I realized that the past cannot be corrected. Each time there was a teenager waiting for me. Driven by youthful maximalism and rejection of the older generation. But the future is in our hands. Do you know what good future awaits you?
– So you looked into my future too?
Belgorodsky smiled conspiratorially.
– You will become a great scientist, make a breakthrough in mathematics and physics. During your school years, you really liked studying mathematics.
– Which one is it? After prison, I wasn’t even hired as a loader everywhere.
– Change your last name.
The professor pulled me by the elbow and led me to the mirror.
– I forgot to introduce myself at our first meeting. My name is Nikita. Twenty-five years ago I changed my last name. Becoming Belgorodsky. And before that he bore the surname Sivtsov.
I peered into the old man’s facial features. But the scar on his cheek is exactly the same as mine! There is a scar on his arm: apparently, he once had a tattoo in this place. This can’t be true.
– The past cannot be changed, the «matryoshka effect» will not give it. But the future is in your hands, Sivtsov-Belgorodsky. Don’t let the nesting doll close your future too.
The alarm clock rang. I woke up. Under my feet lay a bottle of vodka I had drunk yesterday, but my head didn’t hurt. And for some reason the mood was high: I knew. That this is the last bottle of vodka. Alcohol is a thing of the past. And the future is in my hands.
Entanglement of Souls
Have you noticed the invisible connection that arises between close people? You reach for the phone to dial her, and at the same second the call rings: it’s her. This connection is not weakened by thousands of kilometers. Sometimes you can’t find a place for yourself: anxiety leading to panic. You make a call and she breaks her leg. But I once encountered a stranger manifestation of such quantum entanglement of souls.
The sun is a thermonuclear reactor. Usually it gives warmth and life, but on this day the withered grass drooped its «head» stems in the hope of hiding from its overprotection. It smelled… what does it usually smell like in cities? Exhaust fumes, asphalt melting under the summer heat. Dust. The smells coming from the cafes contrast, but at fifty degrees in the sun this smell does not seem pleasant.
When entering the subway, I put on a medical mask, hoping to protect myself from an invisible enemy. There’s no crowding of people; they make noise, hurry somewhere, as if at this pace of life they will have time to see more than they are destined to see. Ants are too small to see the whole world; their life is only enough for an anthill. But on this day I did not see any malice on the faces of those I met: even under the masks one could read a slight smile. Everyone is tired of hiding from the virus in concrete prisons; they want to see their colleagues and take a break from the gaze of the web camera. A person quickly gets used to new conditions, so many, when a policeman is not watching them, strive to pull the mask down to their chin: they are tired of living in fear. How many epidemics have we survived! Will we survive today in stuffiness and a mask?
Got on the escalator. There is a wall of people in front and behind, so there is no choice: move forward and only there. SHE was rushing towards me in the same cage of human bodies. Our gazes met for a moment, and then the river carried her upward, to freedom. I tried to turn around to extend this visual acquaintance, but those behind me began to shout something unpleasant. The metro is a cemetery of feelings; everyone wants to bury a piece of their negativity here. The lower you go underground, the angrier people are.
The day passed as usual: routine, many calls, reports. Plants absorb viviparous sunlight and moisture, people make paper from plants, such is the bureaucratic cycle. But that day I couldn’t concentrate on anything: her eyes were in front of my eyes. If I were a world-famous writer, I would not be able to describe her face: her features either clearly emerged in my head or were hidden in the fog. If I were a policeman, I would have prepared an identikit long ago and posted a search notice throughout the city.
My colleagues and I went to a nearby cafe for lunch. Daily empty conversations: yesterday a beauty spent the night with Semyon again, Ilya caught a ten-kilogram (according to him) ide over the weekend, Dimon and Slava discussed the next mission in «Tanks». I said some nonsense myself. Sometimes it seems to me that people practice blowing soap bubbles: the larger the ball, the higher your status, but inside it is empty. At that moment everything was nonsense to me except her eyes. I stopped blinking so as not to scare me away: there she was, sitting at the next table. She smiled at me mysteriously and waved her hand. Now I had time to see the black raven hair and the small dimple on the chin. The boys turned around to follow the direction of my gaze.
– Hey, Sanya, did you see a ghost there?
I came out of my stupor. He blinked – and the next table was empty, there was no sign of her.
– Yes, I was thinking about my own things. Never mind.
«You’re kind of thoughtful today.» Who is she? – Semyon winked at me conspiratorially.
– Later, guys. I’ll tell you everything.
These are the stars who have affairs with fake kisses on camera. That’s why they are stars, to shine for everyone. For the common man, love hides behind the curtains: the fewer witnesses, the stronger the connection.
That night she came in a dream for the first time. This time I managed to see not only the diamonds of her bottomless blue eyes and the unnatural blackness of her hair, but also every curve of her body. A sculptor creates a masterpiece from some detail, and then fills in the missing parts. I slowly reached out to her, afraid to wake up from any sudden movement and frighten away my dream. She hit me on the arm and pouted playfully.
– Impudent. Not on the first date. Otherwise I will never come to you again.
– What is your name?
«Try to come up with a name for me yourself,» she glanced briefly from under her lowered eyelashes.
– The name must be unusual. Secret. Yes, I would call you Mystery.
«You can call me Mystery if you want.»
– And my name is…
– Sorry, not today. Let’s agree tomorrow.
An alarm clock is a guardian of time. Every morning he reminds you how fleeting the nights are. You’ll sleep an extra minute, then another one the next day, and you won’t notice. How life goes by. But that morning I didn’t want to wake up at all. Maybe a dream is reality, and what we consider reality is just a simulation? Get crazy. It would soon be night again.
Mint flavor of toothpaste. Two eggs on a hot frying pan. The bitter taste of invigorating coffee and the poisonous smoke filling the lungs – there is no way to wake up without them. The Ministry of Health warns, but what in city life does not harm our health? Maybe stress at work is good, or the crush on the subway?
All in all, an ordinary morning. Only this time I eagerly peered into their faces, hoping to see the one and only thing. During the break, I went to the same cafe and sat at the same table, but she was no longer there. The only time in my life that I appreciated my introversion. I also often spent an entire shift in silence, so even today no one noticed anything unusual in my behavior. I didn’t want to explain anything to anyone. I really wanted to fall asleep quickly.
As soon as I closed my eyelids, she was there again, only this time naked.
– I told you that nothing would happen on the first date, but today is the second.
She pressed her lips to mine.
***
Cold and dark. There seemed to be no beginning or end to them. A man’s silhouette