Unfortunate stretches his hand, puts it on top of my and Vika's joined palms.
– You believed in the moment… one single moment that would redeem all sins and mistakes. I killed this faith.
It's even funny for me to listen to these words. Does he really think so?
Did I really think so?
– It's not the deep, Unfortunate, – I say, – Not this deep.
He nods.
– Do you remember the mirror labyrinth, Leonid?
Sure I do…
– The deep gave you millions of mirrors diver, the magic mirrors. One can see himself, one can see the world – any of its corners. One can draw the world and it'll become alive, reflected in the mirror. This is a wonderful gift. But mirrors are too obedient diver, obedient and deceitful. The mask put on once becomes the face. The vice turns into finesse, the snobbery into elite stuff, the spite into sincerity. The journey into the mirror world isn't an easy stroll, it's too easy to get lost.
– I know…
– That's only why I'm talking to you – because you know. I would like to be your friend too, Leonid.
He smiles sadly, then adds:
– But it would be a very strange friendship…
– Alien and Russian – brothers forever? – inquires Vika sarcastically. { A mock of the Stalin's times song: "Stalin and Mao watch upon us… […] Russian and Chinese – brothers forever." } So Unfortunate didn't convince her, not at all. For her he's still a human, a cunning hacker taking everyone in…
I'm mirthless but I say:
– I'm not asking who you are. Believe it or not, but I don't care… An alien from the stars or from another dimension, or the machine mind. But you know much more then we do anyway. Tell me, what will happen?
– It depends in what mirror you are looking, diver.
– Then I'll choose, Unfortunate, and I'll be very picky. Now – leave.
He removes his hand from ours.
For a second nothing happens, then the wall behind hid back starts bending, curling up into a funnel.
Unfortunate makes a step back, into the shiny tunnel leading towards unknown, towards the blue sun and orange bands flying beneath it, into his world. His body shivers and blurs, cascades of colorful sparks streaming from his skin. For a moment it seems to me that I can see – see the one who visited our world.
But most likely, I just want to give the miracle a name too much.
– Remember us… – I say to escaping flashes of light, – Remember us as we are…
The house begins to shake, the walls become transparent, then pale green, then brick ones, then made of paper. The ceiling crawls up and bends in a dome, the floor turns into the mirror, the light in the window passes all spectrum colors and burns our silhouettes on the paper wall. The apartment turns into a huge hall as if all directions were stretched by an order.
The tunnel narrows slowly, but there's still time… to jump after Unfortunate – and to see where he came from, to tear the mask from the miracle.
– Lenia, what is this? – shouts Vika.
– The data, – I answer. The wind begins to blow through the apartment, a room pomegranate in a flowerpot blossoms, a pile of CDs on the shelf starts playing all songs simultaneously. – He copies the data, brings everything he learned with himself.
Half transparent shadows rush past us. Alex with the carbine at ready runs by, then a monstrous spider rushes by, stepping with its paws, that imaginary family which we rescued in "Labyrinth" goes down the tunnel too. A huge tree flies away, rotating as a propeller, a hobbit with a scared muzzle minces out, a flying Man Without Face's guard with a fire breathing jet knapsack stalks out in huge jumps.
Then me and Vika walk in. Hand in hand.
– Remember us, – I repeat, – Remember…
The tunnel narrows more like a cameras's aperture. At the last moment the flying slippers of Computer Wiz squeeze into it, flapping their wings.
Then the room returns to normal.
– I don't believe that he's an alien anyway, – says Vika, in unsure voice but stubbornly, – If he's a good hacker, then he could…
She silences when I hug her shoulders.
– Please Vika, don't, – I ask, – He have left, haven't he? Forever. It's not necessary to argue now, we can just believe.
There's a noise in the street, an exchange of opinions. Have they seen at least anything of what we did? It doesn't matter. The new legend was born in the deep.
– He have left, but we stay, – says Vika, – and there's a hunt after you.
I nod, slowly releasing her, step to the window and look down. Man Without Face is still motionless.
– Leonid the diver must leave too. – I agree.
– Will you miss your house? – asks Vika. How great it is when it's not necessary to explain anything.
– A little… like I'd miss a kiddie's three-wheeler.
I return to her and hug again, her lips find mine.
And this is something that will never leave from now on.
– Abyss… – I call silently.
The house shakes again when the rental server in distant Minsk receives the command. Magnetic head slides along the disk surface – deleting.
One turn – and the first floor with the scandalous pensioner disappears. Another turn – and the sixth floor with the quiet graphomaniac is gone, another – and the tenth floor with vinyl collector is no more.
My computer livens up and the apartment walls fade. I don't look at the table, but I know well that the drawn Vika on the display smiles to me – for the last time. Programs don't feel sad when we delete them, people do but I have no choice. If you get lost in the mirror labyrinth – break the mirrors, reach for the light…
A crowd bursts into shouts when my house dissolves in the air. Poor Jordan will have to prove that it wasn't his fault.
We fly above Deeptown in a hug, looking into each other's eyes.
– Great… – whispers Vika.
– I have no idea myself how I do it…
– You have no idea how you're kissing? – she asks in surprise.
… No, never will I understand a woman's logic.
By the connection of the Ukranian and Baltic blocks, near a supermarket, I find a quiet spot between phone booths and a fountain. This is where we come out from. Not at once though.
– You're erasing all your traces? – inquires Vika.
I nod in silence.
– Do you hope they'll not find you?
– I'll try. Maybe they'll be able to figure the city out… but even this isn't likely. It would be better if they won't know even this.
– What about trusting me?
– St. Petersburg, – I say. I want so much to hear that we're compatriots, but Vika frowns.
– Piter… Lenia, wait here, okay?
I wait. She runs into the supermarket while I reach the Minsk server again, checking for any trace that might have left, then move along all spare addresses, even along those never used – and kill them scratching all data from everywhere mercilessly – from strimmers and magnetooptics, Bernulli's storage and optical disks. The last one to be cleaned is my ISP's disk. That's it. Now I never entered the deep.
Vika returns.
– Got into a long waiting line, can you imagine? – she laughs.
– An urgent shopping?
– One thing.
She waves a farsightedly folded plane ticket before my face, I just can see where is she about to fly.
– Are you free in the morning?
– Don't you fear to fly?
– What can I do, it'd be too long by all other means… Will you meet me?
– What flight?
– Wait for me by the information booth at ten in the morning.
A little game of independency… I can reach the cash register in the supermarket right now and find out who and from where have just bought the ticket to St. Petersburg.