I Pulled Off the Tunic, Glanced at My Stomach

I pulled off the tunic, glanced at my stomach, and nearly dislocated my jaw in shock. A purple scar radiated and bulged on my belly. A chain of events led from the tank, through the sphere and the arena, to here.

I decided it would sort itself out later, and for now I'd get dressed. The cold floor under my bare feet reminded me: not everything had turned out for the best. I shivered, shifting from foot to foot.

The gentleman glanced sideways at my feet and raised an eyebrow into a peak. The attendant, unhurriedly, savoring his measured movements, produced from the box – the height of dreams! – a pair of «Reebok Pump» sneakers smelling of leather and absolute happiness.

Delighted, thrilled, I put them on and looked at the gentleman, who asked:

— How do you like them?

— I like them.

— I see. To like something, you have to put on a pair of Reeboks.

— ..., uh, that's not what I meant, — I said, flustered.

— Try to collect yourself. Sit down.

— Thank you, — I said, and sat down, looked around. Nothing I hadn't seen before.

The gentleman smiled and sat down across from me, took out a string of prayer beads. Blue, green, red, and yellow beads pulled my attention away from studying my surroundings.

— Now then, — the gentleman began. — If you have questions, ask.

What was there to ask? Who was he to answer them? Still:

— Who are you?

— A petty question.

— Where am I?

— I think you'll be disappointed when you hear the answer.

— I don't care.

— Perhaps, but there's no point answering right now.

— Uh... how did I get here, and why?

— You got here by subway, if you haven't forgotten. Just before you arrived, you wished to change your fate for the better. That wish can be granted right now. Ready?

— For what?

— To change your fate for the better?

— M-mm... — I couldn't get my brain moving. I forced out: — How?...

— Your life will change for the better once you sign a contract. If you're ready, there won't be any delay.

— A contract? I don't understand.

— You will soon. What were you feeling just before you ended up here? Do you remember?

— I was fine.

— Is that so? Let me remind you.

The beads in the gentleman's hands flashed like the electrodes of a dozen welders. I squeezed my eyes shut, gripped by a wave of fury, anger, and hatred. I remembered the shine and glitter of Tverskaya, laughing girls, confident guys, glossy nouveau-riche types. A mix of helplessness and hatred twisted my whitened fingers into two fists.

— That's called envy, — the gentleman said, his unblinking gaze fixed on the bridge of my nose. — The parents of envy: poverty and weakness. Want to put an end to it?

— To what?

— To poverty and weakness...

— Yes.

— I can help.

— How?

— It's not yet time for that answer. Tell me, do you like it here?

— Where?

— This specific place.

I looked around. A cold discomfort pressed down on my shoulders, but...

— It's fine.

— And do you remember what came before? The desert, the sands, the basement, the room, the arena?

— I remember.

— Was it good?

— Awful.

— Really? — the gentleman laughed. — There are places here far more awful. Far, far worse.

He looked away somewhere to the side, lifting a stone of uncertainty and fear off my chest. Yes, exactly. I'd felt like an insect under the crosshairs of his cold eyes.

— It's called hell.

Hearing the words spoken crisply, I nearly toppled off my chair in shock. There was no fear.