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"GOD, I’M SO sorry about all this," said Arthur. "I just can’t seem to throw this Adamavich guy and his damned redstar Galactica. It’s as if I’m glued to the seat of a swing. Back I go in one direction, and I bump into Eric Saveli and his Tunguska cronies. Off I go the other way, and Commander Adamavich grabs hold of me. I feel like a pendulum."
The impenetrable fog still wrapped the Retreat. Nor had the problem service, the telephone, been restored. Diana Kotov stood up and stretched.
"I feel like going for a walk. Is anybody up for escorting a lady?"
Arthur also got to his feet.
"Please don’t go too far," cautioned Igor. "You could get lost out there. Once around the building, or just a little way down the road. I trust I've made myself clear."
As the two of them were on the point of leaving the room, Bragin spoke up.
"Fascinating. I think that what Art's experiencing is something like a ‘wave function,’ stretching between past and future. In 1880 there is only one amplitude peak. There’s another one in Commander Adamavich’s time, whenever that is. And here lies our observation point, in the present. Neither the Tunguska past nor the Adamavich future are rock-solid realities----they can't be! But now I’m starting to feel as if we’re in an uncertain state as well…."
"I second that," said Igor.
Softly, Arthur closed the double doors.
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Alex sat in his den huddled over the latest issue of Soviet Film, with a half-eaten sausage and a bottle of black beer before him. He looked up.
"How’s it going, then? Doesn’t sound much like your ordinary sort of rehearsal to me!"
"You have been eavesdropping!"
"No, I haven't. I just pass the door once in a while."
"Ah, that would account for the wear and tear on the carpet."
Alex shrugged and took a swig of beer.
"We’re going out," Diana said impatiently. "We need our overcoats and galoshes."
"What are you going out for?"
"For a promenade," said Diana. "A saunter. An ambulation. A stroll."
"All of those things, eh? I'd advise against it. You can't see out there to spit."
"Tell me, what acting academy did you attend?"
Alex scratched his head. "Amazing the things that rub off on a chap when he's surrounded by a gang of eccentric artists."
"Could we please have our things?" repeated Diana.284Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHt0czWNPcN
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Visibility was almost zero; an arm’s length in any direction there was only cotton wool.
"I wonder what the result would be if we hypnotized him?" Diana jerked a gloved thumb.
"Who?"
"Alex, who else?"
"You think he’s…one of them?" Diana didn’t have to say who she was talking about.
Arthur nodded. "He’s just a watchdog. But I do wonder why he lays it on so thick: the dumb plebian bit?"
"To give us all fair warning?"
"Parodying himself would be a good way to do so."
"Maybe he likes his artists."
"Well, I don’t wish to sound paranoid, my peachy psychiatrist, but if that’s what he is, and if I do happen to be in tune with some secret research lab, I must say this could well be a field day for our friend. As soon as the phone starts working."
"My goodness, you do have a serious side, after all."
"That’s my left side, the one next to you."
Hugging close to the wall, they began walking together along the snowy path surrounding the Retreat. The bizarre white-out swallowed them whole.
Arthur swept a hand through the air. "The spell of Baba Yaga," he quipped.
Diana also scooped at the air and touched the tip of a gloved finger to her tongue as if it might have picked up a curious taste.
"Good God, what is this thing: a cloud bank that got stuck on the ground?" +
"It’s a cloud of time-flakes, that what. Motes of time which haven’t settled yet. Like in one of those kiddies’ snow scenes, you know. Suppose every time you look at it, there was a new scene in the toy? Right now, I’m on my way to Sakhalin." He jerked his wrist. "Wait for it to settle! Ah, now, I’m on my way to Tunguska. Try again: oh, now I’m on my way to the stars----back through history! We’re fifty light years out, and Stalin’s still alive. A hundred light years out, and the Czar falls." He peered into his empty hand. "Watch out! The wolves are coming!"
"Wolves?!!!"
He guffawed. She could have slapped him.
"Ass!"
They had reached the third side of the building now. From here the hard-top road had to slope away invisibly downhill. It would descend gently for the first fifty meters then much more steeply. Diana remembered that that stretch of the road was hedged with young pine trees; there was no way of blundering off it, even though thin snow hid the road."
Together, they ventured away from the building, sliding three paces ahead step by step as if they were walking out onto a frozen lake.
After what seemed a long while, Arthur said, "Odd! We should be on the slope by now, but it’s still flat."
Nothing was visible except woolly snow and woolly fog. Disoriented, Diana almost lost her balance, but Arthur steadied her.
"We’ll be able to follow our footprints back," he reassured her. And they pressed on. He chewed his lip. "We must have reached the steep bit," he said presently.
"I don't think so."
"Look, I know how far it is."
"Well, so do I!"
"I’m going to try an experiment. Stay right there, Diana. I’m going to walk off at ninety degrees till I bump into one of the trees."
"The hell you will!"
"You'll be fine. Just stand still. There are no Yetis in these parts."
"Promise that you'll count up to no more than twenty. Then come straight back."
"With a fir cone in my hand." Setting one foot exactly in front of the other, Arthur vanished almost immediately. Diana counted under her breath.
They shouldn't have split up! She was sure of this. She lost count, then called out. Silence!
A second time she called his name and strained to hear.
A hand touched her on the shoulder. Her heart lurched insanely. It was Arthur, holding her while she shivered and gasped.
"You bastard! That wasn't funny!" But then she saw that Arthur looked equally surprised. "Art, you did creep up on me, didn't you?"
"I swear I didn't! I counted to 40. Okay, I'm sorry, and there you were just in front of me, with your back turned. No trees."
"You walked in a circle."
"I went straight I tell you!"
"You must have heard me call out your name."
"I heard someone call out 'Eric,' twice. That's not my name. I wasn't answering to that. Anyway, I got scared. Diana, the voice was coming from ahead of me. And I was going to run back, then, all of a sudden, there you were."
"Did I really call 'Eric'?" wondered Diana. "Perhaps I did." She clutched hold of his arm. "What's happening to us, Art? Where are we?"
"We're about 75 meters from the building, maybe more."
"But which way is that?" Where they stood was quite trampled in several directions. Soon, by cautious scouting they confirmed 3 distinct routes: the one by which they had both come, the one Art had taken on his own when he left her, and the one by which he had returned. These last two stretched out in a straight line at ninety degrees to the first, forming a T-junction.
"Right," said Diana. "We're going back."
"No." Arthur pulled her around. "Not yet. I want to know where the hill starts. It's got to start! We'll walk that way, where the snow's still smooth. Please, Diana!"
They linked arms. "One," she began. "Two...."
By the time she reached eight in her count she could no longer see the ground; the fog was even denser, hiding her legs and his. When she reached twelve, she couldn't even make out Arthur's face.
"Arthur!"
"The one and only." He squeezed her arm. "It's simple enough to walk. No trouble breathing."
When she reached twenty, though, she could see his features emerging once more.
"Peekaboo!" he said, though he didn't sound very confident.
"Twenty-one---twenty-two..."
"Look! Footsteps!"
The snow was indeed trampled in a hauntingly familiar fashion. And by now the fog was as it'd been earlier. Only two paces more, and they were backtracking along a twin row of footsteps leading in their direction.
"Those can't be ours! Come on."
Again Diana had lost count. But they followed the trail of footsteps onward...and now a wall loomed ahead of them. Diana ran a wondering hand over it.
"It can't be the Retreat. The Retreat's back that way."
"We walked in a circle."
"You know damn well we didn't."
"Look, any psychologist could tell you---I mean, it's so disorienting, this fog."
"The front door must be along here, round the corner."
Which it was. They hunched inside the log-pillared porch, before entering.
"What do we tell them, Art?"
"To send out Alex to sweep the snow."
"Be serious, damn you!"
"I am being serious. With a long cord tied around his waist. We play the string out slowly, keeping it taut."
"We'd have to say why."
"True. In that case, there's no way we can explain."
"Isolation or sensory deprivation?"
Arthur squeezed Diana around the waist. "Now that you mention it, Leo...."
"I am not Leonid Bragin." To prove this, she pecked Arthur quickly on the cheek. Disengaging herself, she thrust the door open.
"Hang on!"
"What is it?"
"It just occurred to me that if we walk in a straight line and end up back where we started---well, do you think we could possibly phone ourselves, too?"
"How's that?"
"If a straight line leads back here, maybe the phone line does as well? Let's dial the number of the Retreat and see what happens."
"That's insane!"
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They surrendered their coats and galoshes to Alex who was chewing the last bite of sausage, his breath smelling of sweaty socks.
He swallowed. "Enjoy your walk, then?"
"Splendid. You should take a walk yourself."
"Catch me, Mister!"
Arthur grinned. "Do you mind if I use the phone."
"I thought I told you people that it's not working."
"Maybe my magic touch will cure it, yes?"
"Very well. It's through there."
He trailed after them and hung around while Arthur dialed. Arthur heard a lot of clicks followed by a ringing tone.
"Hey, that's our number you dialed!"
"It's ringing, too," Arthur held out the phone for Diana to hear.
"It is. But nobody's answering."
"That's hardly surprising, as we're already here." Arthur laid the hand-set down without taking the time to cradle it. "Come on."
Alex immediately scuttled to the abandoned hand-set and scooped it up. He listened too, then cradled it hastily and pursued Arthur and Diana to the door to see them off his premises.
Arthur sauntered a few paces down from the corridor before stopping to fuss with his shoe. "Damned lace!"
As soon as he heard the door close, he tiptoed back to eavesdropping. Straining, he heard the whirr of Alex dialing a new number, followed by a bewildered curse and the slam of the hand-set being cradled. Grinning, he caught up with Diana."
"That's given him food for thought."
"Us too, Art. Us too." She pushed opened the double doors.
"Ah, Mr. Tolkachyov," Bragin called out heartily. "Refreshed and ready for another session, I hope."
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