Сергей Лукьяненко - Day Watch

"No… I'm not sure. But the reason I don't attack girls isn't because they might fight back!"

He was beginning to get a bit nervous. The conversation seemed like a joke, but he could sense that something wasn't right.

"It's also because they might put you in jail," I said. "And that's all."

"No," he said firmly.

"Yes," I said with a smile. "That's exactly the reason. You're a normal, healthy man, with all the right reactions. But there's a law, so you prefer not to attack girls, but court them first."

"Witch…" the driver muttered with a crooked smile. He stepped hard on the gas.

"Witch," I confirmed. "Because I tell the truth and don't play the hypocrite. After all, everyone wants to be free to live his or her life. To do what they want. Not everything works out-everyone has their own desires-but everyone has the same aspirations. And it's the clash of these that gives rise to freedom! A harmonious society in which everybody wants to have everything, although they have to come to terms with other people's desires."

"But what about morality?"

"What morality?"

"Universal human morality."

"What's that?"

There's nothing better than forcing someone into a dead end and making him formulate his question properly. People don't usually think about the meaning of the words they say. It seems to them that words convey truth. That when someone hears the word "red" he will think of a ripe raspberry and not a pool of blood. That the word "love" will evoke Shakespeare's sonnets and not the erotic films of Playboy. And they find themselves baffled when the word they've spoken doesn't evoke the right response.

"There are basic principles," said the driver. "Dogmas. Taboos. Those… what do they caff them… commandments."

"Well?" I said encouragingly.

"Thou shalt not steal."

I laughed, and the driver smiled too.

"Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife." His smile was really broad now.

"And do you manage it?"

"Sometimes."

"And you even manage not to 'covet'? You control your instincts that well?"

"Witch!" the driver said with relish. "All right, I repent, I repent…"

"Don't repent!" I interrupted. "It's quite normal. It's freedom! Stealing… and coveting."

"Thou shalt not kill!" the driver declared. "Eh? What do you say to that? A universal commandment!"

"You might as well say 'don't boil a young goat in its mother's milk." Do you watch TV and read the newspapers?" I asked.

"Sometimes. But I don't enjoy it."

"Then why do you call 'Thou shalt not kill' a commandment? Thou shalt not kill… It was in the news this morning-down South they've taken another three people hostage and they're demanding a ransom. They've already cut a finger off each one of them to show their demands are serious. And one of the hostages, by the way, is a three-year-old girl. They cut her finger off too."

The driver's fingers tightened their grip on the wheel and turned pale.

"Bastards…" he hissed. "Monsters. I heard that all right. But they're scum, they're inhuman-they have to be to do something like that. I'd strangle them all with my bare hands…"

I kept quiet. The driver's aura was blazing bright scarlet. I didn't want him to crash; he was almost out of control. My thrust had been too accurate-he had a little daughter of his own…

"String them up on the telegraph poles!" he continued, still raging. "Burn them with napalm!"

I kept quiet and waited until the driver had gradually calmed down. Then I asked:

"Then what about those universal moral commandments? If they gave you a machine gun now, you'd press the trigger without even hesitating."

"There aren't any commandments that apply to monsters!" the driver snarled. His calm, cultured manner had disappeared without a trace now! There were streams of energy pouring out of him in all directions… and I soaked it up, quickly replenishing the Power that I'd spent earlier that morning.

"Not even terrorists are monsters," I said. "They're human beings. And so are you. And there are no commandments for human beings. That's a scientifically proven fact."

As I drew in the energy that was bursting out of him, the driver calmed down. It wouldn't last long, of course. That evening the pendulum would swing back, and he'd be overcome by rage again. It's like pumping all the water out of a well very quickly-it comes rushing back in again.

"But even so, you're not right," he replied more calmly. "Logic does exist, of course, yes… But if you compare things with the Middle Ages, then morality has definitely advanced."

"Don't be ridiculous!" I said, shaking my head. "How has it advanced?… Even in the wars back then they had a strict code of honor. A war then was a real war, and kings fought with their armies, risking their thrones and their heads. And now? A big country wants to put pressure on a little one, so it bombs it for three months and gets rid of its outdated armaments at the same time. Not even the soldiers risk their lives! It's the same as if you drove up onto the sidewalk and started knocking down pedestrians like bowling pins."

"The code of honor was for the aristocrats," the driver objected sharply. "The simple people died in droves."

"And is it any different today?" I asked. "When one oligarch settles scores with another, there's a certain code of honor that's observed! Because both of them have goons to kill for them, compromising material about each other, certain interests in common, certain family ties. They're just like the old aristocracy! Kings sitting up to their ears in cabbage. And the simple people are trash. A herd of sheep that are good for shearing, but sometimes it's more profitable to slaughter them. Nothing's changed. There never were any commandments, and there aren't any now!"

The driver fell silent.

After that he didn't say another word all the way. We turned off Kamergerskaya Street onto Tverskaya Street and I told him where to stop. I paid, deliberately giving him more than I should have. It was only then that he spoke again.

"I'll never give a witch a lift again," he told me with a crooked grin. "It's too hard on the nerves. I never thought a conversation with a beautiful girl could spoil my mood so badly."

"I'm sorry," I said, and smiled sweetly.

"Have a good day at… work." He slammed the door and drove off abruptly.

Well, well. I'd never been taken for a prostitute before, but he seemed to think that was what I was. That was the effect of the paranjah… and the district we were in, of course.

But at least I'd more than made up for the Power I'd used up earlier. He'd turned out to be a magnificent donor, this intelligent, cultured, strong man. The only time I'd ever done better was… it was with the Prism of Power.

I shuddered at the memory.

It had all been so stupid… everything about it had been so monstrously stupid.

My entire life had gone downhill as a result. I'd lost everything in a single moment.

"You fool! You greedy fool!"

It was a good thing that none of the people could see my real face. It probably looked about as pitiful as my stupid young neighbor's.

Anyway, what was done was done. I couldn't turn back the clock, put things right and win back… his affection. It was my own fault, of course. And I ought to be glad that Zabulon hadn't handed me over to the Light Ones.

He used to love me. And I loved him… it would have been ridiculous for a young, inexperienced witch not to fall in love with the head of the Day Watch when he looked favorably on her…

My fists were clenched so tight that the nails were biting into the skin. I'd struggled through. I'd survived last summer. The Darkness only knew how, but I'd survived.

And now there was no point in remembering the past and sniveling and trying to catch Zabulon's eye again. He hadn't spoken to me since the hurricane last year-the one that had hit on the day when I was captured so shamefully. And he wouldn't speak to me for the next hundred years. I was sure of it.