“You’ve always got to be where you’re supposed to be,” Modest Matveevich continued. “Always. You’ve got a university education, and glasses, and you’ve grown that fine beard, but you still can’t even grasp a simple theorem like that.”
“It won’t happen again,” I said, opening my eyes wide.
“That’s quite enough of that,” said Modest Matveevich, softening. He took a sheet of paper out of his pocket and looked at it for a moment. “Right, then, Privalov,” he said eventually, “today it’s your turn to stand watch. Night watch in an institution over a holiday is a serious responsibility. Not as simple as pressing those buttons of yours.
“First, there’s fire safety. That’s the first thing, to forestall any occurrences of spontaneous combustion. Ensure that the production facilities entrusted to your care are disconnected from the power supply. And do it in person—none of that doubling-up or tripling-up trickery. None of those doubles of yours. If you discover an incident of combustion, call 01 immediately and start taking measures. For this eventuality you are provided with an alarm whistle to summon the emergency team.” He handed me a platinum whistle with an inventory number on it.
“And don’t you let anyone in. This is the list of individuals who have permission to use the laboratories at night, but don’t you let them in either, because it’s a holiday. Not a single living soul in the entire Institute. All those other souls and spirits—that’s all right, but not a single living one. Put a spell on the demons at the entrance and the exit. You understand the situation. Not a single living soul must get in, and none of the others must get out. Because we’ve already had a press-eedent: when a devil got out and stole the moon. A very famous press-eedent it was too—they even made it into a film.” He gave me a meaningful look and suddenly asked to see my papers.
I showed them to him. He examined my pass closely, gave it back to me, and said, “All in order. Just for a moment there I suspected you were a double after all. All right, then. At fifteen hundred hours in accordance with the currently applicable labor regulations, the working day will end and everyone will hand in the keys to their production premises. Following which you will personally inspect all the Institute’s premises. After that you make your rounds every three hours for purposes of spontaneous combustion. During your period of duty you will visit the vivarium at least twice. If the supervisor is drinking tea, stop him. We’ve had reports it’s not tea he’s drinking. That’s the way of things. Your post is in the director’s waiting room. You can rest on the sofa. Tomorrow at sixteen hundred hours you will be relieved by Vladimir Pochkin from comrade Oira-Oira’s laboratory. Is that clear?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
“I’ll call you during the night and tomorrow afternoon. You may also be checked by comrade head of the Personnel Department.”
“I understand,” I said, and ran my eye down the list. The first name on the list was the Institute’s director, Janus Polyeuctovich Nevstruev, with a penciled note: “Two-off.” Second came Modest Matveevich himself, and third was comrade head of the Personnel Department citizen Cerberus Psoevich Demin. They were followed by names I’d never come across anywhere before.
“Is anything unclear?” inquired Modest Matveevich, who had been following my movements suspiciously.
“Just here,” I said gravely, jabbing my finger at the list, “I have identified a sequence of… twenty-two comrades with whom I am not personally acquainted. I would like to run through these names with you in person.” I looked him straight in the eye and said, “As a precautionary measure.”
Modest Matveevich took the list and examined it, holding it at arm’s length. “All in order,” he said condescendingly. “It’s just that you, Privalov, are not up to speed. The individuals listed from number 4 to number 25 inclusive have been entered in the list of individuals allowed to work at night posthumously. In acknowledgment of services rendered previously. Is that clear now?”
I felt a little bit freaked. After all, it was pretty hard to get used to all this stuff.
“Take up your post,” Modest Matveevich said majestically. “Allow me, comrade Privalov, on behalf of the administration, to wish you every appropriate success in your professional and private life in the New Year.”
I wished him appropriate success too and went out into the corridor.
When I had learned the day before that I was going to be on duty, I’d been delighted: I was intending to finish off a calculation for Roman Oira-Oira. But now I realized that things weren’t quite that simple. The prospect of spending the night in the Institute suddenly appeared to me in an entirely different light. I’d stayed on to work late before, when the guys on watch had economized by switching off four lamps out of five in every corridor and I had to make my way to the exit past twitching masses of tangled shadows. At first I found this very disturbing, then I got used to it, but then I got unused to it again when one day I was walking down the wide corridor and I heard the regular clicking of claws on parquet flooring and glanced back to see some kind of phosphorescent beast running along behind me, clearly following my tracks. In actual fact, when they brought me down from the cornice, it turned out to have been an ordinary live dog that belonged to one of the staff. The staff member concerned came to apologize and Oira-Oira lectured me on the harmfulness of superstition, but even so it all left a pretty bitter aftertaste. The first thing I’ll do, I thought, is put the spell on the demons.
At the entrance to the director’s waiting room I ran into the morose Vitka Korneev. He nodded gloomily and was about to walk by, but I caught hold of his sleeve.
“What?” Korneev said rudely, stopping.
“I’m on duty today,” I informed him.
“More fool you,” said Korneev.
“You’re so rude, Vitka,” I said. “I don’t think I’ll bother talking to you any more.”
Vitka pulled down the collar of his sweater with one finger and looked at me curiously. “What are you going to do with me, then?”
“I’ll think of something,” I said, rather uncertainly.
Vitka suddenly livened up. “Hang on,” he said. “You mean this is the first time you’ve done the night watch?”
“Yes.”
“Aha,” said Vitka. “And just how do you intend to proceed?”
“According to instructions,” I replied. “I’ll put a spell on the demons and go to sleep. For purposes of spontaneous combustion. Where are you going to be?”
“Oh, there’s a few people getting together,” Vitka said vaguely. “At Vera’s place… what’s that you’ve got there?” He took my list. “Ah, the dead souls…”
“I won’t let anyone in,” I said. “Dead or alive.”
“A correct decision,” said Vitka. “Impeccably correct. Only keep an eye on my lab. There’ll be a double working in there.”
“Whose double?”
“My double, of course. Who else would give me theirs? I’ve locked him in there—here, take the key, since you’re on duty.”
I took the key. “Listen, Vitka, he can work until about ten, but after that I’ll disconnect everything. In accordance with regulations.”
“OK, we’ll sort that out somehow. Have you seen Edik anywhere around?”
“No, I haven’t,” I said. “And don’t you go trying to pull a fast one. I’m disconnecting everything at ten o’clock.”
“That’s just fine by me. Disconnect away. Disconnect the whole town if you like.”
Then the door of the waiting room opened and Janus Polyeuctovich came out into the corridor. “I see,” he said when he saw us there.
I bowed respectfully. I could tell from Janus Polyeuctovich’s face that he’d forgotten my name.