Mission 777 Possible. Marina Sprouz

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      He waited on Cold Mountain. I saw him from afar. Tall, thin, hair slicked back with gel. He resembled air, a swift spirit that could break free and soar at any second; his voice slicing through space with a metallic tone, seemingly changeable; now cunning, now mocking, now playful, now roguish. This was the Black Sorcerer.

      What he completely lacked – I later realized: kindness, soulfulness, and truthfulness. Room in the apartment. Marianna sits on the couch. Footage appears on the black-and-white TV screen, the announcer talks about the sinking of the submarine “Kursk.”

      – What’s this? – Marianna.

      – A submarine sank – says Tall.

      Marianna continues to gaze thoughtfully at the TV screen for a long time.

      Marianna will remember this August date forever.

      Living room of the apartment. There is a single red rose in a vase on the table. It catches Marianna’s eye fleetingly and constantly.

      – Can you meditate? – Tall.

      – You have to look at one point, here, practice, look at the rose. Marianna looked at the rose. Nothing, some nonsense.

      When Round-faced appeared in the room, Marianna didn’t even notice. It probably happened in the kitchen, during a conversation with him. He sat at the same table as Marianna.

      Marianna examined Round-faced: big brown eyes, clothes like a priest’s robe, a large medallion or emblem hung on his chest on a chain, round, but not entirely, something was along the edge. Round-faced set the topic of conversation. Tall sat nearby on a chair, inserting his lines lively. Marianna sometimes remained silent, sometimes answered sporadically.

      The conversation turned to age.

      – How old are you? – Marianna to Round-faced.

      He jokingly lifted his head:

      – Maybe three hundred… or…

      – Five hundred… – Tall interjected. They glanced at each other and heard laughter.

      I got the impression that he was lying, that they were lying all the time and mocking me. (Marianna’s thoughts.)

      – Look how she sits. – Round-faced to Tall. – She holds her hands correctly.

      Marianna’s hands were turned palms up when she sat at the table. Marianna looked at her hands and understood nothing. Then Round-faced read poems. Strange, long poems. Marianna watched and struggled to grasp the meanings of this eloquence. It was about some mass that is born, lives, then dies, then this biomass goes into the ground, rots, worms eat it, and then everything is born anew; and then again this cycle. You even think that such poems could not be composed by an ordinary person.

      Some pictures appeared on the table, Tall showed me a drawing, a man’s face on it.

      – Who is this? – he asked me.

      – And this? – he showed another.

      I squinted, “I don’t know…” I replied.

      The conversation with Round-faced apparently was not over, I do not know why, but he began to talk about Christ.

      – Jesus is a traitor, he betrayed people, he could have saved them. – said Round-faced, addressing me, his face serious.

      Marianna was silent, she just didn’t know the right answer, never thought about it and didn’t think to think. There were actually many answers: maybe people were not ready for change, maybe the time had not yet come.

      The whole meeting took place as if in a light mist, and why they are talking about Christ now never even crossed Marianna’s mind.

      For some reason, I found myself in a distant small room with Round-faced. He was playing a tape for me, like on a tape recorder, periodically stopping, looking at me and asking:

      – Do you hear? Do you hear?

      I had a hard time understanding what was there… sounds were coming through, snippets of voices, and even music, but quietly.

      Paused for a bit… a song: “White roses, white roses…” – I heard Shatunov’s voice.

      – Recognize it? – Round-faced.

      I’ve always loved “Gentle May,” it’s a song from my childhood. Suddenly, the tape stopped, it ended.

      – That’s it, – said Round-faced.

      – We need to perform a ritual – declared Tall, and Marianna found herself in another room with Tall, while Round-faced vanished somewhere.

      Tall prepared some nonsense apparently for the ritual: a mirror, a bowl of water, a little candle. He filled the room with smoke.

      My face was painted, smeared with black strokes, soot or marker. It resembled the face of an Indian or a warrior preparing, camouflaging before entering battle.

      – Here, look, – and Tall led me to the mirror in the bathroom.

      I examined СКАЧАТЬ