A remnant of sunlight streamed into Alexander's office through the window. In the place of nervousness reigned the most absolute peace.
There was nothing on the monitor - just a desk full of garbage. The real desk is also full of trash, and the stack of books on it is like an artifact. All those books are from Russian authors, all those books are in Russian. We can say that Alexander, who is sprawled in his chair and reading, has found the island of tranquility that was allotted to him.
And it would be desirable that it should always continue like that, but there was a knock on the door. Alexander sharply, for a second, raises his eyes to the door, then in a slight hurry puts all the books under the table and allows him to enter. The door opens, with Neil behind the door. Without coming in, he says that everyone is already in the cafeteria, and only Alexander is missing. He, in turn, rises from the table and walks to the door; turning off the lights, he follows Neil into the cafeteria.
Neil talks tirelessly about the small successes in improving the memory editor system. The whole time they were walking down the hall, the whole time they were in the elevator. As they went downstairs and moved toward the cafeteria, Alexander stops one step from their door and told Neil to shut up. He, surprised, stops talking. Alexander thanks him and walks into the cafeteria.
There were indeed a lot of people there - almost all of them, not counting those who had decided to spend the day at home, lying in beds or three meters underground with no way to replace them. Everyone had broken into their own pairs and piles, all talking about their own things. Neil tugged Alexander by the sleeve and silently pointed to a lone Eve sitting in empty solitude far away from everyone. They walked toward her.
TTTTT
"И горе мне, если впал я в безмолвие, или уставился на лик Луны…"
The stereo in Alexander's car is singing. It has a disk of "Prince of Silence", bought at a flea market from an American who did not understand these songs. The radio didn't play it - only niche stations outside this state would play it on their airwaves, and by some kind of a miraculous decision.
The interior was spacious, warm and comfortable. A light breeze blows in Alexander. Outside the windows cars pass by on the narrow streets. Behind the windows people in different forms pass by. Outside the windows is a different reality, outside the windows are other lives. Living with you, Alexander thinks.
Recently, a couple days ago, Alexander received a reply from his sister. She will come to his town, meet him. Maybe even move in next door. Her answer on that black evening is a balm to Alexander's soul. It had been too long since they'd met. Too much distance between them tormented him.
And here he is driving in his car, a black sedan, where in the stereo plays "Prince of Silence". The meeting place spotted, Alexander slows down and turns off the stereo. Parks in silence. He gets out of the car and is immediately hit by a cold wind. He covers his eyes with his hand so as not to be blinded by the pale, poor sun.
Alexander enters the store first. A spacious and sterile room where the air conditioners are always running and people are always smiling falsely. He walks over and picks up a mint gum pack - the cheapest among the whole assortment. He gets in line behind the man who is now paying for groceries. He sees that an argument is about to break out. And it begins, the disgruntled customer yells like a slaughtered pig, accusing everyone, and especially the "incompetent" cashier, of all worldly sins. Stomping his foot, he pays for products, picks them up and leaves.
Alexander quickly buys some gum and walks hurriedly away from the store. Then, along the sidewalk to a small café on the corner, where they agreed to meet. Before going inside, he opens the packet and starts chewing. The effect is achieved, he tucks the gum in his mouth under his tongue and goes inside.
TTTTT
It's almost night. The city has not fallen asleep yet, so Alexander gets dressed and leaves his apartment. He locks the door, takes the elevator downstairs, leaves the apartment building. Hides in the car, from other people's invisible gazes. Starts the engine, drives out of town - to a small town, a few kilometers away.
On the way he does not leave various fidgety thoughts. He would like to drive them away, but he can't. The music from the stereo does not warm the soul, the stories in his head - dreary and incomprehensible, always with a bad ending. Everything twists and turns, mocking, in an incomprehensible dance. The streets narrow, the river dries up, the trees fall their dead leaves. People and cars disappear in an unknown direction.
But Alexander goes. Drives, and because of that determination, one of his thoughts stops fighting and turns into a spark that sets a great fire. In his hands is one of his biggest leads. In his gaze is a potential path to a goal. All that's left is to apply it to the scheme, all that's left is to tread it - and then everything is forgotten, everything is rendered superfluous before the finale.
He crosses the line, and now the city is behind him. The forest is all around, and the rare cars are driving in the opposite direction - towards the source of light, away from the horrors lurking behind the branches. Alexander doesn't give up on his thoughts - he keeps driving, against the currents and winds. He rises up against the horrors that bared their sharp fangs.
And now, the small town is on the horizon. Its houses on the hill stand atlanto, keeping the sky from falling with their chimneys. Thoughts stop warring, there are fewer and fewer of them - and breathing becomes easier. The nervous system stabilizes, the electrical pulsation returns to its usual pace. Strangely soothing music begins to play in his head.
Alexander slows down, observing the houses. He wheels around and around, reading the identifying signs - and with each branch down other streets, he gets closer and closer. And now, a small house, no different from the others, is his target. Alexander parks and gets out. He walks down an old path that hasn't been repaired, it seems, since its inception.
He walks up to the door and knocks. A jeep drives by. There is the sound of a critter somewhere. A shuffle, the lock clicks - the door opens. On the threshold stands a man in his fifties or sixties, of identical height to Alexander, in good physical shape, with a sort of hairdo on his head, wearing glasses, a T-shirt and jeans.
Alexander asks if the man he sees is Nikolai Znakharev. The man answers in the affirmative. Alexander introduces himself and says that he is here on business. Nikolai listens to him attentively and then steps aside, letting Alexander inside.