Somehow we managed a fifteen-minute walk to my friend’s apartment without getting killed by a possessed car or a zombie bus. Hopefully, that meant that my sorry excuse of a disguise was enough to throw off face recognition software. Or maybe, a thought cautiously crawled through my mind, my mysterious adversaries weren’t so omnipresent and omnipotent, after all. The thought was mildly encouraging. 

Tia was walking beside me, trying to keep up. She looked like she was having fun, not the least bit worried. Come to think of it, this was not a typical reaction for someone who had just witnessed an ominous subway train hack, followed by a rushed escape through a dark and rat-infested tunnel. Equally exceptional was her decision to stick with a total stranger that was supposedly pursued by some unknown ruthless killers. As if this was all a game for her. An escape room with fun and challenging puzzles to solve, to tickle her nerves in a pretend play, just to return to the normal flow of life an hour later.

“Tia, you know you don’t have to come with me, right? It’s…” – I was looking for words, trying not to sound like a condescending ass, “…not safe to keep me company.”

Tia frowned, and I realized that this may sound to her as if I was trying to get rid of her (now that I don’t need her phone or her subway pass) – and I added quickly,  frantically waving my hands, trying to convince her otherwise.

“Tia, I’m not trying to get rid of you! I just don’t know what’s happening, and who wants me dead, and why…” – here I wasn’t entirely honest, because I had a partial answer to the “why” question: rigging a surveillance camera near an object concealed using a supposedly non-existent technology, and then chasing that object’s minder, may have something to do with that. All this was too complicated to explain at the moment. “…but whatever is happening – it’s definitely not good!” –  a very profound thought, indeed, Captain Obvious at your service! Sometimes I can be such an idiot. “And it may not end well. Nice people don’t usually crash cars and hack trains, and it seems that they are very persistent in trying to locate me. So I think it would be safer if you stay as far from me as possible for a while. You can just walk away. And I promise to call you when it’s all over and tell you everything.”

“Are you kidding me?” – she looked at me indignantly, as at a total idiot, which actually was a fair assessment if I were to be judged by my speaking ability. Oh, we are all brilliant  intellectuals inside, if only we wouldn’t utter such banalities and empty nonsense when we open our mouths. She gesticulated excitedly at me as she spoke:

“This is the most exciting day ever! Are you suggesting I give up an adventure? Look, my life is boring. It’s OK, I’m not complaining, but aren’t most of our lives boring? Isn’t yours, I mean before this whole mess? I think boredom and apathy are the payback for all the good stuff. I mean, when you don’t have to fight for your survival and struggle with crippling problems every day – you know, illness, hunger, poverty and shit like that – you have some time on your hands and you’ve got to do something for your life to mean anything. The rest is just a routine. All people I know are bored to death! All their freaking lives revolve around their routine but when you take it away – they have nothing. They find some lame distractions and go through the motions of amusing themselves with trivial things like money, politics, sports, porn and movies. The ones that have some energy and willpower to break out – but apparently not brains – find themselves dangerous but meaningless hobbies like extreme sports or shoplifting or something. Just to feel the danger and excitement, to break the routine. Some find escape in books or drugs, others fall into depression and despair. I’m doing OK, you know, for the most part, but my life overall has been just ‘meh’ lately. Nothing interesting has happened to me in a while. But this? This is incredible! No, I’m sticking with you, well, at least for today. I’ve got a shift at work tomorrow, and will need to bail by then.”

She got a bit winded by talking so much while we were walking briskly, so she stopped talking for a moment to catch her breath. I looked at her incredulously. I mean, what she said was mostly right in my estimation, but the conclusion was ridiculous.

“Hey, believe me when I say this: I would give anything to get my routine back. You know, it’s all relative: there is such a thing as too much excitement, and not all adventures have a happy ending.”

I wondered if she realised what she was playing with. Did I? All I knew was that for the first time in my life someone relentlessly wanted to kill me. And making good progress at that so far. And that someone had the resources that were borderline impossible. Everything pointed to a government agency of some sort, maybe not even our government. CSIS or CIA or some other alphabet soup like that. Although I never thought they have so much control and would sacrifice innocent people’s lives so off-handedly. The reborn KGB could do that, if their reputation was to be believed. But the same reputation reeked of corruption and ridiculous unprofessionalism. This here was anything but unprofessional. It seemed very efficient and swift, but maybe they were getting better. Also, I was still alive, so I guess KGB was plausible.

Reasonably speaking, I should be wetting my pants now. But somehow I was not a nervous wreck I should have been. Maybe it was a force of habit: I could always compose myself and concentrate on the problem when shit happened – and only become a trembling mess when it was over. Question was, how long I can last in this crysis mode. Things were looking up though: I had Tia on my side and we were heading to a safe place, where I could relax a bit, and contemplate my problem with the help of a good friend. As long as I wasn’t alone there was hope. 

How naive I was to think that it could last…

Marc’s place was in an old brown brick apartment building full of wonderful smells of all of the exotic cuisines from distant continents. Having a newly developed allergy to all networked electronics, I have politely declined a welcoming elevator “ding”, flipped an obscene gesture passing it by (yes, I can be inconsistent when I’m tense), and chose to use the stairs instead.

While walking over to his door I sensed a bouquet of Indian and Pakistani spices, balanced by a touch of Jamaican curry sauce, a delicate but distinct whiff of pickles and sauerkraut, with a sickeningly sweet undertone of yesterday’s borscht. To top it off and to make sure my olfactory palette would be in a state of coma for quite a while, there was a nagging smell of either a distant skunk, or bad weed – I could never tell which was which. Bleh. 

I picked up my pace to reach Marc’s door and pressed the doorbell button. I could not hear any sound from inside. That was like Marc to disconnect the doorbell – he loved disconnecting things. I knocked, and was soon rewarded by the sound of approaching footsteps. The door opened.

Marc was your typical fashionable geek type, the way a cool geek protagonist looks in a Hollywood movie: smart but well-built, always in a good shape, amicable but self-assured and charismatic. I wish I looked like that. He wore neat squarish thin-framed glasses, an anachronism he said girls found cute. I’m not sure it was the glasses, but almost every time I visited him (which wasn’t that often, I admit) he had another cat-like girl at his place. All his girlfriends had something vaguely feline about them. They invariably had nice curves, long hair, moved silently and gracefully, didn’t talk much and exhibited no obvious emotions. 

Despite looking like a geek, and being a geek to some extent, Marc hated technology with passion. He considered it a necessary evil and avoided it outside of work when at all possible. He unceremoniously placed duct-tape over all cameras on devices he had to use, like his phone or laptop. He didn’t have any social media accounts, and although he had a computer he used for work, he would never use any modern technology for entertainment. If he wanted to see a movie, he went to an old movie theater where they projected movies from real film reels. All his music was on vinyl records, and naturally he didn’t have a TV set. Considering he was a network security expert, his place was one of the safest in the city for me to be.

But today he looked unsettled. “What the hell, Art?” he said accusingly, “What kind of a sick joke is that and how the hell did you manage to pull it off?” 

“Err… Marc, I’m happy to see you too. This is Tia. And I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

We entered his apartment. His oversized monitor was on the desk, showing a black background with a white text written in large white Helvetica font (which meant the author had some taste). 

I squinted at the text.

“Art, I want to help you. It is critical that you follow my instructions to the letter if you want to live.” 

  • Konstantin Medvedev
    Posted at 09:25h, 17 June Reply

    Shit. Typed a lot and pressed 54% without saving the result. This framework should be more advanced to warm me that I have unsaved text (((

    What I was trying to say.

    The monologue that starts with : ““This is the most exciting day ever!”
    It sounds unnatural to me.
    Too long for a pair that walks quickly in a noisy surrounding rushing to be safe.

    Assuming Tia had experience in person only the train stop and Art’s panic … she is too determined. She even know nothing about the artifact in the forest (Did she?).
    She sounds like doing into for a TED talk.

    I would insert the next paragraph (“She got a bit winded by talking so much”) somewhere after third line or so. And polish the monologue once again.

    The next: ““Hey, believe me when I say this: I would give anything to get my routine back. You know, it’s all relative: there is such a thing as too much excitement, and not all adventures have a happy ending.””
    Not clear who of them speaks.

    • roman
      Posted at 11:04h, 17 June Reply

      I’ll address it. BTW this happend a lot with any web forms and comments. So I use Typio Chrome extension – it saves all of this, so if your session expired or you pressed a wrong button – you can have everything back. Saved me from many episodes like this.

  • Konstantin Medvedev
    Posted at 09:31h, 17 June Reply

    When I was writing my book I made more than ten passes to reread it from cover to cover.

    Every time I gave myself time to forget what I was thinking about (everything that is assumed and left behind the scene). This allowed me to see with fresh mind and full criticism.
    I changed one word or another every pass.

    So there are a lot of activities for you for the next year or so.

    • roman
      Posted at 11:01h, 17 June Reply

      This website is a first rough edit of the book. So I expect a lot to change. So far I’m reading every chapter that’s already written once or twice before publishing, and every time I change things around, correct typos and other mistakes, and sometimes add whole paragraphs. So I’m sure there will be lots of changes later. It’s also possible that I will be translating / rewriting this book to Russian when I’m done witht he English original. That’s a whole new project, if I don’t get tired of this one.

  • alexanderivanov3897
    Posted at 15:08h, 25 June Reply

    Movie theaters are moving from film projectors to digital ones, I suppose it will be not easy to find old type cinemas even in close future.

    • roman
      Posted at 15:42h, 25 June Reply

      True, but the small butique movie theaters that sceen old movies with film projectors are already appearing. They will exist for the fans of the old movies and the experience.

  • Garvey
    Posted at 14:26h, 26 June Reply

    At first sight Tia’s monologue seemed too complicated to me; I would imagine that the same thoughts would be presented in much shorter way, without attempts to explain. Something like “Are you kidding? Finally I’ve got something exciting in my boring life and you suggest me to miss it?”
    But then I realized that this kind of monologue is possible. With two conditions: the person should have a good education; and those thoughts should be on the mind for a long time.

    • roman
      Posted at 16:59h, 26 June Reply

      You will find out later that indeed they were…

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