband, who is already asleep. I want to wake him up, to conceive our child right now, or tomorrow, this entire week.
I want to kiss him, become one with him, and stay that way for hours. I want to enjoy his presence every single second I can. I am waking him up right now. I am going to tell him that I am crying because of the Tsesarevich, that I need him to console me. But the main reason I am crying is that two days ago, I started to see darkness in Andreiʼs future as well, a darkness that is always accompanied by a childʼs terrified whimpers as he asks a heartbreaking question: "Where are you taking me?"