“I wasn’t the one who picked it up. I just happened to meet this man. A radio operator. He told me.”
“Where? Where did you meet him? What station?”
The old man sighed a bit more.
“Teatralnaya Station, I think. Teatralnaya.”
“Smack in the hottest spot in the Metro that is? Do you think I’m scared of going and checking for myself?”
“I don’t think anything of the kind, young man,” Homer said in a dignified fashion.
“When?”
“A couple of years ago. I don’t remember.”
He doesn’t remember.
The only time that Artyom had heard someone’s distant, weak voice in the jagged gaps between the hissing and the howling of the airwaves had be imprinted on his mind forever, and even now he only had to start listening for that sound to ring in his ears like the dried-up voice of the sea in a seashell. How could anyone forget something like that?
How could anyone dream all his life about writing a book for his descendants, for the future generations, so that those generations would know where they came from, so that they wouldn’t lose the dream of one day returning to the surface—and not remember every little detail of something like that?
And at Teatralnaya too.
“You’re lying,” said Artyom, quite certain.” You just want me to like you.”
“You’re mistaken. I simply—”
“You want me to like you, so that I’ll spill all the beans for you. My entire sodding story. You decided to win me over, right? You probed for a soft spot and sank in the hook … Right?”
“Certainly not! It’s an absolutely real event.”
“Agh, come off it!”
“Oh,” said hook-nosed Armenchik, sucking in his snot with relish.” The dreamers are arguing over whose dream is dreamier.”
Infuriated with himself and this stupid old liar, Artyom laid the back of his head against a bullet-riddled sandbag and squeezed his eyelids together. Fucking fantasist. As soon as your soul grows a scab over itself, someone comes along and picks it off.
The old man frowned and didn’t attempt to change Artyom’s mind.
Screw him anyway.
They didn’t say another word to each other until the end of the watch. As they emerged into the station, Artyom didn’t even exchange glances with the old man in farewell.
* * *
“There’s reliable information. A signal’s been picked up from the Kola Peninsula. There are survivors there,” said Artyom, glancing at Kirill significantly.
“Honestly?”
“Honestly!”
Kirill jumped up in the air, he was so delighted. He judged his breathing wrongly and started coughing violently. Knowing what would come next, Artyom gave him a handkerchief. When Kirill recovered, he tore the handkerchief away from his mouth and examined it with a frightened, guilty look that wrung Artyom’s heart.
“It will all pass. You’ll go chasing rats again! It’s no big deal, just a little bit of blood!”
“Mum scolds me. Don’t show her. You won’t show her, will you?”
“Oh, come on, will you! You and me, we’re like that! A team! You don’t squeal on me; I don’t squeal on you!”
“Swear on the Order.”
“I swear on the Order.”
“Swear solemnly.”
“I swear solemnly on the Order.”
Kirill clambered up onto his knees.
“Come on. Tell me.”
“Well,” said Artyom.” There’s definite information. A signal was picked up from the north. From the Kola Peninsula. An atomic power station has survived there completely untouched. And there’s a town beside it. It’s called Polar Dawns. Beautiful, eh? So we’re not here alone. Do you understand that, Kiriukh? We’re not alone. There are other survivors too. And we’ve found them. How about that?”
“Wow, cool!” said Kirill, gazing at Artyom with his huge, pale eyes.” But is it really true?”
“It is really true. And that power station makes enough electricity to keep the whole town warm all year round. And they’ve built a huge glass dome over the town. Can you imagine that?”
“Na-ah.”
“Like a glass, only big.”
“What for?”
“To keep the heat in. Outside there’s a snowy blizzard, but inside the weather’s fine and warm. Trees in blossom. Just like in that book of yours. And fruit orchards, with apples in them … And tomatoes, by the way. People walking along the streets in their T-shirts. There’s heaps and heaps of food. All sorts sweet things. And the toys aren’t like what you have, those used cartridge cases. All different sorts of toys.”
Kiriukha squeezed his eyes shut, diligently trying to imagine all this. He coughed a couple of times with his mouth closed, quietly. Restraining himself. Breathed out long and slow. He probably couldn’t imagine it. Artyom himself couldn’t.
“And in summer this dome opens up—and they live in the open air. Not under the ground, but outside, in houses with windows. Through the windows they can see the other houses, or the forest, for instance. That’s the way they live. Everything clean, dry, and fresh. Right out in the sun. And in air like that not a single microbe can survive; they all die. And people walk along the street without any gas masks.”
“All the microbes? And tuber dies too?” asked Kirill, instantly wide awake.
“All of them. And tuber first of all.”
“So I can just go there and breathe without a gas mask in order to be cured?”
“I think so,” said Artyom.” Yes. Here in the tunnels the damp, stuffy air makes things really easy for the tuber. But fresh air means instant death for it.”
“Wow! I have to tell mum! She’ll be so happy. And are you going to go there?”
“Well now, this place Polar Dawns is very far way. It’s not that easy to get there. You have to build up your strength.”
“I’ll build mine up! How much do I need?” asked Kirill, bouncing on Artyom’s knee.
“You need a lot. Do you know how long it takes to get there? On all-terrain troop transports probably … six months! Across the surface. Through the forests and the swamps. Along the ruined roads.”
“Well, so what? I’ll get there!”
“Nah, I probably won’t take you with me. I’ll only go with other soldiers from the Order.”
“Ah, why’s that?”
“Your mother says you don’t eat anything. We don’t need a wimp like that with us in a troop transport team. Nothing but a burden. And it’s a tough journey. Lots of obstacles to overcome. Monsters every step of the way. We’ll have to survive lots of adventures. And how are you going to survive them, if you don’t eat anything? You’ll peg out in the very first adventure. No, our Order needs soldiers, not weaklings.”
“I can’t look at those mushrooms any longer. Ba-a-ah …”
“What about the vegetables? Your mum got you some vegetables. Did you see the tomato? That tomato traveled all the way across the Metro from Sebastopol to get to you.”
“Yuck.”
“Exactly the same kind of tomato, by the way, as the tomatoes that grow in the streets and the gardens of that town Polar Dawns. Come on now, try it. It has a whole ton of vitamins in it.”
“Okay, I’ll eat the tomato, then. If it’s the same kind that grow there.”
“Get it down you right now. In front of me.”
“Then while I do it you tell me more about that town and the dome like a glass.”
Kiriukha’s mother, Natalya, was standing outside, listening to everything, every single word, through the tarpaulin. With shadows flickering across her face and her fingers twisting and twining together.
“I got him to eat the tomato,” Artyom told her with a smile.
“Why did you tell him that nonsense of yours? He’ll drive me crazy with it now,” said Natalya, not smiling back at him.
“Why be so quick to call it nonsense? Maybe the town of Polar Dawns does exi
st. Let him imagine it.”
“The doctor was here yesterday. He came from Hansa.”
Artyom forgot what word he was going to say next. He was afraid to guess what Natalya was going to tell him, so he simply didn’t think anything. He tried not to think, in order not to jinx things.
“He’s got three months left. That’s all. You and your Polar Dawns.”
Natalya’s mouth twisted out of shape, and Artyom realized what had been in her eyes all the time they were talking.
“You mean, there’s absolutely nothing?”
A film of dried-up tears.
“Mu-u-u-um. Artyom’s going to take me to the Far North with him in a troop transport! Will you let me go?”
* * *
He thought Anya would be asleep already; or pretending to be asleep—as usual, anything to avoid him. But she was sitting on the bed, with her bare legs crossed under her and clutching a half-liter bottle containing something cloudy with both hands, as if she was afraid someone might take it away from her. He caught a whiff of alcohol.
“Here,” she said, holding it out to him.” Have a swig.”
Artyom did as she said, scalding his throat with the homebrew, then held his breath and blinked. It made him a little dizzy and warmed him up a bit. Now what?
“Sit down,” said Anya, slapping the blanket beside her.” Sit down, please.”
He lowered himself onto the spot she had indicated, then half turned his head to glance at her.
A simple vest with shoulder straps.
The downy fluff on her hands was standing up on end—from the cold?
The same as she was two years ago. Black hair cut short in a boyish style. Thin, pale lips. Nose slightly too big for that delicate face, with a crook in it, but without it the face would be insipid and boring. Her arms were woven completely out of cables, like the arms of anatomical models, without a trace of girlish softness in them, and the muscles on her shoulders were like epaulettes. A long neck, with an artery pulsing rapidly, and that neck-bone of hers there … Her collarbones stick out; those collarbones used to make him want to love her and pity her and torment her until he was all dried up. Sharp nipples showing through the white fabric. Why does a lightbulb shine brightly at first and then burn out?
“Put your arm around me.”
Artyom reached his arm out and arranged it awkwardly on Anya’s shoulder in a brotherly kind of way, or as if he was hugging a child. She leaned slightly towards him, as if she wanted to nestle against him, but all those cables in her remained taut and twisted. And Artyom couldn’t loosen up either: he took another swig, hoping.
He couldn’t do any of the right things either: he’d got out of the habit.
Anya touched him. Then she ran her lips across his cheek.
“Prickly.”
Artyom shook up the murky liquid in the plastic bottle and downed a really big gulp. His head was full of the Far North and an all-terrain vehicle.
“Let’s … Let’s try, Artyom. Let’s try again. We have to. All over again. From the beginning.”
She lowered her fingers—cold and rough—onto his belt and deftly unhooked the buckle.
“Kiss me. Come on. Kiss me.”
“Yes. I …”
“Come to me.”
“Wait … Just a moment.”
“Well, what’s wrong? Take … Take this off me … It’s too tight. I want you to undress me. You.”
“Anya.”
“What is it? That’s right … Sssssssh … I’m cold.”
“Yes. I …”
“Come here. That’s it … And you too … Come on … Come on … Take this nasty shirt off …”
“Okay. Just a moment.”
“There. God. Let me have a swig.”
“Take it.”
“Ah. Agh. Come on. Here. Right here. Like you used to do. Do you remember? Do you still remember?”
“An … Anechka …”
“Well, what are you doing there? Well?”
“You … You’re so …”
“Well, what are you doing? Come on.”
“I’m not used to it any more … I’m sorry.”
“Let me do it … Why do you have to? Let me have it.”
“Anya …”
“Well? Well! Come on … Right in here … Do you feel it?”
“Yes … Yes.”
“It’s been so long for me. You’re completely … Why are you like that? Don’t you understand? I need you. You. Well?”
“Okay. Just a moment. It’s just … It’s just been a bad day …”
“Shut up. Quiet. Let me try … Just lie there.”
“Today I …”
“Shut up. Close your eyes and shut up. That’s it. That’s it. Right … And now … Now just … Well, what’s wrong with you? What?”
“I don’t know. It’s not working.”
“Well, what?”
“God only knows. No. My head’s just full of …”
“What? What’s your head so full of?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Get off me. Go away.”
“Anya …”
“Where’s my vest?”
“Wait.”
“Where’s my vest? I’m cold.”
“Oh come on … Don’t act this way. You’re not the problem. It’s not because of you …”
“No more, that’s it. And stop trying to fake your feelings.”
“That’s not true …”
“Push off, do you hear? Push off!”
“All right. I …”
“Where are those fucking panties! That’s it. If you don’t want to, you don’t want to. Or are you all withered up down here? From the radiation?”
“No, of course not, what do you …”
“You just don’t want it with me … To have children from me …”
“I told you … It’s been a bad day.”
“We don’t have any, because they know: You don’t want them, you’re not waiting for them!”
“That’s not true!”
“I … Artyom! I left for you. Smashed everything with my father to hell. Because of you. After that war, after the battle … With the Reds … He’s in a wheelchair! Him! He can’t walk … And they sliced his arm off … Do you at least understand what that means to him? To be an invalid! And I left him, my own father—to be with you. I went against him! Against his will!”
“So what can I do about it? He doesn’t even think of me as a man … I tried to tell him the whole truth … But he … He’s the one who doesn’t want us to be together. What’s that to do with me?”
“To have your children. Do you understand that? Yours … I stopped going up on the surface, so all my female organs would be healthy … They’re like a sponge … The radiation … You know that! Those damned mushrooms! To fit in here, in this station of yours! Do you think I see myself … That I see my future like that? I abandoned my duty. To sing lullabies to pigs. And for what? But you just carry on! You haven’t stopped for a single day! You’ve completely burnt yourself out down there. Do you understand? Maybe that’s why it didn’t work for us? And it isn’t working now. And I’ve begged you so many times! Your father has begged you so many times!”
“SukhoI isn’t really …”
“What are you doing it for? You just don’t want any children, is that it? You just don’t like children, is that it? You don’t want any from me! You don’t want any at all! You don’t give a shit for any of that. The only thing you’re fit for is saving the world. But what about me? Here I am! You’re letting me go! You’re losing me! And you want to lose me, is that it?”
“Anya, why are you … ?”
“I can’t go on like this. I don’t want to go on. I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to beg for sex. I don’t want to dream about getting knocked up. And I don’t want to be afraid that if I do get knocked up by you, I’ll have a monster.”
“That’s enough! Shut up!”
“And you will have a m
onster, Artyom! You’re like a sponge too! You’ll pay for every one of your trips to the surface. Don’t you understand that?”
“Shut up, you bitch!”
“Go away. Go away, Artyom. Go away and don’t come back.”
“I’ll go.”
“Yes, go.”
All this is in a whisper. The shouts are in a whisper, the groans are in a whisper, the crying is in a whisper.
All soundless, the way it is with ants.
And all the neighbors pretend to be asleep.
And everyone knows everything.
* * *
The protective suit fitted into the bundle perfectly. He put his service Kalashnikov—which he was forbidden to take out of the station—on top of it, with six magazines of cartridges bound together in pairs with blue insulating tape, and a plastic bag of dried mushrooms. The gas mask stared murkily at him until Artyom closed it in with the zip—yanking it violently like an annoying corpse in a sack. Then he heaved the knapsack onto his shoulders—his own curse, his rock of Sisyphus.
“Granddad! Get up! Collect your things! Just don’t make any noise.”
The old man seemed to have been sleeping with his eyes open—he woke up immediately.
“Where are we going?”
“Did you tell me the truth about Teatralnaya? About that radio operator of yours? About him being there?”
“Yes … Yes.”
“Right then … Will you show me the way there?”
“To Teatralnaya?” Homer asked hesitantly.
“You really did think I’d chicken out, eh? Screw that, granddad. Maybe it’s hell for some, but for us it’s the field of our military glory. Well? Or was it all just lies?
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Come to Teatralnaya with me. I’ve got to see this man of yours for myself. And ask him about everything. Let him give me his radio … So I’ll believe it.”
“It was two years ago, you know …”
“Let’s make an arrangement, the two of us. You lead me to this radio operator, and I tell you everything you wanted to ask me about. Without hiding a thing. The Dark Ones, the Bright Ones, the Murky Ones. Whatever you fancy. The history of my heroic feat. I’ll tell you what I haven’t told anyone else. The whole fucking Greek tragedy from alpha to omega. A deal? Word of honor. Shake on it.”
Homer held out his hand—slowly and doubtfully, as if he thought Artyom might spit into it—but shook Artyom’s hand firmly.
Metro 2035 Page 5