Sergei Lukyanenko - The New Watch

I dialled Semyon again.

‘Yes?’ he asked curiously.

‘Another question. How does the rite of renouncing Satan go in the baptism?’

‘You stand facing the west. The priest asks if you renounce Satan and his works. You renounce him three times and spit towards the west—’

‘Thanks.’ I cut him off again.

Las said nothing, clutching the wheel and looking straight ahead. We had already passed the Moscow Orbital Highway.

‘And what other difficult moments will there be?’ he asked almost timidly.

‘You take the plunge, you renounce Satan,’ I said, counting on my fingers. ‘And the third step – you must bear in mind that everything in the church is triune, because God is a trinity – the third step… you get out of the font and run round the church three times, against the movement of the sun.’

‘Naked?’ Las asked, horrified. ‘With no trousers?’

‘Of course. Like the Old Testament Adam, who was without sin until he did taste the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge!’

The phrase sprang to mind spontaneously, but it sounded very convincing.

‘Well… if I have to…’ Las said in a quiet voice.

‘You could drop into any church,’ I advised him. ‘Even a corrupt one. And buy a little book, with explanations.’

‘I feel awkward going into a church,’ Las admitted. ‘Not only am I not baptised, I’m a magician too! Bugger it, maybe I should postpone the baptism? If I have to run round the church naked… I’ll go to a gym for a while, firm up a bit…’

‘All right, the part about running round the church isn’t true,’ I said, taking pity on him. ‘But I would advise you to take the matter a bit more seriously.’

‘How complicated everything is…’ Las sighed as we trundled towards the terminal. ‘Is it D we want?’

‘Yes, the new one,’ I confirmed.

‘Well, then, let’s go for it, with God’s help!’ said Las.

I realised that the zeal of the neophyte still burned bright within him.

IN THE AIRPORT Las and I separated. He set off to talk to people – his abilities were quite adequate for making them talk frankly and openly about everything. First of all he had to talk to the engineers who had prepared that cursed (or would it be more correct to say ‘blessed’?) Boeing for its flight, then with the flight controllers and, if he could manage it, with the crew. And I set off to see the Others on duty at the airport.

As regulations required, there were two of them – a Dark Other and a Light Other. Of course, I knew ours – Andrei, a young lad, Fifth-Level, he didn’t appear in the office very often but worked at the airport all the time. I’d seen Arkady, the elderly Dark Other a few times too, when I was flying out or coming back myself.

Naturally, they were up to speed on what had happened. Andrei and the Dark Other were only too glad to discuss the story of the plane with me – but they couldn’t tell me anything useful because they didn’t know anything. The Dark Others had already ironically dubbed the child ‘The Boy Who Wouldn’t Fly’ – and that was probably the most valuable thing I learned. I also noticed that the relationship between Andrei and Arkady was entirely friendly, and made a mental note to recommend more frequent changes of duty personnel. There’s no prohibition in principle on friendly relations between Others. There are cases like that: I myself was friendly with a family of vampires, and in Petersburg there’s even a unique family – a Light Magician and a Dark Clairvoyant – although they don’t work in the Petersburg Watches… But in the case of a young Light One and an experienced Dark One there was a risk of undesirable influence.

Best to play safe.

With this thought in mind I wandered on round the airport for a while, discovered a vampire standing in a check-in queue and out of sheer boredom checked his registration seal – everything was in order. I got the urge to have another beer, but that would have been overdoing it. On the other hand… I didn’t have to drive… I caught myself edging closer and closer to the bar.

Fortunately, Las showed up, brisk and cheerful. I turned away from the little restaurant with a feeling of relief and waved to him.

‘Ninety-four per cent!’ he informed me cheerfully.

I raised one eyebrow quizzically – well, at least, that was the gesture I tried to imitate.

‘I’ve been interested for a long time in the question of how many people pick their noses when they’re sure no one can see them. So I asked exactly a hundred people – and ninety-four of them confessed!’

For a second I thought Las must have gone insane.

‘And you asked people about that instead of trying to discover something unusual?’

‘Why “instead of”?’ asked Las, offended. ‘As well as! Just think about it: how can you use the minimal amount of magical influence to make people tell the truth first, and make sure they’ll forget the questions as completely as possible! I introduced myself as a sociologist carrying out a survey with the permission of the management. I asked about any strange things they’d seen, about where they spent this morning… basically, everything I was supposed to ask. That was all under the influence of “Plato”. And at the end I asked the question about picking their noses. Surely you realise that someone who has confessed, even in an anonymous survey, that they pick bogies out of their noses with their finger when they’re alone will try to forget the whole business as quickly as possible? It was effective, and I got an answer to my question too!’

‘Why did you want that answer?’ I asked. ‘When they’re left alone, people often do… well… things that aren’t very attractive at all. Picking your nose with your finger is nothing, really.’

‘Of course,’ agreed Las. ‘But it’s indicative! The overwhelming majority of people will defend a footling little lie like that to the death. They don’t deny that they peep at immature nymphets, avoid paying their taxes or scheme against their colleagues at work, but they do deny something banal and funny that does no one any harm – picking their nose with their finger! That tells you a lot about people.’

‘Next time ask about them picking a different place with their finger,’ I replied sombrely. ‘What about our business?’

Las shrugged.

‘The plane was normal. They checked it out, just like they’re supposed to, no faults at all. By the way, did you know that planes can be allowed to fly when part of their equipment isn’t working? Well, everything was working on this one. And it’s a brand new plane, made three years ago, not some old second-hand junk from China.’

‘So no way was it going to crash, then?’ I asked, to make absolutely sure.

‘Everything is in God’s hands,’ Las said, with a shrug, and then flaunted his brilliant knowledge of the Bible: ‘“And a bird shall not fall from the sky without the will of the Lord!” And even more so an aeroplane. Well… and it didn’t fall.’

‘But the boy prophesied it,’ I said. ‘And the lines of probability indicated an inevitable disaster… All right. The plane was in good condition, the crew was experienced. Was there anything strange at all?’

‘To do with the plane, or in general?’ Las asked.

‘In general.’

‘Well, a local polizei shat himself this morning.’

‘What?’

‘He couldn’t get to the toilet in time. Dumped in his trousers. They found him an old uniform in the duty office and he washed himself off in the shower…’

‘Las, what is it that attracts you to all sorts of low crudity?’ I asked indignantly. ‘Even if an employee of the Ministry of the Interior did suffer an attack of dysentery, it’s not a fit subject for discussion – let alone for irony! You’re a Light One! A Light Other!’