I'm not just a thief resistant to the deep's hypnosis anymore, I'm the deep itself, a part of it…
I lean over and pick up a 100 dollar note. It is even possible to remember it's serial number. It's possible to do so that it never appeared here at all according to the bank's documents.
Everything is possible now – or almost everything.
I throw the piece of paper back on the conveyor belt and pad to the wall. One step – and the world fades, falls down, turns into the flat scheme under my feet. A huge sheet rolled out into the void, I soar above, looking at the threads of the streets.
Here's my house.
I dive down to it, pierce the plane of the scheme, feel asphalt beneath my feet. No more efforts, no more rhymes and begs to the deep. I don't ask my body to breathe after all, do I?
Vika and Unfortunate stand by the entrance, talking. Then Vika notices me and silences in confusion. I wave my hand, walk towards them and Vika runs to meet me.
10
I shut the door of the entrance and mingle with the lock for some time. Vika still holds my hand, and it's quite difficult to start security systems using one hand only. Finally I just order the door to shut. The lock clicks and the light of the alarm system starts blinking. Unfortunate raises his head – looks like he felt something.
– What did he do to you? – asks Vika. Only now, when we're isolated from the outer world she relaxes a little. Probably I wasn't right not hurrying to her at once.
– The deep program, – I find the simple reason, explaining to her what happened. – The cycling deep program, the endless dive.
Vika frowns, she understands.
– It was impossible to surface.
– But you…
– … Found a detour, – I say glancing at Unfortunate askance. – Vika, how did it look like from aside?
– Dibenko threw something at you… – she knits her brow, remembering,
– Like a handkerchief of some kind… and you fell into it. It looked like a very powerful virus.
– What about Romka?
Vika looks at me in surprise.
– The wolf. It's Romka, the werewolf diver, my friend.
– He burned him, down to ashes. He just grabbed his throat and he blazed up.
I stay silent, what can I say? Visual effects of the virus might be different, the most important thing is how did it influence Romka's machine. I was always thinking he has a weak computer, like mine, maybe even without magnetooptics. If Man Without Face had used a brute-force weapon, Romka will have to reinstall all soft from scratch.
– Lenia…
I nod. It's not the time to express sympathy about others' troubles.
It's never enough time for that though…
– Let's go, – I nod to her and Unfortunate. – I live on 11th floor.
– Who else lives here?
– Nobody. Now – nobody. – I say squeezing into the elevator cabin. I push the button, a jerk and we crawl up. Vika frowns, she really fears heights… even of this type.
– Did anyone live here before?
– Well… in some sense, – I evade her question. The doors open and we exit to the stairs. Unfortunate looks around curiously.
– Here's my palace… welcome… – I say unlocking the apartment, then add for Unfortunate only, – Returning the visit?
He nods.
Vika enters first, she delays by the threshold as if thinking whether she should take off her shoes or not. Sure not and she understands that. { When entering an apartment, Russians usually leave shoes worn outside by the entrance. Special slippers are used inside apartments. }
– The bathroom-toilet and the kitchen are to the right. The room and the balcony are to the left. – I inform politely.
Vika looks into the room carefully, her look slides across the faded wallpaper, stops for a second on the computer table, sofa, fridge and dresser. She's possibly disappointed. Sure!
– It's strange… – says Vika and I feel that she exits the deep for a second and looks at my living place from reality.
Go ahead… I just don't want to be in your sight at this moment.
– Let's go, – I pull Unfortunate's hand. – Want me to teach you how to brew coffee?
Unfortunate walks into the kitchen instead of an answer, quickly chooses the most expensive and at the same time the best coffee from the number of packages, takes the biggest coffee pot and the salt dispenser.
– A-ha, – I just say.
– Hundreds of servers have cooking recipes, – notes Unfortunate, – A girl from Rostov have added one more 5 minutes ago, quite interesting one. Should we risk to try it?
It would be strange to hope that I can teach him anything. Except maybe the ability to shoot at people.
But I doubt this is an ability he'd appreciate.
– Be at home, – I just answer returning to the room. Vika sits on the sofa examining the bookshelf.
– I'm back, – I inform her and Vika closes her eyes, just for a moment, to return into the deep.
– It's strange, – she repeats. – Lenia, for some reason I've been expecting…
– … To see the palace?
– No, not necessarily the palace, but at least something…
– Something like your hut?
She nods silently. I can quite understand her confusion: she was definitely sure I'm a spatial designer. But she saw a pathetic apartment instead, even if well drawn but definitely not deserving an honor to be immortalized in virtuality.
– Follow me, – I say, – Unfortunate, we'll leave for a minute! If something happens, we're in the stairwell somewhere.
Vika follows me obediently. It's clean and quiet in the stairs. I put my finger to my lips:
– Hush… Don't disturb anyone…
– But you've said there's nobody else in the house… – whispers Vika.
– But what if not? – I answer mysteriously, pad to the door opposite to mine and take a piece of bent wire from my pocket. It's just like I imagine a picklock. Vika waits, already intrigued.
I pick at the wire in the lock and of course it opens. Sure, it was planned this way… Then we enter.
It's a big three room apartment { 'two bedroom' according to American standards }. Some clothes – jackets and cloaks hang on hooks by the door. A kid's bicycle is leaned against the wall. Footwear is scattered along the wall. I give slippers to Vika, change myself and say:
– It's a habit to change footwear inside here. The family is big, four kids, they would take too much dirt from outside… and the floors are cold. { Floors are almost never carpeted in Russia, they are either painted wood or vinyl covered. Some rugs and carpets are common but these never cover the floor completely. } Vika stays silent, she have accepted the rules of the game.
We look into the kitchen – an old Polish kitchen furniture is there, yet from the Soviet times, lots of spices' jars, some sorts of pickled veggies and jams in big cans. The pot with hot borsch is on the stove top together with a pan of meat rissoles. A quiet green street can be seen outside the window and Vika glues to it instantly. Kids shout outside on the playground, a woman walks with an old slow poodle just by the doorway.
– Who lives here? – asks Vika.
– I know only their names – Viktor Pavlovich and Anna Petrovna. Their older daughter Lida finishes high school, and they also have three boys: Oleg, Kostya, Igor'.