The Before Short Story Series. Part 1 - Иван Перепелятник Страница 54

Irkutsk news: Alexey Petrovich, do you maybe happen to know why the cell in which your order was stored didn’t open? Might the lock mechanism be broken?

Alexey Petrovich: Well no. What can I know. They seem to have said later, when the courier delivered my order to me, that there was a problem with the program. There was something wrong with it. That’s how I got it.

Irkutsk news: Alexey Petrovich, thank you for your answers. And wish your daughter a happy birthday from us!

All the details of this seemingly unremarkable story, as told by Alexey Petrovich, have been transferred to the PAX security service, which will now carefully investigate the situation. We will keep you, dear readers of the Irkutsk News, informed of its development as new details become available to our editorial staff."

‘Well, why do you say it’s interesting, Gleb?’ Olga asked.

‘What do you mean, why! This is the very story for prime news. It will attract attention!’ Gleb retorted excitedly. ‘Don't you see that!?

‘What? A report about a guy who failed to pick up his order from the post office? Gleb, what’s going on with you?’ Tonya looked at him in surprise. ‘It's better to shoot videos about Murzik and the rescued micae! And then, there will be a better feedback altogether!’

‘Yes, damn it … Well, you… what does the man have to do with it, Tonya!’ Gleb answered calmly with deliberation. ‘It's about the passport, about the Tracker, about what it means for a person of today! About what it means to be outside the system, the world! That's what we have to make our next video about! And it will definitely be an interesting story!’

‘If I understand your idea correctly,’ Olga went on, wrinkling her forehead a little, ‘you are suggesting that we meet with divergents!? So what is it?’

‘Bingo!!’ Gleb exclaimed even too loudly.

The visitors of the cafe turned in surprise to the table, at which a tense discussion of the teenagers was going on. A slim guy sitting opposite the two girls at the table turned slowly and looked in the cafe hall. ‘Excuse me’, Gleb muttered.

The waiter came to the table. ‘Do you guys want to order anything else? You've been sitting here for more than an hour and still drinking two bottles of Cola. I don't mind. You are welcome. But there are people standing out there, waiting for the seats to be vacated. So, will there be anything else to order?’

‘No, thank you very much. We are just about to leave’. Getting up from the sagging sofa, Olga answered.

Everyone started collecting their belongings. It was already quite dark outside.

‘It's been snowing! That's so beautiful! Everything is clean and white around!’ Gleb spoke in a slightly singsong voice.

‘It's just a little cold somehow. Brr …' Huddled in an oversized full-length down jacket, Tonya muttered, wrapped as well in a scarf that covered her face almost to the eyes. ‘I want to go home.’

‘Okay. Let's do it. I'll think over all the details of the script tonight, forward it to you, and tomorrow, right after class, we'll discuss everything again.’ Gleb suggested.

‘I am for. We'll discuss everything tomorrow. Bye!’ Olga began saying goodbye.—I hope you're not serious about Cheremkhovo, Gleb. This story about an old abandoned mine and its weird inhabitants may end badly.’

‘Well, let's think over everything and make sure that all goes according to our plan, so that everything is OK! Well, all right, bye!’ Gleb turned around and, making sure that he had time to cross the roadway between the stream of cars, ran across to the other side of the street.

‘I don’t know, Tonya, somehow this whole idea looks somewhat … It’s simply dangerous’. Staring after Gleb, Olga

noted.

‘Look, I agree, Olga. But, on the other hand, we will never be able to achieve anything if we only do what is safe and strictly by the rules. Let's talk together again tomorrow.’

The friends hugged each other and headed in different directions.

The Client

It would seem, one could physically touch the evening energy of the city. Just reach out. Cafes and restaurants on the first line of the central streets, fashionable dress stores outshouted each other with their bright lights in an endless succession ready to lure a new buyer in. High-rise office centers and employees still, though it was so late, unwilling to give in to the will of fatigue, and the endless river of transport carried people over to friends and families, accelerating the pace every minute. Everyone after their own destination, their own purpose.

‘Tonight Irkutsk reminds me of Christmas,’ Sergey thought, sitting on a bench in a park, sipping hot tea with cognac from his small tin flask. He chose a place where no one would disturb them. And the weather was perfect for business meetings. A thick snow veil did its job—you could see the silhouettes, but nothing more. Sergey checked the weather forecast on his communicator. No changes predicted for the next two hours. “Snowfall will continue until at least midnight.”

‘Wonderful. Let's take this as a good sign,’ Sergey whispered.

He angled his left arm and slightly pressed his palm on the end of the sleeve, holding two fingers for a second, as if measuring his pulse. On his wrist, the scale for adjusting the temperature of the down jacket was barely noticeable, Sergey lightly ran his hand along it. ‘It's better this way. Too hot’.

‘Good evening. Sergey?’ A man in a gray coat and patent leather shoes, in a lush ushanka