Sergey Dyachenko - Vita Nostra

He was just as still and white as the sculptures. Two white piles of snow lay on his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Sasha opened the door; the drifting snow licked her fur-lined slippers. ‘What are you doing here, did they kick you out of the dorm?”

“I was reading the module,” Yegor rose awkwardly from the steps. “Has it ever happened to you… Have you ever read your future in the textual module?”

“Yes,” Sasha said stepping back inside the entrance hall. “Come in, I’m freezing.”

Yegor stepped in. A yellow light bulb burned on the landing of the first floor.

“I am going to fail the test,” Yegor said.

“Wait. Did you read it in the module? But it refers to the most probable future, not the one that’s been established absolutely and irrevocably!”

Yegor shook his head. Two small snowballs fell on the floor:

“I’m going to fail. The test is at ten. I won’t pass!”

He stood in front of her, hunched over, small and pitiful. Sasha analyzed her sensations: she was sorry for Yegor and a little uncomfortable on his behalf. As if a child, scared, crying, came to tell her about a boogeyman who lives in the closet.

Yes, he used to be her man. She wore his sweaters and shirts, she walked around with him never letting go of his hand. Only a year ago…

A year ago Yegor came out of the examination room and she held him, congratulating on his success. He smelled like someone close to her, but his arms hung lifelessly along his sides, and his response to Sasha’s muddled words was simply: “I’m sorry. I have to get ready for the English exam.”

Sasha survived that day, and many days that came later. And now she looked at Yegor and felt only compassion. And a little awkwardness. He was still a human being, and Sasha was not. She knew what they were taught. And he stumbled around in the dark, like a frightened puppy.

She held his hands gently:

“Listen. It’s only fear. It’s your materialized fear: get rid of it. You can do it. Farit… I mean, Liliya Popova… It does not matter what he’s called, but he never asks for the impossible. Concentrate. You will pass the test. In the worst case scenario you can have up to three makeup dates.”

Yegor blinked:

“I have a mother, my dad… a younger brother. Three makeup dates, you say? Three makeup dates?!”

He wept.

On the way up the stairs she had a brilliant idea. Letting Yegor in and shutting the door, she looked around in search of a shiny object.

She shook the puff out of the powder compact and wiped the mirror:

“Turn your face to the light.”

And when Yegor silently complied with her request, she sent a flash of light into his eyes.

His pupils did not contract as a normal human being’s, but widened. For a split second a dismal, dwindling, airless world opened up to her. Then Yegor squinted.

“Don’t close your eyes!”

She tried again, and this time she saw him from the inside: man-word halfway to his actualization, highly complex transformation processes, and everything is drowned by sticky gray goo; fear? Despair? But no matter how hard she tried to see, it was clear that she, a third-year student, who still hadn’t passed her placement exam, wasn’t going to be able to figure it all out right there and then.

“Hold on… we’ll get through this. We can do it.”

Sasha squeezed his hands, claiming Yegor, making him a part of herself.

“Listen to me, only to me. We progress from human being to word, and right now you are at the steepest point of the road. When you overcome this obstacle, when you finally realize what you are being taught, you will become absolute. Do you understand? You will be eternal. You will become Word and will accomplish your mission. You are a tool of Speech, an instrument of divine harmony. You are a participant of Creation… you will be. And right now you are a little human being. And you must fight your fear. I will go to your test with you, I will wait… And I will help you.”

The second years took a long time to reappear. Sasha waited under the hooves of the bronze horse.

She was a lousy teacher, but she “claimed” Yegor so deeply as she’d ever dared to claim another human being. Now she knew him better than her own mother. She understood him like no one else; but this morning, when Yegor convulsively embraced her and found her lips with his own, Sasha pulled away.

“Not right now,” she said in Portnov’s voice. “Focus.”

She spurred him on, pushed him and urged him on; like a blood donor, she transferred her confidence and her own will to win into Yegor. She brought him to the exam, nearly leading him by the hand:

“There is nothing impossible. There is no reason you can not pass! Go!”

An hour passed since the door closed behind him. Then another hour. Students came out one or two at a time, some immediately lit up a cigarette, others threw their arms around their friends, somebody was laughing hysterically; gradually the corridor became noisy, second years chased around in the hallway, and Sasha recalled the half-forgotten: ““What are the sparrows singing on this last day of chill? We live, we breathe, we made it, and we are living still!”

They resembled small funny critters at a veterinarian’s office. Sasha had no idea where this comparison came from. Animals don’t understand what is happening around them, they are controlled by animal fear. And then, when they are let go and allowed to roam free, they express their joy just like that.

One more year has to pass before the grey fog in their consciousness is dispelled, and they see Hypertext in all its splendor and perfection. Then they will understand their place in it, and will be overwhelmed by their ecstasy.

Sasha closed her eyes. Joy, ecstasy—the human emotions were too shallow; what she experienced facing Hypertext could only be expressed by the word of true Speech. This word, sharp and dazzling, emerald-green and opal, and graphically… Where were her pencil and paper?

Keeping in mind the limitations, she would only draw sketches. Only the most elementary ones, not the ones that could be manifested , only drafts of words and concepts. She became so involved that she nearly missed the end of the exam.

Yegor was the last student to come out of the auditorium. He took a few steps along the corridor and stopped. Sasha saw his face and knew right away.

“Makeup exam is the day after tomorrow,” he stared straight ahead. “But I cannot. I cannot.”

“Time is a grammatical concept. Is that clear, or do I need to explain?”

Sasha left an anchor in “happening right now” and rushed into “happened today.” As far back as she could.

… The second years took a long time to reappear. Sasha waited under the hooves of the bronze horse. Let’s see: she leapt only one activity back. If we assume that one “exam” equals one “activity.”

Students came out one or two at a time, some immediately lit up a cigarette, others threw their arms around their friends, somebody was laughing hysterically; gradually the corridor became noisy. “What are the sparrows singing on this last day of chill? We live, we breathe, we made it, and we are living still!”

Watching them, Sasha pulled a pencil and a piece of paper out of her bag. She drew a few graphical concepts. It is difficult for a human being in a human body to process thoughts using words of true Speech. They transform into bulky images, breathtakingly beautiful, but that has a fatal influence on the speed of cogitation…

Yegor was the last student to come out. He walked a few steps along the corridor and stopped. Sasha saw his face and bit her lip.