Vita Nostra by Marina Dyachenko, Sergey Dyachenko Page B

eyelids. That his eyes were sewn together with a coarse thread, that his eye sockets were empty…
    He had eyes. Brown. Serene. Perfectly ordinary at first glance.
    “My name is Farit,” he said softly. “Farit Kozhennikov. If you would like to know.”
    “I would like to know,” Sasha said after a pause. “Could you…let me go? Farit? How about it?”
    He shook his head.
    “Sasha. You passed the preliminary testing, you were accepted into a good school, and you have almost an entire free summer ahead of you. Enjoy your summer, swim, take walks. Gather your strength before school. By August thirty-first get a ticket to Torpa. You can get there a couple of days in advance, get into the dorm, get acquainted…”
    “But how am I supposed to explain it to my mother?” Sasha almost screamed it. A woman passerby glanced at her with surprise.
    “You’ll find a way,” Farit said. “Come up with something. You never know, it might happen that there won’t be anyone to explain yourself to. Freedom—do whatever you want.”
    He put his glasses back on. Sasha clutched the bench; the serene face of her companion swam in front of her eyes.
    “And I have to…” she began shrilly. “You can’t… You can’t do anything. Nothing. I don’t believe in you. You… I want it to be a dream!”
    Nothing happened. The sun peeked through the clouds and reflected in the puddles.
    Sasha wanted to say something else, but instead she broke down sobbing, terrified, vulnerable and ashamed.
    “Quiet,” Farit said. “Calm down. Didn’t I say I would never ask you to do the impossible. Ever.”
    Sasha wept. Tears dripped on the typed lines on the yellow paper.
    “What is wrong with you,” Farit said tiredly. “Do you really need your University? No. It’s really not important. Are you enjoying living in a one-bedroom hole with the newlyweds? A new stepdaughter? No, Sasha. But you insist on keeping to the beaten path. Are you afraid of changing things?”
    “She must be… She’ll be fine!” Sasha screamed through her tears.
    “Obviously. She’ll be healthy and even happy. Because you’re an intelligent girl, and you will do everything as I tell you. Don’t ask me what will happen if you do not.”
    He rose gracefully.
    “Keep the money, bring it with you. The address of the Institute is on this form. Try not to lose it. Sasha, are you listening to me?”
    She sat, hiding her face in her hands.
    “Everything will be fine,” said the man who called himself Farit Kozhennikov. “You can take the University entrance exams if you’d like. If you don’t want to enjoy your summer—that’s up to you. One condition: by September first, you must be at Torpa. You will be assigned to a dorm. The meals are free. You will be getting a stipend, a small one, but enough to buy some chocolate. And stop crying. I’m ashamed of you, honestly.”
    ***
    Sasha remained on the bench until her tears dried up and her breath grew steady. The rain stopped, then started again. Raindrops struggled through the leaves of the linden tree. Sasha opened her umbrella.
    She did not ask what sort of special technologies were taught at the Torpa Institute. Frankly speaking, she was not at all interested. She was seventeen years old; most of her life has been wasted, especially this last year. Notes, textbooks… What for?
    She had no friends. Mom switched her love onto Valentin, the same way railroad points are switched from one track to another. She had no one to talk to, no one to complain to about a man in dark glasses who called himself Farit Kozhennikov.
    She got up. The rain had stopped a while ago, the sun was shining again, but Sasha still held an open umbrella, unaware of the surprised glances. She stepped up to the entrance, stood in line with the other applicants, handed in her application form, high school diploma, medical records. Just as she had planned all along.
    She returned home, gathered all her textbooks and notepads, admired the