Chapter Eleventh

— I suppose you’ll have no trouble finding me if you have any problems with coin transfer, — i said to finish small talk that was taking way too much time.

— And you’ll have no trouble contacting me if you have any more questions on the job, — Blue replied.

— I’m sure that won’t be necessary. Now if you would excuse me, i have some other business to attend.

— It was a pleasure to work with you.

And after a few more lines of annoyingly polite goodbyes we finally parted our ways. That is, Blue remained on the platform to wait for a train and i went back into the town. Sasha followed me, without asking anything until we’ve gone away far enough. Then she finally said:

— So you actually do have some business in our town?

— Well, not exactly. It’s a long story that i’m not even sure i want to talk about. Anyhow, lets find some place to sit down and drink some coffee. I really need some caffeine right now.

— Hmm, i’m not sure local cafe would be a good idea. As far as i know the history of this town, there was only one good cafe and it didn’t last a year.

— That’s really sad.

— Ha-ha, it won’t be overstatement to call this place “Sad Town”.

— What about canned coffee then? Or is it also sad in these parts?

— Mostly. The one you can buy in most supermarkets is a masterpiece of awfulness. But there is one place that’s different. We’ll have to cross railways again though.

Until then we walked slowly on a dirty street parallel to railroad. According to a sign on one of the old wooden cottages, it was called “Привокзальная улица”. After Sasha suggested moving across, we simply turned into a narrow alley between two fences and walked through the rails.

— But wasn’t that the “cultural center” of the town? — i said referring to a little square near the station on the side we just left, — Isn’t there nothing but rural outskirt where we are going?

— I suppose that’s true. But there’s one small detail. There is a highway there and that’s where we are heading to. See, the center, however cultural you may call it, is for this town’s people. And as tiny as it is, the shop on gas station is for “outsiders”. And there’s a long-standing tradition that outsiders deserve the best.

— Tradition?

— Well, it’s not only a tradition. It’s also a simply economical thing. Nobody would buy product that’s few time more expensive than its cheap “analogue” in the town.

— Even if the cheap option is total crap?

— Even if the cheap option is crap, — Sasha repeated, — Well, you’ve seen the town yourself, didn’t you? How do you think people live there?..

I didn’t know what to answer. It’s not like i’ve never seen poverty before. It’s not like i should have been surprised by it. Yet i always did. It always felt absurd to me that people have to waste their lives on mostly useless ineffective work for a miserable rewards and are willing to do it.

The rest of our way we walked in silence.

***

“But what is lie?”, continued the abstract voice, “Is it really as simple as a boolean value?”

The voice made a long pause, sipping the no less abstract beverage.

“To define something, we need a language, but what if it in itself is a lie?”, it then continued again.

***

— Два горячих кофе и пачку эклеров, — Sasha ordered in the gas station shop and then turned to me, — You don’t mind sweets, do you?

— Sure. I’d take black coffee though, if there’s a choice, — i answered.

— Кофе-то какой? — asked her a woman voice from the other side of the glass counter filled with products.

— Один чёрный и один со сливками, — replied Sasha and put a few banknotes on the money plate.

Couple minutes later we were sitting on a bench of a seemingly abandoned bus station. It was a strange cafe replacement, but i didn’t mind. There was some sense of childish adventure in drinking coffee with eclairs on an empty bus station on a highway that was the most bright symbol of travel in the dying town.

Despite all the differences, i could easily imagine this was my home town and i was a teenager looking into the distance and nurturing plans of escape.

— I wish we could just thumb a ride away from this place, — i said, thinking aloud.

— Why can’t we? — Sasha replied after processing what i said for a while.

— It’s not that we can’t. It’s just that we can do it million other ways. I’m not bound to this place, or my home town, or any other particular place. And yet i still want to escape sometimes, but there’s no place to escape to. And after all these centuries of fantasizing of space travel we are still stuck to Earth.

I gulped down the remaining coffee and continued ranting:

— But then when i think deeper, i start thinking that maybe it doesn’t really matter and the now fantastic sounding prospect of leaving our old planet will cease to be amazing in a matter of a few weeks… I hope i didn’t bore you with my rants?

— Not at all. I can understand that this town could bring anybody in a depressive mood.

— Well, i’m not really depressed. It’s more of a nostalgic feeling, i guess. I feel like i’ve become a disillusioned adult and the excitement and fun of the youth is over for me.

— Is that really so? You seem to be leading pretty exciting life as far as i can tell. You certainly don’t look like a boring adult who returns home after work, lies on couch and complains about life while watching sports.

— Well, you’ve just described the perfect image of what i’d hate to live, so obviously i did everything in order to prevent that happening to me. Really, you shouldn’t take my rants too seriously, i guess i just like to complain sometimes.

— Ok. Well, if you need an audience, i can always listen to your complaints.

Sasha finished her coffee and threw the empty can to the trash bin.

— Thanks.

I replied and tried to repeat her trick, but failed miserably: my can hit the trash bin instead of falling into it. I got up and went to pick it up. For a few moments i was contemplating the irony of cleaning up your own trash in a place that is fillled with others’.

After i returned we sat in silence for a while, looking at the car stream.

***

“The metaphorical value of loneliness lies in its universality.” was written on an otherwise blank page of the infinite book opened somewhere in the middle. Other books on the desk were closed and arranged in stacks. There were eight desks in the room, also filled with books and the room itself was only one of the countless rooms in the library. But all the other books were closed.

***

It was still quite early in the morning and i still felt like relaxing, yet i also wanted to confirm the job results. It’s not like i didn’t trust Blue, the last words he conveyed were a pretty solid proof, but i wasn’t only interested in making justice or vengeance or whatever it should be called; i also wanted to see the consequences.

One of my secondary reasons to visit a cafe was to see if local news would contain any mentions of the subject. But since we didn’t go to cafe, i had to fulfill my curiosity in another way.

I spent some time considering how to approach this subject in a subtle way, but when i finally decided to straight away ask Sasha if she had a smartphone with her, she spoke first.

— I don’t really want to intrude, — she hesitated, — but.. i thought maybe you would be in a mood to tell about your business here?..

— Heh, you’re pretty persistent, aren’t you. As i said, it’s a long story. And i gotta say my throat is pretty tired of talking in the cold over a highway noise background. So if you’re sure you need to know this, lets find a calmer place.

— A calmer place, huh? We can return to the Orpheus’ place, if you’d like. That would take another ride, though, — Sasha thought for a while and then added, — Actually, i do know another place where we can stay relatively warm. It’s kind of peculiar place.

— Really? What is it?

— Well, it’s a.. how should i call it? The station watchman’s place. He’s an old acquaintance of mine. My parents’ friend.

— Will it be ok to intrude upon him like that?

— Don’t worry about that. He’s an old man who likes a company, so what you should be worried about is that it might be hard to have a private talk. Well, the fact that you don’t know russian certainly helps though.

— Well, if you say so.. I don’t really mind, — i yawned, — Oh, and by the way, we’d really need to sleep before getting back to business. Initially i planned to stay at the party place, but now that we’re back at station, i’m not sure we’d want to drive back after sleepless night.

— Hmm, now that you mention it, i start feeling i didn’t sleep in a while. Perhaps we can take a nap at old man’s place, if you don’t mind sleeping on an old couch.

— Anything would do in these circumstances. Lead the way.