to fall down if it shifts... Aha, and I was just thinking -- why do you have this mirror on the wall. And you're going to put another one on the table. Wow, that's a thick candle... From whose fat? Ha-ha-ha, that's a joke again, right, comrade colonel... Amazing. First time I see something like that, honest. I only read in books that you could do that, but never seen it for myself. Mind-boggling. Like a corridor. Where? Into this one? Jesus Christ, how many of those mirrors you have here - a regular barbershop. No, of course not, comrade colonel... Never had. It's just a saying, I picked it up from my grandma. I am a devoted atheist, or I wouldn't have gone to the flight academy... I remember, but very roughly. I was already eleven by the time we moved to Moscow; I was born in that small town -- you know, it just sits there by the rail line, a train comes by every couple of days and that's all. It's quiet. The streets are dirty, geese walk around. Many drunks. And everything is just so gray -- doesn't matter if it's summer or winter. Two factories, a movie theater. Well, there's also the park -- but you understand, no one in his right mind would show his face there. And then, you know, something rumbles above, so you just look to the sky. Well, what's there to explain... And I also read books all the time, I owe to them everything that is good in me(61). My most favorite was, of course, "The Andromeda Nebula"(62). Very big influence on me, that book had. Imagine, this Iron Star... And on that very black planet there's our cheerful Soviet starship with a swimming pool, a spot of blue light around it, and where the light ends -- adversary life forms, they are afraid of light and can live only in darkness. Some kind of jellyfish, I didn't quite understand that part, and also the Black Cross -- I guess he was making a dig at the clergy there. This Black Cross was there, he was stalking in the darkness, and where the blue light is the people are working, mining for anameson. And then this Black Cross like shoots something mysterious at them! It was aiming for Erg Noor himself, but brave Nisa Krit shielded him with her body. And then our guys really got back at them, like revenge -- a nuclear blast from there to the horizon, they saved Nisa Krit, and they caught the principal jellyfish, and back to Moscow. I was reading it and thinking -- how do people work in our embassies abroad! A very good book. And there's another one I remember. They had some kind of black cave there or something... - ... - No, the cave was afterwards, and it was not a cave, more like corridors. Very low corridors, and ceiling all covered with soot from torches. The warriors always walked with torches at night, protecting his highness the prince. From Accadians, they said. But really they were protecting him from his brother, of course... You, sir Master of the Northern Tower, please forgive me if I said something wrong, but everybody thinks that -- warriors and serfs, both. You may order my tongue cut out, but still everyone would tell you the same. The Queen Shubad herself posted this squadron there, against Meskalamdug. Every time he rides by on his way to the hunt, he always passes the Southern Wall, and those two hundred warriors with him in copper helmets -- what's that for, fighting lions? Everybody's talking about it... What do you mean? What's with you, sir Master of the Northern Tower, were you chewing too much five-leaf again? I am Ninhursag, Arrata's priest and carver of seals. I mean, I'm going to be carver of seals when I grow up, I am still little... come on, why are you writing, you must know who I am. You gave me that bridle with copper figuring. You don't remember? Why... Wait... So we're sitting with Namtura -- you know, the one with his ears lopped off, he was teaching me to carve triangles. This is the hardest one for me. You have to make two deep cuts, and then from the third side you just dig with a broad chisel, and... Right, so then somebody from the outside tears away the curtain, and so brazenly -- so we look up, and those two warriors are standing there. Rejoice, they say, with the great joy! Our prince is prince no more, but King Abarraggi! Just embarked on his way to the Goddess Nanna, so naturally, we have to be going too. Namtura is crying -- from happiness, I guess, singing something in Accadian, and starts gathering his rags in a big bundle. And I went out into the yard right away, only told Namtura to pick up the chisels. And in the yard -- Urshu Victorious! -- all those warriors, and with torches, like broad daylight... No, not at all, sir Master of the Northern Tower! Of course not. It's what Namtura is mumbling all the time... Never had, and I never brought sacrifices either. Don't. I am the nunn of the great King Abarraggi now, you can't just cut my ears off all of a sudden, you need a royal decree for that... Apology accepted. Right, so the chariots with bulls were ready. Here's when sir Master of the Locks came to me -- here, Ninhursag, he said, take this dagger made from the government bronze, you are an adult now. And also he gave me a small sack of barley meal -- you cook that along the way, he said. So I look around and I see those, in the copper helmets, walking around. So I think: Urshu the Great! I mean, Anu the Great! This must mean that Meskalamdug finally buried the hatchet with Abarraggi... Wise decision, I thought, you don't quarrel with the King -- not when his every word is Anu. And then they showed me to my chariot, so I climb into it. There was also this boy standing there -- he was directing the bulls. I never saw him before. I only remember that he had the turquoise necklace, very expensive. And the dagger tucked under his belt -- must have just gotten it too. So, I looked back at the fortress, and I got a little sad and stuff. But then the clouds parted, and in the clearing the Moon just burst out... I felt so happy and light right away... So then they push away this stone slab near the stables -- and there's the entrance into the caves. I never knew there was a cave there. Really I didn't... Why, may I never distinguish myself in battle! That was you, wasn't it? Now I remember. So right there you, sir Master of the Northern Tower, approached us with two goblets of beer, and you said -- here, from Meskalamdug, the king's brother. And the same skirt you were wearing as now, only you had the copper helmet on your head. So, we drank. I never drank beer before that, ever. Then the second boy shouted something, and we drove ahead -- right into a crack in the cliff. I remember the road was descending, and around me -- I didn't see a thing, it was so dark... Afterwards? Afterwards I found myself here in the tower. That's from beer, isn't it?.. Are they going to punish me now? Put in a word for me, sir Master of the Northern Tower. Tell them how it was. Or just pass them the tablets, now that you wrote everything down. Of course I have it with me... No, I'm not going to give it to you. I'll affix it myself. Nobody better lay a hand on my seal, by U... Anu the Great. Here. You like it, don't you? I made it myself. Third time a charm. This is god Marduk. What do you mean -- "fence", those are the Elder Gods standing. Please help me, sir Master of the Northern Tower! I will carve three seals for you, I will. No, I'm not crying... There, I won't anymore. Thank you. You are truly wise and mighty man, I say this with all my heart. Please don't tell anyone I cried... They'd say: what kind of Arrata's priest is he -- let him drink a little beer and he's ready to cry... Of course I want to. Where? From the South or North? ‘Cause you have this wall all covered in mirrors here. I see... Sure I know that. That was when Ninlil went to the clear stream to bathe herself, and then she stepped out to the shore. Her mother would tell her again and again, but she went just the same, so she's stepping onto the shore, see, and that's when Enlil knocked her up. So then he comes to the city of Kiur, but the Council of Gods says to him -- Enlil, you rapist, away from the city with you! But Ninlil, she went after him, sure thing... No, not blinding at all. The other two? That was after, once when Enlil turned into watchman near the crossing, and then when Nanna was already in Ninlil's womb... - ... - And then, those two are just different manifestations of the same. You can say thus: Hecate is the dark and mysterious side, while Selena -- light and wondrous. I must admit I am off my horse here -- just heard a couple of things here and there in Athens... Sure, sure I've been to Athens. Under Domician that was. I was hiding there. Or we wouldn't be talking right now, Abbas Senator, we wouldn't be riding in this palanquin of yours... Impugning the royal name, what else. Presumably I said that the master has a statue of the princeps in his yard, and that they went and buried two slaves nearby. But he never had any statue in the first place. Even under Nerva we were still apprehensive about returning. But with our current princeps there's nothing to worry about. He sent to us Plinius Secundus himself to be the Legate -- these are the times that we live in, glory be to Isis and Serapis! Not for... No, not at all, Abbas Senator, by Hercules! This I picked up in Athens, they have Egyptians there now like you won't believe... What interesting tablets you have, one almost can't see the wax. And these lions' muzzles -- are they made of electron? Corinthian bronze, you don't say... First time I see that... Sextius Rufinus. No, of freed slaves. Here's the nice thing about palanquins -- when the slaves are skilled, of course -- you can ride and write. And the light is shining just like in a room, the pines passing by... It's like you look inside my soul, Abbas Senator. Constantly within myself I compose them. Not in the Marcial's order, I am afraid - just dulling the stylos... Songs I sing with brief verse, like Catullus was singing, and before him Calbus and ancients. What do I care! I have left the Forum in favor of verses... Of course I am exaggerating, Abbas Senator. These are verses, after all. As a matter of fact, that's why I was brought along with the Christians' case -- because of literature. Just wanted to look at our Legate. A great man, he is... Well, not exactly as a witness. No, I wrote it like it was -- that Maximus, he really was from Galilee. They'd assemble at his place at night, inhale some kind of smoke. And then he clambers up to the roof wearing only his caligae, and cries like a cockerel -- one look at that, and I knew right away they must have been Christians... Well, about the bats I embellished a little, I admit. So what? The gladiator school was already crying for them anyway. And that Legate I liked very much. Right... He invited me to the table, listened to my poems. Praised me lavishly. And then he says -- why don't you, Sextius, come to dinner. When the Moon is full. I will send for you, he says... And he did send, he really did. I gathered all the cartouches with the poems -- what if, I thought, he'd send me to Rome? I put on my best cloak... How could I wear a toga -- I don't have the citizenship. So then we're riding, and out of the city for some reason. For a long time we were riding, I even dozed off in the chariot. I wake up, look around -- a villa, or a temple, or something like that, and people with torches. So, you see, we go inside -- through the house and into the garden. And they already have tables set there, right under the skies, and the Moon is shining. Such a large Moon it was that night. And the slaves say to me -- sir Legate will be right out, why don't you lie beside the table, drink some wine. This is your place, under that marble lamb. Well, I lie down, and I drink, - and then I notice everyone around is looking at me funny... And not a word. What was it, I'm thinking, that the Legate must have told them about my poems... I got chills even, honest. But then two harps started playing behind the screen, and I became so cheerful all of a sudden -- simply amazing. I don't even remember how I ended up dancing around... And then they brought out the flaming tripods, and then those people in yellow chitons... They weren't quite themselves, if you know what I mean -- they sit, and sit some more, and then extend their hands toward the Moon and start chanting something in Greek... No, I couldn't make it out -- I was dancing, making merry. And then sir Legate shows up -- he had the Phrygian helmet on for some reason, with a silver disk, and a flute in his hand. Eyes gleaming. He poured me more wine. Those are some good poems that you're writing, Sextius, he says to me. Then he started talking about the Moon -- exactly like you just did, Abbas Senator. Now wait a minute, you have been there too, haven't you? Right. Ha-ha, and all this time I'm thinking -- why is it we're traveling in your palanquin. But how... You have your toga on now, sure, but then you were dressed in a chiton, and Thracian helmet, just like the Legate. Yeah, and that red spear you were holding, with the horsetail. I was really uncomfortable turning my back to you. But Legate kept saying -- here, Sextius, why don't you look at Hecate, he says, and I will play the flute for you. And he started playing -- really softly. So I looked up, and I was looking -- and then you are asking me about Hecate and Selena. When did I manage to climb into your palanquin? Is everything all right? Well, glory be to I... Hercules. Apollo and Hercules. That's fine, I brought them with me, for Legate to read. And you, Abbas Senator, dabbling in literature also? That's why you have been writing and writing all this time. A-a. As a keepsake. So you liked the poems too. This hour is for you -- it walks like Leah, and rose is reigning over hair so fragrant. Of course. I can even affix my gemma. That's all right, the cutting is not that deep, it does not require a lot of wax. It'll print through. Are we almost there? Why thank you, Abbas Senator, my hair does seem to be a little messed up. And how much does a mirror like that cost in the Metropolia? You don't say, this kind of money would buy you a house around our place in Viphinia. Is this Corinthian bronze as well? Silver? And some kind of inscription... - ... I can make it out. There... To Lieutenant Wolf, for the Western Prussia. General Lüdendorf. Begging your pardon, brigadenfuehrer, it just opened by itself. An amazing cigarette box, shining like a mirror. So you were already lieutenant in '15? Air Force, too? Please don't, brigadenfuehrer, you are making me uneasy. Because of those three crosses I'm not even allowed to fly sorties anymore. There are lots of Yak's and MiG's in this world, they say, but only one Vogel Von Richthofen. If not for that special mission, I'd probably be covered in mold now, alone in the empty barracks... Yes, like "bird". My mother was upset at first when she found out how my father was planning to name me. But Baldur Von Schirach -- they were friends with my father -- even dedicated an entire poem to me. They study it in schools now... Careful -- they're shooting from that window... No, the wall is thick enough... I can only imagine what he'd write if he knew about the special mission. This was something else entirely. I really bought into that transfer to the Western front business, only found out in Berlin what it was. First off, I got upset, naturally. I thought: don't they have anything better to do in "Ahnenerbe" -- recalling combat pilots from the front... But when I saw that plane -- Holy Virgin Mary! Right away... No, not at all, brigadenfuehrer, I just lived in Italy when I was a kid. Right. Never in all my years of flying I've seen such beauty. It was only later that I figured out it was actually Me-109, only different engine and wings a little longer... Damn, the ammo belt jammed... No, it's all right, I'll manage... So, I walked into the hangar and just stood there breathless. So white, so light -- like it was glowing in the dark. But what was most amazing -- the preparation. I thought I'd be studying hardware, and instead they took me to you guys in "Ahnenerbe", measured the skull, Wagner playing all along, and don't bother asking questions -- everyone's silent. In short, when that night they woke me up I thought it was skull measuring time again. Then I look out -- no, these two Mercedes are standing behind the window, engines working... Great shot, brigadenfuehrer! Right under the turret. How come you're so good with this thing... So we get in, we ride. Then... Yes, it was cordoned off, SS guys with torches. We pass them, then we get out of the forest, then some kind of building with columns and an airport. Not a soul in sight, gentle breeze -- and the Moon in the sky. I thought I knew all air fields around Berlin, but I never saw that one. And there's my plane, right on the runway, something attached under the fuselage, also white, kind of like a bomb. But they didn't even let me stand near it, whisked into that building right away... No, I don't recall really. Only remember that Wagner was playing. They ordered me to disrobe, then bathed me like I was a baby... No, no, save the grenades for later... Rubbed my skin with oil -- you know, smells of something ancient, very pleasant. And they gave me the flight uniform, except it was all white. And all my awards right there on the breast. Well, Vogel, I thought, this is it... I was dreaming all my life about something like that. Then those, from "Ahnenerbe", say to me: go on, captain, go to your plane. They will tell you everything there. Took turns shaking my hand. So I went. Even the boots were white, I was afraid to step in the dust... just a moment. So I go up to the plane, and there... Wait a minute, if it wasn't you, brigadenfuehrer, only not in this steel helmet but in some kind of black cap... So you begin to explain it to me -- climb to eleven thousand, bearing on the Moon, the button is on the left panel... Damn. Just missed it... And that white pad you gave me, and then coffee with cognac from the thermos. I am saying -- no, I never drink before the flight, and you looked at me sternly -- do you have any idea, Vogel, who this coffee is from? So then I turn around and see -- I'd never believe that... Right. Just like in newsreels, and the suit is the same, double-breasted. Only with a cap on his head, and binoculars around his neck. And mustache a little wider than they draw on the portraits. Or it only seemed that way because of moonlight. He waved at me, like at a stadium or something... Anyway, so I drank the coffee, got into the plane, put my oxygen mask on right away and took off. And it became so easy all of a sudden -- like I was breathing with two breasts instead of one. I climbed to eleven, bearing on the Moon -- it was huge that night, half the sky, and then I looked down. It was all greenish down there, some river glistening... That's where I pressed the button. The plane started veering to the right, how I got down -- I don't even know... Sign it? You also scribble something for me -- just to remember you by. Thank you... Did many of them manage to get through to Berlin? Sure, that I understand... Nothing major, just the brick fragments, I guess. The bridge of the nose is intact... Right, I told you nothing major, I can see it now. This cigarette box -- you can shave looking into that thing, no mirror needed... - ... - No, I don't need it anymore; I didn't even ask for it in the first place. You put it here yourself, comrade colonel, just after you lit that candle... What was later -- I read the books, then I made a telescope for myself, a small one. I mostly studied the Moon. I even remember I went as lunokhod to the school matinee party once... I remember that evening like it was yesterday... No, evening, all matinees were in the evening then, and Saturday was exchanged with Monday that time(63)... All our guys assembled in the hall -- they all had those simple costumes, you know, so they could dance. And I had this thing on -- get down on all fours and it really looked like lunokhod. Music is blaring, everybody's so flushed... I stood there by the door for a while, and then just went walking around the empty school building. The corridors are all dark, nobody's there... So I crawl towards a window, on all fours, and right behind it in the sky -- this Moon, it was not even yellow, rather green somehow, like on that picture, you know? I have a poster over my cot, from the "Working Woman". This is where I gave myself a word that I was going to get to the Moon... Ha-ha-ha... Well, if you, comrade colonel, are going to do your best, that means I will get there for sure... Afterwards? Zaraisk Academy, right after high school, and then here right away... You received it? Yes, comrade colonel, I know, it's always better when it's informal like that, on a human level. Right here? Is it all right that the ink is blue? Exactly. The simpler the soul, the shorter the protocol... Thank you. Raspberry, if I could. Where do you get these carbonation charges, for the siphon? On the other hand... Comrade colonel, may I ask you one question? Is it true that all the lunar soil ends up here with you? I don't remember really, one of our guys, I guess... Of course I'd like to, I only saw it on TV... Wow... How much does this jar hold? Ten ounces or so? Could I really? Thank you... Thank you so much... Just give me another tissue, to make sure... Thank you. Sure I remember. To the right, through the corridor, to the elevators, and then down. I won't make it by myself? Still under the influence? So you just see me along, then... Woo... No, never. The new uniform? No, I like it, why? We already had caps in the army once -- the Budyonny hats(64). Looks good, but a little unusual -- no bill, and the badge is round... No, I didn't forget... What do you mean -- to the left? Why the torch? Couldn't the electrician... oh yeah, the secret access. A little light here, the stairs are really steep... Almost like our lunar landing module. Comrade colonel, that's a dead en... There was a loud click and two voices, one male and one female, belted out in unison: - ...on their lips. The song to this day can be heard in the depths... A short pause followed. - Of grasslands so fresh, -- the woman sang half-inquisitively. - Malachite of the steppes(65), -- reaffirmed the rich baritone. I switched the recorder off. I was very scared. I recalled the colonel in the black cassock with the whistle and chronometer around his neck. Nobody was asking Mityok any questions; that to which he was giving answers was just soft whistling noise interrupting his soliloquy from time to time. 11 Nobody asked me about Mityok. Truth be told, he wasn't friends with anyone except myself, only played homemade cards with Otto from time to time. His cot was already taken out from our dorm, and now only the posters from "Working Woman" with pictures of "Moonlit Night over Dnieper" and "Khan Baikonur" were left as a reminder that there was once someone named Mityok living in our world. At the lessons everyone was trying to look like nothing happened, colonel Urchagin being especially perky and friendly. In the meantime our small squadron, not noticing the loss of the soldier as it were, was about to sing its "Little Apple" to the end. No one was talking about it directly, but it was clear -- the flight is around the corner. The mission chief met with us a couple of times, telling us how he was fighting in Kovpak's battalion(66) during the war, we all had our pictures taken -- one by one at first, and then all together, and then with the teaching staff in front of the banner. Then we started to meet more new cadets, they were training separately from us, I didn't know exactly what for -- there was some talk about an automated probe to Alpha Microcephalos right after our mission but I wasn't completely sure that the new guys were in fact the crew of that probe. One evening in early September I was suddenly called before the mission chief. He wasn't in his office and the adjutant in the waiting room, idly flipping through pages of an old issue of Newsweek, told me he was in three twenty nine. From behind the door with the number "329" I could hear voices and something that sounded like laughter. I knocked, but no one answered. I knocked one more time and turned the handle. A wide strip of tobacco smoke was hanging under the ceiling, reminding me for some reason of the jet trail in the summer sky over Zaraisk Academy. Strapped with his hands and legs to the metal chair in the middle of the room was a small Japanese man -- that he was Japanese I figured from the little red circle inside a white rectangle on the sleeve of his flight suit. His lips were swollen and blue in color, one eye turned into a narrow slit in the middle of massive purple haematoma, the flight suit was splattered with blood -- some fresh, some brown and caked over. In front of the Japanese I saw Landratov in shiny high boots and dress uniform of an Air Force Lieutenant. By the window, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a short young man in civilian clothes was standing. The mission chief was sitting in the corner behind the desk -- he was looking at the Japanese absentmindedly, tapping against the desk with the end of his pencil. - Comrade mission chief, -- I started, but he waved his hand at me and began collecting the papers strewn across the desk into a folder. I transferred my gaze to Landratov. - Hi, - he said, offering me his wide palm, and then all of a sudden, absolutely unexpectedly for me, kicked the Japanese as hard as he could in the stomach with his boot. The Japanese gasped. - This bastard here doesn't want to be on the joint crew! -- said Landratov, his eyes wide with amazement, throwing his arms up, and rattled out on the floor a short tap sequence with double slap on the boots, his feet turning unnaturally outward. - As you were, Landratov! -- the mission chief burbled getting out from behind the desk. From the corner of the room I heard a soft whine filled with definite hatred; I looked there and saw a dog, sitting on its hind legs before a navy blue plate with a rocket printed on it. It was a very old husky, her eyes were completely red, but what startled me was not her eyes but the small light green uniform top covering her upper body, with the shoulder patches of major-general and two Orders of Lenin on the breast. - Meet Comrade Laika(67), - said the mission chief catching my stare. -- She's the first Soviet cosmonaut. By the way, her parents are our colleagues. Worked in the Organs(68), in the North. Mission chief produced a small flask of cognac, which he proceeded to pour onto the plate. Laika made a feeble attempt to nip him in the hand, missed it and started whining again. - She's quite vigorous, isn't she? -- the mission chief said with a smile. -- But what she shouldn't have done is pee all over the place. Landratov, why don't you go bring a rag. Landratov went out. - Yoy o tenki ni narimashita ne, - said the Japanese, unsticking his lips. - Hana wa sakuragi, hito wa fujiwara. The mission chief turned quizzically to the young man at the window. - He's just delirious, comrade lieutenant-general, - the young man replied. The mission chief picked the folder off the desk. - Let's go, Omon. We ventured out into the corridor, and he put his hand over my shoulders. Landratov, rag in hand, passed us by and winked at me, closing the door into the three twenty nine behind him. - That Landratov, he's still green, - said the mission chief contemplatively, - hadn't settled yet. But an outstanding pilot. A born pilot. We walked several yards in silence. - So, Omon, - said the mission chief, - Baikonur the day after tomorrow. This is it. I have been waiting for these words for some months now, but still the sensation was of a heavy snowball, with a steel nut inside, jamming into my solar plexus. - Your call letters are going to be "Ra", as you requested. It was hard, - the mission chief jabbed his finger up into the air, - but we pushed it through. Only not a word about it there, - he pointed down, - not yet. I didn't remember ever having requested anything of the sort. At the final testing on the rocket mock-up I was just an observer -- other guys were passing the exams, and I was sitting on the bench by the wall watching. I've passed my test a week before, making the fully loaded lunokhod turn a hundred yard long figure eight inside six minutes. The guys made their time precisely, and then they had us all standing in formation in front of the mock-up for the farewell photo shoot. I never saw the actual picture, but I can imagine perfectly how it turned out: Syoma Anikin in front, his face and hands still bearing the traces of motor oil, behind him -- Ivan Grechka, leaning onto an aluminium walker (his stumps ached from time to time because of all the underground dampness), in a long mutton overcoat, an undone oxygen mask hanging low around his neck, then -- Otto Pluzis, in the silver spacesuit padded for warmth with a woolen blanket with a merry yellow duckling print, his helmet was drawn back resembling a hood stiffened by interstellar frost. Then Dima Matyushevich in a similar spacesuit, only the patches of blanket were simply green-striped, not with ducklings, and then I, the last of the crew, in the cadet uniform. Behind me, in the electric wheelchair of his -- colonel Urchagin, and mission chief to the left of him. - And now, according to tradition which had turned into a good custom, - the mission chief said when the photographer was done, - we are going to come up for a few minutes to the Red Square(69). We walked across the large hall and paused by the small steel door -- to cast the last look on the rocket, exactly like the one on which we were destined to soar into the sky soon. Then the mission chief opened that little hole in the wall with a key from his ring and we started along the corridor I've never ventured to before. We were weaving for a long time between stone walls with thick multicolored cables snaking their way along them, several times the corridor turned sharply, the ceiling coming down so low now and again that we had to bend under. Once I spotted a shallow niche in the wall with wilted flowers in it, a small memorial plaque was hanging nearby, "Here in 1923 comrade Serob Nalbandyan was viciously murdered with a shovel" inscribed on it. Then a red carpeted strip appeared under our feet, the corridor widened and then ended with a stairwell(70). The stairwell was very long, by its side there was an incline with narrow flights of steps in the middle -- just like for strollers in the underground passages. I figured why they made it like that when I saw the mission chief rolling the wheelchair with colonel Urchagin up the incline. When he got winded Urchagin would pull the hand brake and they froze in place, so the others didn't need to climb too fast, especially considering that Ivan always had problems with long stairs. Finally we ascended to the massive oak doors with state seals carved into them, the mission chief unlocked them with his key, but the door halves saturated with dampness only gave way when I pushed against them with my shoulder. We were blinded by sunlight, someone shielded his eyes with a hand, others turned away -- only Urchagin was sitting calmly, with the routine half-smile on his face. Once we got accustomed to the light it turned out we were facing the gray crypts of the Kremlin wall(71) and I realized we must have gone through the back door of the Mausoleum(72). I haven't seen the open sky for such a long time that my head was spinning. - All cosmonauts, - the mission chief spoke softly, - all of them, no matter how many there were, came before the flight here, to the stones and stands that are sacred to every Soviet person, to take a fragment of this place in their hearts with them to space. Immensely long and arduous was the journey that our country went through -- we started with machine guns mounted on horse-drawn carriages, and now you guys are working with the most sophisticated automatic technology, - he paused and looked us over with a cold unblinking stare, - that our Motherland had entrusted into your hands, which Bamlag Ivanovich and I explained to you in our lectures. I am confident that in this, your last walk on the surface of our Motherland, you will carry away some remembrance of the Red Square with you, even though I cannot know what it will turn out to be for each of you... We were standing silently on the surface of our dear old planet. It was late in the day, the sky was getting slightly overcast, the bluish firs were waving their branches in the wind. We smelled some kind of flowers. The clock tower started chiming five, mission chief adjusted the hands on his watch and told us we still had a couple of minutes. We went out onto the steps in front of the Mausoleum. There wasn't anyone on the entire square if you didn't count two just changed honor guards, who never acknowledged they have seen us at all, and three mysterious long coats walking away in the direction of the clock tower. I looked around, trying to soak in everything I was seeing and feeling at this moment -- the graying walls of the State Department Store, the empty "fruit market" of the St. Basil's, Lenin's Mausoleum, the red-bannered green copper dome barely discernible over the wall, the fronton of the Museum of History(73) and the leaden sky, hanging low and looking away from the Earth, quite probably unaware of the steel penis of the Soviet rocket about to penetrate it. - It's time, -- said the mission chief. Our guys filed slowly back behind the Mausoleum. A minute later only colonel Urchagin and I were left under the "LENIN" inscription. The mission chief looked at his watch and coughed, but Urchagin said: - One moment, comrade lieutenant-general. I'd like to have a word with Omon. The mission chief nodded and disappeared behind the polished granite corner. - Come here, my boy, - said the colonel. I came there. The first drops of rain, heavy and sparse, fell onto the stones of the Red Square. Urchagin grasped for something in the air, I stretched out my hand. He took it, pressed it slightly and jerked me towards him. I bent over and he started whispering in my ear. I was listening to him and looking at the way the steps were darkening in front of his wheelchair. Comrade Urchagin must have been talking for two minutes, making long pauses. After falling silent he pressed my palm once more and took his hand away. - Now go, join the others, - he said. I made a movement in the direction of the hatch but stopped. - And you? The raindrops were quickening all around us. - That's all right, - he said, producing an umbrella from a sheath resembling a holster, attached to the side of his chair. - I'll take a little spin here. This is what I brought with me from the Red Square falling slowly into the night -- the darkened stone pavement and the slim figure in the old uniform top, sitting in the wheelchair trying to open the stubborn black umbrella. The dinner was not particularly tasty -- soup with small star-shaped noodles, boiled chicken with rice and stewed dried fruits for desert; usually after drinking the liquid I would eat up all the squishy fruit morsels, but this time I only ate the wrinkled bitter pear, then felt sick all of a sudden and pushed the plate away. 12 I was floating on one of those water bicycles though thick reeds, with enormous telegraph poles sticking out of them, the bicycle was unusual -- not the one with the pedals in front of the seat; it seemed to have been converted from the real ground bicycle, between the two long fat floats they installed the frame with the word "Sport" written on it. It was absolutely unclear where all those reeds came from, and the water bicycle, and even I myself. But I didn't care about that. It was so beautiful around me that all I wanted to do was float farther and farther, and look about, and I guess I wouldn't have even thought of wanting anything else for a long time. The most beautiful thing was the sky -- slender long purple clouds hung over the horizon, resembling a wing of strategic bombers in formation. It was warm, and the water splashed a little against the paddles, and an echo of a distant thunder rumbled in the west. Then I figured it was not thunder after all. At regular intervals something within of me, or maybe outside of me, started to shake so hard my ears were ringing. After every blow the surroundings -- the river, the reeds, the sky above -- looked more and more worn out. The world was becoming familiar down to the smallest detail, like that bathroom wall you have been staring at while sitting on the toilet, and it was happening fast, until I suddenly realized that my bicycle and I were not among reeds, or on the water, or even under the sky, but instead inside a translucent sphere which separated me from everything else. Each blow made the walls of the sphere harder and thicker, less and less light penetrated through them, finally it got very dark. When the sky over my head was replaced by a ceiling, a dim electric bulb turned itself on, walls began mutating, changing shape, drawing closer, twisting and forming some kind of shelves, crowded with glasses, tin cans and who knows what else. This is where the rhythmic convulsions of the world became that which it was from the very beginning -- a ringing telephone. I was inside the lunokhod, sitting in the saddle, clutching at the handlebars and bent down to the frame. I was wearing the flight coat, fur hat with earflaps and fur boots, the oxygen mask wrapped around my neck like a scarf. The green box of the telephone screwed onto the floor was ringing off the hook. I lifted the receiver. - Fuck you, you shit-faced fag! -- the monstrous bass in my ear exploded with tortured desperation. -- What are you doing there, jerking off? - Who's this? - Chief of Flight Control Center colonel Halmuradov. You awake? - What? - Suck my dick, that's what! One minute countdown! - One minute countdown, affirmative! -- I screamed back, biting my lip in horror, bloodying it, and grabbed the handlebars again with my free hand. - As-s-s-hole, - the receiver exhaled, and then I caught indecipherable snippets of conversation -- I guess the person who was just yelling at me was now talking to someone else, holding the microphone away from his face. Then something beeped in the receiver and I heard a different voice, talking in a detached and mechanical fashion, but still with a thick Ukrainian accent: - Fifty nine... fifty eight... fifty se-wen... I was in that state of profound guilt and shock when people start moaning loudly, or shout dirty words; the thought that I almost caused something irreparable to happen ob