

## Neon Necropolis

### Vol 0: For VIP

By Vincent O'Thorn

Smashwords Edition

ISBN 9781370294077

Copyright © 2018 by Vincent O'Thorn

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

***

Decoding from binary code: Vincent O'Thorn

Translation into human language: Anastasia "Mousy" Isupova

Canvas: Prozerpina DeSorel

## Index

Act I

The Best Employee of the Month

Enter the Depth

Act II

4 | Demise

13 | Dreamweb

23 | HOLES

Entract I

Act III

25 | Hallowed Be Thy Acorns

33 | Something

37 | American Harakiri

Entracte II

Act IV

40 | Twisted Soul Asylum

47 | Archive

57 | Mu

Penthouse

"Everything is true," he said. "Everything anybody has ever thought."

― **Philip K. Dick, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?**

### 1987

Heavy crimson portieres were slide apart, lifting a swarm of dusts, spreading a smell reminiscent of a small street in Thailand, where people cook everything that crawls, flies and what you can chew. And it doesn't matter how long ago it was crawling. The searchlights awoke and cut the tangible darkness, pointing at a tall thin actor, who was standing in perishable depths of the scene. He raised his right hand. In his tenacious long fingers was clamped a small acorn. His other hand was wearing a little scary doll, depicting a girl in a T-shirt with an incomprehensible Latin inscription. He looked at the acorn, squinting dark deep-set eyes contrasting with a face covered with white makeup. "To be or not to be" - this phrase forced itself on, but the staging implied something else, and a person reminiscent of the French mime threw the acorn into the auditorium. Silence broke to pieces from a fierce applause. There was no liveliness in them. Rather, aggression and thirst to see the culmination of this performance, which would smoothly collapse into the deep of the denouement.

The whole troupe appeared near the mime. Someone looked the same peculiar, someone was very usual, as if he had just walked into his boring office, and, unexpectedly for himself, got to the show. Perhaps it was so. There was a clear place on the stage for each of them. They all arrived, slowly filling the voids and waving to the auditorium, which stayed cold. The last who went to the scene was a large man. A mask with a long pointed nose was on his face and he was dressed in something what reminded a long medical coat with large black buttons. A cart with cheerful jingle was rolled next to him. The big-nosed one brought with himself a certain parallelepiped, which was covered with a blue fabric.

The company of actors surrounded the cube, but none of those present did not remove the material, and did not even touch the cargo, as if there was some special time for this.

'The last time', muttered the big-nosed, as he approached the mime. 'They've ruined everything.'

His voice was rough, calm, almost without intonations, as if the machine was talking. A complete alternative to his interlocutor, who abruptly jabbered with the emotions in response.

'But how? But why? Oh, woe to us. And what will we do!?'

'There are always options. Remember our friends. They live in the center. They will help us.'

'Oh! Do they have such an opportunity?'

'They have more than an opportunity.'

'So ... we'll need a courier!

'For what? I do not understand you.'

'We will exchange a lot! We will sell a lot! They have more than an opportunity! We have more than necessity!'

'You're right. I have ideas in my mind. And now we have to start.'

They turned to the audience.

'Mesdames et Messieurs!!!'

'Ladies and Gentlemen.'

'We welcome you in our renovated theater!'

'Now you can watch our performances on TV.'

'Most likely, you do it right now! You can purchase VHS...' he stopped short and looked thoughtfully at his colleague, 'Do you feel?'

'What exactly?'

'It smells of smoke...'

'Don't be distracted. We can't spoil the performance.'

The mime shrugged and turned his attention back to the hall.

'So! We start!'

He leaned toward to the cargo on the cart and slowly began to lift the piece of fabric. The impatience in the auditorium grew. The air filled with a loud whisper. One moment and the fabric was thrown off with a spectacular gesture under the universal "Whoa!". But the view was too strange... Too strange and even vile for just to be a part of reality.

The smell of smoke intensified.

## ~ Act I ~

### The Best Employee of the Month

Quick awakening.

Melanie sprang up what pretty frightened the other passengers, who, like her, went to the sleeping area from the office center. After calming the old lady, who was sitting next to her and decided that the bus was attacked, the girl flopped onto the sitting. The gazes of strangers were largely disappeared and of course it was for the best - she needed to drive a couple more stops. And only then Melanie could leave the hell of public transport, creep to her apartment, take a snack sandwiches with peanut butter and more peanut butter, and take a shower. After such a dream, the shower needed reinforced. But the girl could not remember what was under the blue fabric.

"I shouldn't to sleep on the bus. My district is not the most criminal, but this city is not Garden of Eden. Sometimes it seems that everything is rotten right through here. Neither the mayor, the governor, law enforcement agencies, special services, nor this vile rain can clean the decaying streets. Dirt falls apart, leaving a void. But you still have to work somehow. And it becomes more complicated with each damn day. Maybe I should be a designer or doing a handmade stuff, work from home, like all normal girls of my age? So, on the other hand, no one forced me. And now what? Give up? Mom, Dad, courier service is not for me. And okay, if I carried pizza, but work for "Snow in the Summer" company - this is a good line in the resume. The great one."

"Snow in the Summer" has always been number one in city courier services. Only VIP-clients and only with special cargoes. The work was infinitely far from pushing spam into mailboxes, spreading newspapers and milk in mornings. The company's couriers made their way through any traffic jams, bad weather, fences and packs of dogs. One Melanie's friend carried a parcel through the forest to some hermit. After that she was talking everyone at least a week about how she had been hiding from a bear. And, in the end, also from the half-mad hermit, who arranged the shooting. Of course, she was compensated for her troubles with a fine bonus.

The firm "Snow in the Summer" was created by the ancestors of Melanie in the 1930s. There were some rumors that the forerunner of the modern company was a kind of special service in pre-revolutionary Russia. One noble family had once moved from that country and started from scratch in a new place and evolved to the present scale. By the truth the work really was dangerous. They did not take everyone, and the criteria were not clear even to the majority of those who had already been in the staff. It was necessary to pass several tests when applying for a job. Some of them were quite ordinary, some resembled a shamanic rite of initiation. In general, nothing terrible. However, Melanie's father did not think so. He was initially against the daughter's entry into the family business, but the mother said that the daughter should to continue the business of her family, how it always happened.

"Now, I am the best employee of the month. I deliver snow in the summer. In any weather. Even to the devil himself ... Or how was it in a slogan?"

Arguments to take their child to work for loving parents were two. First, she perfectly passed all tests. Secondly, she could not get into any other position in any other company, as the corporate culture was an unbearable torment for her, which was confirmed by practice. In all manifestations of this very culture. She was rescued from chants and hymns and sent to the office to the most loyal supervisor, who, by the way, was helping her to get more complex and expensive orders, in secret from her parents. Melanie suspected that they were really aware about it, but scandal to the best employee of her firm would be complete delirium, and Melanie was the really best, and not just held the honor board as the stereotypical children of the leadership. In addition, she would have been tortured by her conscience if her favorite supervisor, who looked like an actor from the sixties, were fired because of her mistakes, so she had to fall over backward every time. And every time successfully.

The bus reached the stop that Melanie needed. Leaping to her feet, she left a vehicle. The same glaring glance of the old lady was her accompany. The old one, probably, will chat to everyone, that she at least neutralize the terrorist in broad daylight. No one would condemn such vigilance. And for Melanie it was preferable than someone who would have tried to steal her bag with a valuable cargo.

"I should have had to take a work car or pick it up tomorrow. But now it's too late. I'll look sharp on it."

The girl patted her luggage. Her future fee and luxury vacation pleasantly protruded from her bag. Nine little packages for especially important persons. Everybody was there in the past, but every time it became сuriouser and curiouser.

Melanie bought herself an apartment that occupied the entire second floor of the house, which looked like decoration of the noir detective. She could afford something better, like a house near a lake, or something in the center, but the point was not in luxury, but in the fact that all dreams come true. By the way, the furniture was delivered to her by a competing firm - Melanie was going to die without conveying this secret.

'I'm home!' she said to the emptiness of her apartment.

"Maybe I should to take a hamster."

In fact, it was not really possible, since she could have been absent for a week in the city and even in the country. Of course she could ask to look after an animal her neighbors from the ground floor, but Melanie had no idea who was living there. Sometimes she saw a little boy who was entering the apartment. Judging by the boy, her neighbors were Koreans, and that's all that could be said.

With thoughts full of hamsters and Koreans, Melanie put a bag on a nightstand, hung her green jacket in a closet and went into the bathroom.

"Maybe I should eat at first?"

She looked at herself in a mirror. There, in a reflection, was a black T-shirt which she bought about five years ago at a clearance sale. Pale hands stuck out from the shirt and there was a round face of the same paleness with glasses and black hair, cut in a manner of a Japanese bob, just a bit longer.

"Someone has already told me that, ironically, Melanie was not black at all, but I know that my mother loves some actress with the same name. Well, at least I justify my name with my hair. Thanks to the paint. Should I change the color at the vacation? In blue, for example. Or red. If I dye it in white, I'll probably look like a snowman. Then it will be possible to go on a vacation to the homeland of ancestors, somewhere to Siberia. They were not exile during the revolution, so it's time to catch up. What a glorious procrastination, but I have to do all the work and go to bed early."

About a couple of hours ago, Melanie received a new order. It had to be done by another girl, but she broke her leg, unsuccessfully jumping with a parachute. Everything could end worse, but she just missed a really good order. Of course, the heads quickly realized that the best employee of the month who had just arrived from a business trip would be able to cope with this task. Melanie received SMS and, quick throwing her luggage, took a taxi to a supervisor's office. Less than an hour of road, and she flew into the office of her boss, taking a breath.

'Did you hear that building of the "Mare Tranquillitatis" was finished?' supervisor asked.

'Is it a hotel for very, very important people? Of course, I heard. Judging by the name, there must be extremely strange characters. Almost extraterrestrial.'

'Whatever it was, the customer pays well, so that parcels will be delivered to the addressees. I do not know exactly who the sender is, since they work with us through another organization. Obviously, someone is very big. At least because their intermediary is S-n-S.'

'What a strange choice? S-n-S is a large retailer, but ...' Melanie looked at the boss.

'Apparently, in parcels, something of their goods, and the purchase was made by our customer. The goods were delivered from the office of S-n-S, but we will drive a nail home to the head. You are especially. And a very important point: there are certain rules how to deliver cargo.'

'Do I have to wear our corporate growth suit?'

'So, first, of course, it is forbidden to open parcels. An exception is a direct request from the recipient. Those who can ask for an opening of the parcel are marked with a number one. Secondly, a mandatory signature is required from the recipient, except when the recipient is marked with the number two. In this case, the signature can be neglected. The customer will be notified in a special way. In some cases, you can open the parcel without a decree from the recipient. The mark is three, respectively. Of course, do not forget to leave them to the recipient.'

'So, those strange people from the hotel know who the customer is?' the girl asked.

'Maybe, but I do not know. I have parcels, there is a list and there are rules. Could we continue?'

'Yeah, sure'

'The last rule is that you will get a special bonus if you deliver the last package to an addressee and get a signature from him. It is indicated that this will not always be possible. Also, the last recipient is included in the list of those with whom the signature is not required to receive. You can also open the parcel without his request.'

'Is there another psycho? If he's abnormal, then I'll use a shocker, I swear.'

'Be guided by circumstances. I have no other information.'

"As always. As always. Do not forget to put a shocker. And a pepper spray. I wonder if I can get permission for a gun. It never entered my head. I learn it how to finish the job."

Melanie finished her long shower, climbed out on a rubber mat, wrapped herself in a bathrobe and looked in the mirror - because of hot water her cheeks became a little pink. She loved this robe, brought from Central Asia. It is warm in winter, but in summer it is not hot. Melanie always believed that, no matter how long the towel was, it looks good only in those films where it is showy thrown down.

"And in real life, it could simply be carried away by wind on a balcony, or goblins dragged off it into a sewer. Anything can happen. The bathrobe is simply more convenient. "

The girl was firmly convinced of an existence of goblins. One night, she clearly saw how several small creatures dragged through a window the pair of her shoes. She could not found these shoes, by the way. Creatures were equated with fantasy monsters, and Melanie periodically waited for their invasion.

It was just enough time for a snack before she would go in a bed. There in refrigerator was a month's supply of peanut butter, milk, a little bit stale baguette, a few cans of cola, and dried meat, whose origin for Melanie was a secret. Of course, nothing special can happen with jerky meat, but initially thoughts were around butter, so the baguette was cut in two along, and sandwiches were already on the plate. Nearby was a glass of milk, and the best chef in the world contemplated his creation.

"No, you will not upload it to the social network. You go on a vacation, there will be an exotic cuisine and you can degrade to one's heart's content."

With the sandwich and the glass of milk, dropping crumbs to the floor, the girl approached to the window. The district was calm. Music played somewhere far away, it was 2pac or something similar, but this was the only thing that broke an idyll of the pre-suburbs. "One-storied" streets started a little further, compared to which an area under the windows of Melanie was a loud downtown. Suddenly, a fly began to fly before her eyes. It was making so wild pirouettes, as if it had just collided in the air with its kinsman. The "Flight of the Bumblebee" automatically appeared in her head, drowning out poems of street poets about "whip, hoes and crook". The fly dived down, Melanie looked after it and her eyes were stopped by a crown of a stranger's head. He stood under windows, almost at the very entrance of the house, but the girl almost could not see him. Melanie carefully opened the window and let cold air of early spring into the room. The odd stranger, who was dressed in a black cloak and a black suit underneath, just stood under windows and looked at the entrance to the building. He did not move, did not look at windows. It was looked like he waited someone from this building. Melanie noticed that when she looked at this person, her head started to throb painfully.

"What an unpleasant character. Even makes me feel sick"

A crazy thought arose. The girl took a piece of paper, crumpled it and threw it at the man. Successfully hitting, Melanie jerked to hide from a sight, but was convinced that it all did not make sense, because the man did not even stir.

'Are you okay?'

No response.

"It's so cold outside! Let him stand. Probably crazy. I live high, he cannot climb, and he will not get into the entrance either. And the head really hurts. Probably, I just need to sleep."

Melanie closed the window, turned on a TV-show and fell into a huge bed, which was picked up so that she could be equally to sleep along and across it.

"I wonder what weather will be tomorrow. I would ride a bike. But the other side, I should go through the whole city. The shocker. Put the shocker. This lunatic can be there in the morning."

### Enter the Depth

The wasteland. It was lonesome, distant from people, located behind a wall of small suburban houses, which guarded the business-center and elite apartments with price like a cost for a plane, from the mysterious tower: the hotel "Mare Tranquillitatis", built for special people. The "Mare Tranquillitatis" stretched on the cracked earth, which gave life to some thorns. The land on which cans of Coca-Cola and beer were rolling. The land over which plastic bags were flying and trying to overtake tumble-weeds.

Melanie still took a chance and cycled. It was very warm for such a challenge, but it was not too hot for a multi-hour trip through the city. Getting up early, the girl went into a morning gloom and drove along empty roads. No traffic jams, no horrible traffic, no crowds on sidewalks. No hipsters, hanging from monopods across the street. No feminists with their meetings. Idyll and emptiness. With slight fatigue in her legs, she reached the point "B" and surveyed a vast wasteland with a black beveled spire at the end of a long narrow stony path leading through a landscape that referred to post-apocalypse. There were gothic-style lights along the path. It looked, at least, inappropriate. Only an old barn, which was in the middle of the road to the entrance, surpassed lanterns.

"I admit that the hotel may need some household buildings, but it looks at least ridiculous, especially when a parking is located so far from the entrance. There are could be located a parking space instead this building." these were girl's thoughts while she was fastening the bike to a pillar.

"It is unlikely that someone will steal it, of course. We're not in China. But this way it will stand, and will not lie in this dust. In general, a strange place. It was possible to build in some more comfortable entourage. For example, a pretty forest is not far from my house. Nothing would have to be chop. There is a big edge, where oaks stand. I love oaks. But I'm probably not a so important person. They love a comfort of scorched earth."

The fact, that all windows were on the other side of the building, made the hotel more horrible. The guests should look at the wasteland which went far beyond the horizon. To the one who was going to visit the eccentric Hotel, there was a door with a neon sign, a barn, and a small window - obviously a room for a servant or some warehouse.

"Is not enough the barn for them, or what?"

She was only at the start of a way to the "Mare Tranquillitatis", when a restless sea collapsed from the sky.

"I did not take a jacket or an umbrella. But I took a shocker. Damn, it's all going to get wet now. Faster into the barn."

Fortunately, the door to the tumbledown building was open. The roof was almost intact, so it was possible to hide from water. Melanie looked around.

"It looks like a stall, and here, on the walls, were attached bunks, I suppose. Maybe this barn was left by builders? Maybe they were living here while building this enormous building. But why it was not demolished? I still say it, this is a good place to a parking lot. They could put it even closer, but ... what's the point? There are it is not here too. My father's inner Jew would lose his mind, with such an incorrect development of space and an embezzlement of the budget. And of course it was necessary to put these luxury lanterns out there... "

About the Jew, Melanie did not talk through one's hat. She had one fourth of Russian, Norwegian, Jewish and Gaelic blood. The first took the upper hand and she inherited her mother's fair hair. She also got a tendency to corpulence, peculiar to all relatives on the maternal line. She tried to restrain it by physical exercises, but every day Melanie cursed her desire to eat a couple of excellent burgers with a couple of cans of cola. And a bottle with the red label was in her bag now.

"Should I buy an exercise bike?"

Melanie went further. She found several hooks hanging from the ceiling. Under them were crimson spots.

"No, it's unlikely that builders lived here. If only they did not have fresh pork for dinner."

The further part of the barn was cut off by a dense brick wall, which, however, was corroded at the bottom, due to water dripping from above through a hole in the roof. There was also a door in the wall which was slightly below a height typical for a human.

"I can assume that this is for livestock, but it's so solid, as if there are miniature elephants on the other side. In addition, I see the possibility of hanging five padlocks here. Also the fact that it is locked now. I will not be surprised if it opens only when you knock on correct bricks in the wall. And even easier - knock on the wall of the barn. This wooden structure does not survive in a good storm. If it happens, the wasteland will be adorned by this beautiful wall with a protected door."

Melanie picked the wall in a damaged area. It immediately began to crumble.

"Or maybe not."

The rain was still pounding on the walls, and the girl decided to beguile with examine her hideout more thoroughly. There was a workbench near the entrance. A bunch of old tools and all sorts of nails was there. Covered with a layer of dust and rust, they have not been used for years. A vise was fixed to the edge. It was in the same condition with other things. The mechanism had not worked for a long time, and a thread was stuck in it. Melanie touched it. It was stretched like a string. It became immensely interesting where an end was, and the girl, trying not to tear the thread, began to repeat the exploit of Theseus. On the surface of the table. Then under the table, in filth. Among legs of chairs, old rags, some spare parts and a pair of soaked and irretrievably spoiled books, a casket was discovered. It was wrapped by thread many-many times. Melanie pulled the box on herself, but everything was tangled up, and there was so much thread that it was not easy to open the box. She took a small knife, which was a keychain on the keys from the house. The case was of course difficult, but was not a climbing cable, and Melanie eventually coped. There was a mash of cotton wool and pieces of paper, smeared with a dark red, almost brown, substance. Someone pulled out all velvet and soft filler, replacing it with this garbage's improvisation, which had a strange smell. There, inside these bloody bowels, was found a piece of white fabric, as if it cut off from some clothes made of cotton, and inside a small flash drive, which looked like a key.

"Someone's little cache? The way I look, it has long been here. Judging by the amount of dust, webs and rust, despite the fact that it is very difficult to rain get here. Most likely, the rust has grown because of the wet wall. Most likely, nobody needs it."

'Nobody needs it. You're right.'

Melanie jumped up and down.

'You can take it to yourself!'

'Almost, have to.'

The girl slowly turned on where she stood. Two creatures, which remotely resembled people, were before her. One was with a bare torso, in a skirt of rough leather and a diamond-shaped mask. Sharp claws peeked from under the skirt. His partner was dressed in a beaky mask and a colorful cloak, which did not hide the most interesting part. This interesting thing caused Melanie nausea. Legs were not there, and huge bird's clutches were tightly attached to stumps.

'Who...? What are you ...?'

'You should go.'

'Shoo!'

There were darkness in eyes for a second, and suddenly Melanie was already standing in the wasteland in front of the shed's door, on which hanged a heavy lock.

"What was that? Do I need more sleep? Or tired of riding? Or is it psychotropic rain?"

May be it was hallucinations or whatever else, but she was squeezing something small and hard in the fist. And it was the flash drive. The small flash drive was looked like a key.

"I will think about this later. My customers are waiting me. But I'll keep that flash drive. Even I was imagining these creatures, because of lack of sleep, they, in any case, gave me permission."

'Are there no towels?'

The rain was over. The stone path glistened underfoot. The barn smelt of decay, mustiness and rotten rags. The cracked soil greedily absorbed water.

"I should go more carefully. Stones, ground - everything is slippery. Fall into a dirty puddle is the last thing what I need. Nothing works here like it should be."

No matter how she tried to concentrate on the work, two creatures from the shed still kept rising up before Melanie's eyes. She started to remember that the one who were in the skirt, had bone growths resembling thorns on its shoulders. But its bird's paws sent shivers down the spine most of all. It came out of a clear blue sky - she saw them at the last couple of nights in her restless dreams.

"The theater. Or what it was? The strange dream. Every time the same thing. At the end, one of them pulls off the fabric. It's they for sure. But what did happen to them? The shrill one looked like as if someone turned it inside out. So, did I sleep there, too? When I finish this order, I'll sleep. I'll lie in bed for three days, wake up, eat canned strawberries and fall asleep again. I will turn on "Friends" on DVD, and go on."

The entrance was illuminated by neon lights, which could have been turned off for a long time ago. The name of the hotel was written in Latin on a signboard.

'So, the "Mare Tranquillitatis"?'

"Inside, I suppose, everything is decorated with platinum and silks? A total lack of taste. Grotesque bad taste."

Inside the "Mare", however, was totally hi-tech. It was even a little uncomfortable. All in gray, blue and green colors. Walls were stylized as microcircuits. Sometimes there was something from Giger's style. The floor was covered with monochrome tiles. An elevator was dead ahead. And a small door was near, to the right. Neither the receptionist nor anyone else been here, but the terminal was in the center of the hall. It suddenly turned on. Melanie approached. The display was covered by ones and zeros. Then a dialog box popped up.

Hello.

You are in the guest status.

If you got wet in the rain, go to the room on the right.

Use the elevator to climb floors.

15th floor is closed for visiting.

Please avoid smoking in the elevator and areas of the hotel.

"Into the room on the right. Maybe there are towels or hair dryer? It would be nice. In general, I suspect that it is not a care. Just to be sure that I will not dripping their floor with water and will not leave dirty footprints."

The room was closed with a small sliding door which was made of gray metal. On the other side a wooden staircase was leading up to the room itself. Only a small cupboard with light bulbs was there from high-tech. Walls were made of ordinary red brick. A large arched window was also laid with a brick. A mirror and some construction of boards stood near the wall. Clothes hung on a metal rack which was opposite the mirror. There were checkered green-white trousers and a T-shirt with a logo of the "Nirvana" group. Sneakers stood under a crossbar in the bag.

"So, is everything so straight seriously? But why are clothes exactly of my size?"

The girl applied clothes to herself. Obviously, things were new and fit completely.

"Maybe my goblins are working in this hotel. Did they prepare everything and hide? Well ... I like it. I hope there are no cameras here."

Denim capri, the favorite T-shirt and sneakers were placed in three packages, a bunch of which were found in the cupboard. Instead, she put on a new wardrobe. Melanie inspected everything, but did not find cameras. But she had stupid feeling that someone was looking at her through brick's window. She looked in the mirror.

"So, this is definitely not a sin to post food in Instagram in this. I look like 18 years old again and I'm going to college. Oh... five years have passed since the graduation. With this work, time flies imperceptibly. Now, I should go."

Rubbing glasses with the edge of the T-shirt, Melanie went down the ladder, went into the hall. The same terminal issued "Welcome" and died. She called the elevator. There was a feeling that the hotel was absolutely empty, so loud was an echoing eerie from the elevator descended. Sensors peeped, doors opened with rustles.

"So, what the floor is it?"

## ~ Act II ~

### 4 | Demise

The elevator slowly was going up. The fourth floor button was pressed, but to all appearances a distance between floors was not normalized. Doors were not too dense and it shook slightly while elevator moved. Something to see in the gap was impossible, but sometimes light was beating from there. The white patches of dense rubber material did not let doors rumble, like music from a console of DJ, who specialized in dubstep. The elevator in general was extremely new. Melanie was ready to swear that she had never seen so new elevators.

"Class. The class obliges. Maybe they change the elevator every day. And that's why such a gloss. It's even cozy here. I do not know how they do it. And I wonder how much it costs to rent a room? For an hour. For a minute. Maybe I should come here for a day instead of vacation. Of course, I cannot do it."

To take a number in the "Mare Tranquillitatis" was possible only by a special invitation, which could only be obtained from certain persons. They should found you by themselves. What criteria did you need to comply with? Unknown.

Melanie looked dully at the panel, where red LEDs were a three. And it clearly did not want to change. The elevator was still going fast, but did not reach the desired fourth floor, the button of which was pressed on the control panel.

"Maybe the button does not work? But somewhere it goes."

And it went on. Fast, but as if it was hard. Mechanism was a gently clanging with the same amplitude as if somewhere there was a small chink. Doors were deafly tapping.

The elevator slowed down. And again a little bit. And slower. And further. And so to a complete stop, what made the girl more than happy. She approached the door, and it unnaturally loud opened, but the sound seemed to be even good-naturedly clucked. Melanie stepped out of the elevator, and it immediately closed. Absolutely smooth and noiseless for now.

"It behaves strangely. Do they have any book of complaints? An elevator in such a place like this should work normally. However, if their terminal sent me to change clothes, then maybe the elevator does not respect me either."

There was no corridor outside the elevator. Melanie was immediately got to someone's apartment, which was painted in so horribly pink color that the girl involuntarily became to feel sick. Everything around was like a doll house. Ruffles and ruches, napkins, pink walls, pink furniture, pink dishes, which, by the way, were very dirty and lie into a sink. Cockroaches sluggishly crawled along scraps. They were clearly alien to this, for they were not pink at all. They moved their feelers, as if to say that they did not care. But what was the most strange - a host of the room was still out of sight. Melanie walked around the living room twice, trying not to breathe deeply.

"And this is the elite..."

In the room a round table stood with a pink tablecloth, and teddy bears of the corresponding colors were sitting in chairs. No one was here. Then she went back to the kitchen with its pink cupboards and red cockroaches. Cockroaches did not tell her where the recipient was either. The girl sat down at the kitchen table. In a transparent jug was, as it turned out, orange juice. A clean glass stood nearby. Nothing swam in juice as well.

"Fresh. As if someone is waiting for guests."

Melanie poured juice, took the glass and looked into large kitchen windows. They were arched like the one in the cloakroom. It was strange, but the main paradox was in another, and Melanie did not even immediately realize what was wrong.

"But there's nothing on this side. Empty and naked! Windows should look the wasteland."

Windows said the opposite. Through a thick glass it was clear that the rain had now decided to go on forever, and it was flooding something what looked like a fair. Moreover, the fair was clearly closed and abandoned. Emptiness, dilapidation. Rust sharpened metal crippling. An inflatable clown of enormous size was soaring in the air. Melanie never liked clowns. When she was asked - why, she always referred to a psychological trauma received as a result of watching "It" by Stephen King. In fact, she did not read the book and never watched the movie. She did not have a clear answer, but an absence of reason caused more and more questions.

Suddenly a husky voice came from behind.

'Do you like juice? I specifically squeezed out.'

"At least I was not mistaken."

Melanie turned around. The fourth-floor guest was in front of her. And the way how she looked made Melanie give a start.

"My client. My addressee. My ripped eyes."

As it turned out, a woman of about forty-five was living in that room. For sure, it was not strange at all. Even a pink color could sometimes be forgiven. Even so much pink. But the woman looked weird. Really weird. She was pretty beautiful. But her clothes caused doubts about mental health. A white blouse, a denim dress with the image of Mickey Mouse, blonde hair pulled into braids. White tights and blue sandals were on legs. The face was covered with white ceruse and rouge was over it. Obviously, she did not use ordinary cosmetics. Movements, facial expressions, intonations were the same like if she was a child. Only a hoarse smoky voice betrayed her. And yellow from nicotine teeth, with which she nibbled her nails and little pieces skin on her fingers.

'Your name is Melanie, right? Come on, let's play. Do you like the juice? How's your juice, Melanie?'

The girl was taken aback by such hearty hospitality.

'Are you waiting me SO much?'

"Probably she was warned about the arrival of the courier, what my name is, that I drink cola, eat up peanut butter and I like to review the "Toy Story" when no one see me.'

'I know everything about you. Today you will be my eldest sister. Let's go! You're already at high school, yes. Tell me about the boys!'

'Ehm...'

"Yes. A high school student. Of course. Gosh, how flattering. Especially from insane. But you found a not so good teacher, I'll tell you straight."

'Come on, let's play!' the woman whimpered.

'But I must give you a parcel...'

Melanie shrugged her shoulders. The woman, screaming with joy, pushed her out of the kitchen. Realizing that it would not work, and hoping that she would not be killed and not given for pig's feed, Melanie went to where she was being pushed.

"Please, not for feed. Let it be souvenirs. Pretty pink bone cups."

They passed through the hall. Then Melanie saw a door, which almost joined with a wall. The mad woman took a small pink key from her sun-dress's pocket and, after inserting it into the keyhole, turned it three times. The lock clicked and music started. As if from the door itself. It was look like a strange woman started a music box. Only this music gave Melanie the jitters. A merry tune, analogous to music from children's TV shows. But obscure music like if a TV show was Candle Bay. It played out of tune here and there. And the mechanism, which played it, obviously, did it with difficulty. It all creaked, buzzed, clanked. And then the melody suddenly stopped.

'Do you like my room?'

A yell of the strange woman brought Melanie out of her stupor. She looked around. The aging little girl stood with Melanie in the middle of the room. Bedroom and the rest of the apartments were as different as heaven and earth. Obviously, everything matched some time ago. Bed, wallpaper, furniture were in the same pink color, but it also was covered by a few layers of dirt. Wallpapers fell off partly and hung down like the ears of a basset hound. One of legs of the bed was propped up by a book that had been there for many years, but Melanie could read that it was "It" by Stephen King.

"Come on!"

An empty aquarium stood in the corner on a dirty nightstand. Probably, someday in the past there was some unfortunate animal in this fish tank. Perhaps remains of this mortal creature rested under a bunch of twigs, dry foliage and some kind of trash. However, now this garbage could be filled by cockroaches or smaller insects.

'What is your name?'

'Susan,' she said with a serious tone, but, still, with the same childlike voice.

'Good. Do you live here?'

'Yes. This is my room.'

'And ... are you here alone?'

'Mom and Dad should be back soon. They left me and told to wait. But I'm not bored. Visitors come to me. And also I have my cat. He is sleeping somewhere. I fed him a fish. He loves tuna!'

'Good. And how old are you?'

'Seven. Almost eight. I'm an adult already.'

Melanie hardly restrained herself for to roll one's eyes.

"Just like I thought."

'Yes. Yes, of course. I have no doubt, Susan.'

'It seems my cat is here somewhere. In the room. Kitty-kitty-kitty! Do you hear it?'

'Um... no, Susan.'

'He's hiding somewhere. He always hides. He climbs somewhere and sleeps. And then again he purrs and asks to eat. Now I will find him and show you. He's so wonderful. Kiiiiitty!'

Sensing the protracted action of idiocy, Melanie began to search for a topic for conversation. She looked around the room while Susan was running around and scattering things, muttering "kitty-kitty" and picking up dust. And here was salvation. Cubes were on the floor. But they were all strange. It looked more like a mosaic. Everything had a different form, and Susan already had connected several together. It turned out something like a square letter "U".

'Susan, you have such interesting cubes.'

The woman immediately left the search and ran joyfully to Melanie.

'Yes. Yes. My dad gave them to me. He said that I need to construct something with them. But I have not made anything yet.'

She twirled a couple of cubes in her hands. Taking the red, Susan gave it to Melanie.

'Look. There's a hole inside. They are attached to each other in this way. I connected six dice, but others do not fit.'

Melanie inspected the cube and returned it to Susan.

'And you brought me something, yes, Melanie!'

'Oh, yes,' the girl was happy with an opportunity to escape. 'Wait a second.'

A shapeless package was in the bag. There with a highlighter was written only "Susan" and number 4. It looked as if it was written by this woman, because the handwriting looked suspiciously like a child's.

"Maybe it is from some of her friends. The same as she. With a long childhood."

'This is your package. Can you write?'

'Of course! I was taught by my father. I do not go to school. I'm sick. Dad said that when I am well, we will go to the fair, and I will be able to start going to school!'

"At the fair that I saw outside the window, I suppose? If the image there is artificial, then the joke is bad."

'Write your name here.'

Melanie gave a form and started to understand that she was doing some stupid kind of work or stupidity was happening around. Susan put out a tongue with a white thin coating and wrote scribblings of her name. Melanie could not make out anything. Accuracy here, of course, was not required. The customer requested only a signature, and Melanie received the signature.

"One is done."

'Come on! I want to see! Want! Want!' Susan stretched out hand, covered with age spots.

Melanie twirled a parcel in her hands and held out it to the woman. Susan joyfully tore up the packaging, and with a happiest scream, took out four cubes of different shapes.

'I will succeed now.'

She began to conjure over her square-shaped "U", trying to fit cubes in different ways. Melanie even became interested. She leaned over the macabre action created by Susan.

'I've done.'

The done figure "4" was on the floor.

'Is what you had to make, Susan?' Melanie turned to the woman in bewilderment.

Sitting with a stupid look, Susan seemed to look through her "older" sister, which she had started to love in one moment. She was smiling happily.

'Dad, can I go to the fair? I'm not sick anymore. I absolutely recovered.'

Her voice changed. It became even more crackling. Her skin looked like parchment and started to pass light. Susan became more and more like a doll with every moment and only two burning with joy eyes stood out on a plastic background. Then it went out too and Susan literally began to melt. Her face slowly blurred, her fingers blurred, turning her hand into a shapeless sphere. At the end of the process, a skeleton, resembling a plastic one, collapsed into a puddle of waxy skin and viscera near feet of Melanie.

'My planned vacation will be more like a drinking bout. After last time, I promised myself not to drink, but now I do not see any choice.'

The puddle on the floor gurgled.

"Ugh."

Melanie got up, put the bag on her shoulder and went out of the dusty room into pink rooms. But they were no longer the same. Everything was faded and withered, and cockroaches were piles of corpses. The view outside the window was replaced by pitch-darkness.

"I think it's better not to drink juice now. It's a pity that I did not have time to try."

The girl fished a bottle of cola from her bag, took a sip and moved to the elevator, which greeted her. The button of the next floor was pressed, the door closed with an easy tap. Suddenly, Melanie realized that there was someone else in the elevator. Turning around, she did not see anyone. But when the girl looked down, she saw a gray striped cat. He was lazily licking himself while sitting in the corner.

'Was she looking for you?'

The cat purred, but did not answer of course.

### 13 | Dreamweb

The door apparently closed somehow wrong in this time, because with an increase in lifting height, a number of extraneous sounds issued by the cabin and the mechanism increased too. The door was trembling, as if it did not hold strongly. Leaves of the door rubbed each other with a crash. It intensified with every minute. Nevertheless, Melanie still thought that this elevator the standard of novelty and quality.

"It began to behave like the old one for some reason. What was a cause of that, I can only imagine. To be honest, I can't divest myself of the idea that it was upset because of Susan. The reason is in a technique or in mood - I do not know. A lot of strange things happen here and after all that I've seen I can finally expect only an appearance of my little goblins-thieves. But I have a cat! It's mean something, isn't it?"

'Can you catch goblins?'

The cat narrowed his eyes and then, with huge pupils, stared at something on the wall. Melanie followed his gaze and noticed that the panel began to flash in different colors, as if someone had used it as a synthesizer for a cheerful melody. The melody itself arrived with a little delay. It was a little smeared and such strange that a horde of creeps began to capture cities on the body of the listener.

"This is not an elevator-music, but something that is clearly familiar."

Two voices - a masculine, low and husky, and the other one of languid female - which Melanie heard behind her, explained her doubts. It was starting broadcasting from dispatcher speakers of the elevator with some noise sounds on the background.

"It's the same show that went 10 years ago, and then it was covered up, and there was some myth that they were broadcasting on empty frequencies on the radio and on the blocked channel on YouTube."

M: ... It has begun.

W: Are you sure?

M: Of course. Look, rain. And it goes every day. And my glass is half empty.

W: This is not an indicator. Pour yourself more. You're still better at broadcasting when you have a snoot full.

M: Your truth. Give me bourbon.

W: After bourbon, dreams are the most real thing in the world.

M: And we like it!

W: By the way, how did we resume broadcasting?

M: We have a thousand ways to do this. But it is rather an imitation of broadcasting within imitation of a dead air.

<Applause>

W: On the phone, our special cor...

The air was stuffed with noises. The elevator suddenly came back to normal and started to slow down. The invisible hand ceased to randomly poke on buttons. The heavy steel door opened, clutching something with a metallic squeak. Melanie hoped that every part of the elevator was in all right places, because the list of recipients was long, and she did not observe stairs in the building.

The cat meowed and left the elevator, examining and sniffing a new room.

'You're smart, are not you? The look is meaningful. So, what is your name?'

Melanie sat down next to the animal. He sniffed air with a pink nose. A small soft collar with an inscription was on the neck.

'Mr. Cat. Is that your name? Just Mr. Cat? Your owner, obviously, did not have an abundant fantasy.'

Mr. Cat purred, confirming in any case that he exactly liked the name, and in general the situation suits him completely. So this was done. Melanie returned to the task - to visit the next loony addressee.

"So he likes this situation, but it's not suit for me. The man died just near me, with very oddly death. Should I report about it to anyone?"

With oppressive thoughts about the elevator's possibilities to go downstairs, Melanie followed the cat along a corridor of another room. Its walls resembled the hotel lobby - the same cold relief metal, with the microchips decoration. Only, this time, cards looked like real, and in deepenings there were wires. Thin and thick power cables alternated with optics and twisted pair. Also there were audio cables in some places and some wires which were unknown to Melanie. This synthetic web became more and more with every step. It would be very appropriate if something like a skeleton from the Terminator but with eight paws appeared. Instead, there was a table covered with a blue tablecloth, and newspapers. The old telephone stood on the table and was connected to a cable which was differing from others with a bright yellow color. Its length was barely enough, and the phone seemed to be connected to a claymore-mine. The bomb exploded when Melanie approached.

"By the way, here's the phone. I can call the police and an ambulance, but now someone is trying to call here, and I will have to wait."

The phone did not stop.

"Well, this call is not for me, isn't it? I cannot take the phone when I am in someone else's room. This is somehow wrong. It's impolite and so on."

Calls continued.

"Still, it does not shut up. Should I pick up the phone? I want to call."

Melanie held out her hand, and then the calls stopped. Picking up the phone, the girl was convinced that there were no hooters.

'Hmm ... Hello?'

The line was dead. Silence was almost palpable. It became even uncomfortable. Throwing the phone, Melanie suddenly realized that she could make a call from her mobile phone.

"You can easily order a room in this hotel. You remember about stationary city phones, but do not remember the mobile in your bag. Well done. You're so clever girl!"

Unfortunately, there was no connection. Wandering from corner to corner, the girl did not find a single sign of connection. She left this idea. Mr. Cat, obviously unwilling to wait for the end of the creation problems from scratch, was already lost in bowels of the corridor.

'Hey, kitty, the host may be unhappy if you will wander up and down the room!'

The cat meowed in response. The third interlocutor immediately entered in their dialogue.

'Who is there?'

'Excuse me. This cat ... he's from the fourth floor. He followed me.'

Melanie almost ran along the corridor, which was more and more entangled with wires. The illusion that the walls contained the wires grew stronger with every step into deep. Some equipment appeared. Something buzzed and flashed diodes, something was broken, including physically, judging by the wires sticking out and the pieces of reinforcement that stuck inside. Melanie had no time to consider this - she was in a hurry to take the cat from there, where he was not called.

A room without corners was at the end of the corridor. It was filled with server cabinets, air conditioners, heaps of scrap metal and a dense pattern of cables of different thickness, some of which were cut or torn. Melanie stepped over all the damaged cables, which were lying under her feet, with fear to be fry. Wires covered all violet-black shallow tiles that a local decorator applied to the entire room. It was necessary to get into the very center of the oval office, where, surrounded by a dozen monitors, the recipient of another extremely important parcel sat. The cat wasn't within eyeshot.

'So what did you say about the cat?' a guy in Lacoste polo asked, turning to Melanie.

'The cat is running around here...somewhere. Beautiful one, striped, in a collar. He belongs to strange woman from the fourth. But ... I think she's dead.'

'If it were up to me, I would not know anyone here. They're all crazy. A trickle of crazy, but very lucky characters in the divine tragedy.'

'You live here too.'

'I would not say that I'm here of my own free will. My superiors have entrusted me with an important mission. I would like to say that this is a mission to save the world, but even if it would be so, it is not the real world, but rather digital. In any case, something went wrong, and I got here. I'm still trying to fix it, to be honest, but if you take into account all the events, I again screwed up.'

'The digital world?' Melanie asked.

'A simulation one. A kind of a framework, I would say. I was on a development team once, but I do not think it will interest you.'

'Probably, I do not even understand what you are talking about. And yet... This Susan, from the fourth. She has died. Do you have a phone? I think I'm out of my coverage area.'

'There is no cell communication. There are no city telephones either. And do not worry, someone has already been sent for her. We're not somewhere in a tower-block in boondocks, and she's not a poor lonely cat lady.'

'Are no city telephones? You have the phone in the corridor. It even called when I came.'

'It's inner. People at the charge of it keep in touch on this one.'

'Are those who give out invitations?'

'Something like that.'

Suddenly, another monitor turned on. There popped up series of dialog boxes, then something resembling a messenger and a command line. The light of the display made possible to see the person sitting in the armchair, who at the moment was enthusiastically considering what was appearing on the screen. He was skinny, with red eyes and swollen lids. Stubble looked like a week-old and already passed into a beard. In addition to the polo of the fashion brand, he was dressed in shabby jeans. On the right hand there was a tattoo, but it was difficult to make out what it pictured from place where Melanie was. When he finished tapping in the messenger, he turned again.

'My name is Kenny.'

'Kenny... Keeenny...' Melanie looked through the list. 'Found it. It is interesting, but you are noted so that you are able to not sign in a line about a receipt of the parcel.'

The computer genius was stirring to action noticeably, moved closer and peered into the blank.

'This is understandable, I guess. I may not be in place, for example. Unlike Susan, who cannot call the elevator by herself. Or the character, who you'll visit next. If he leaves, he is unlikely to be able to return.'

Melanie was already beginning to ask what was strange with her next addressee, but Kenny pulled Budwiser's package from under the table, took out two cans, and handed one to Melanie. Then he opened the second one and took two large sips.

'There is only dark. I do not really like light beer.'

'I do not like beer at all, but after this order I planned to get drunk, so - dark, bright, red - whatever.'

'Heavy order?'

'The strange lift, the strange woman who thinks she's seven ... almost eight ... Some kind of nonsense is behind windows. Then I got into this lair of Shodan.'

'It used to be worse. Now we turn to wireless, but the hotel administration is hard to get moving, and I just cannot take off the old equipment from here.'

'I would suggest throwing it in the window, but you are devoid of windows.'

'Maybe they are here? I do not remember. I'm like a Haitian zombie, whose past life was too long ago. My past life is windows.' he sipped his beer and looked thoughtfully at the monitors. 'Except, of course, these windows. Through them, I also see a lot, however.'

'By the way, I'm Melanie.'

'I know. We all sit here and wait for our parcels. Everything is strictly confidential. All through your service with special importance and urgency. Only with living people - no drones from Amazon.'

'Yes, we can deliver snow in the summer...'

They laughed. After another couple big sips, Kenny crushed the jar, threw it on the floor and proceeded to the next one.

'And you, Melanie, do you have a past life with windows? Perhaps, some order divided life into "before" and "after"?'

'I would say that the order from the military, because after it I cannot say much in a conversation with someone other than ... a cat, for example. But I rather remember a case when one journalist was hit by a van in front of me. It was happen five years ago, when I was office plankton. I understand that the van hit her not because of her profession, but thanks for that case I decided that I want to live somehow differently.'

'Oh... Did you work on boring adult work?'

'Yes. Just after college. I already wanted to go to this firm, but my parents keep it, and they were against it.'

'Family contract?'

'Kinda.'

They both took a sip of beer. Melanie sat down on an empty case from the system unit.

"I hope it could stand me. Kenny could offer a chair to a lady. But maybe he settles in this chair, of course."

'Interestingly, by the way,' broke the silence of Kenny. 'Before Romero zombies were created with the help of magic, but now these are quick and, sometimes, intelligent monsters. Mankind began to fear more real things. Virus, radiation...'

'The van.'

'Exactly.'

They finished their beer. Melanie's first jar. Kenny's the second, and he reached for a new one, but the girl understood that she had not right to sit here forever.

'So, I have, by the way, a very important parcel for you. Receive, sign, and I will go on.'

'Yes, I understand. You should to do everything in right time.'

Melanie removed the package from bowels of her bag. Kenny, leaving the signature in the form, accepted the parcel. The wrapping paper rustled and a small flash drive was shown up in the light of the display, similar to the one that Melanie found in the shed. There was also a key design, in this case.

'I certainly should not go into this, but what is it? Is this what you waited?'

'Of course, I waited. Most likely, this is the last key to completing the project.'

After plugging the flash drive into a small reader, Kenny turned it two times.

"It turns out that it has reason why they made in the form of a key."

The image on the screen had changed from the incomprehensible to Melanie to the equally vague.

'Well, I think I'll go. Nice to meet you and ...'

She stopped. Looking around the space, she saw some strange phenomenon. All around became blurred. And a reason was in the surrounding space, but not in eyesight or a sudden tumor in the skull. Kenny did not blur at all. And Melanie too, that she found out with a glance at her own hands, they were all right.

'Kenny, do you see that?'

'It seems they deceived me.'

The realization came. The darkness itself was moving in this room. The largest of its clots, as if it was concentrating between the wires, gathered into something large, slightly pulsating.

'I think we need to leave this place. This is another delirium. Like I said before.'

Now Kenny was blurring too. He looked at her silently, becoming translucent. Eyes and mouth had already changed places, now hands - one was on the back, the other went to the stomach. Legs were diminishing. Melanie jumped off the system unit and rushed from the room. Stepping over, like the last time, through the cables on the floor, she went to the exit and turned around. What was previously presented as Kenny, rose from the chair, leaning on hands. In the light of monitors there were two small human silhouettes which supported him. It was like two shadows that had moved into the 3D world. Dead monitors were the last key to deciding how to proceed further.

"I think I don't wanna know what will happen."

Melanie ran down the corridor to the elevator, which door was already open. Next to it Mr. Cat sat and meowed impatiently to the girl.

'I'm sorry, kitty, I can't go faster,' Melanie said with a breathy voice, flying into the elevator and pressing a button of the next floor.

The door closed behind her right in the moment when the cat also was inside. Something struck with an enormous power on the other side of the lift car, but the elevator went to the indicated floor.

'It's a pity. I liked him.'

### 23 | HOLES

The elevator was going up. It was still moving. Melanie even came up with the bad idea to press the first floor button.

"And for what? You'll go downstairs, you'll go to the parking lot, you'll sit on your bicycle, and then you'll call your dad and will be a crybaby?"

In addition to desire to be a good worker, something else was interfering. As if some inner voice told her that it was impossible to interrupt this action. Specifically to her. Specifically now. And if she did this, then the irreparable would happen.

She shouldn't forget that there was also the material side of income. This was important, as the plans for the vacation were very extensive. Mr. Cat, still as before, sat side by side. He quietly watched the board, the screen where the floor number was indicated, and sometimes licked himself. His appearance said - there was no need to worry.

'You're smart. You seem to understand what is happening more than me. I have a simple question for you. What was that now, damn it?'

Her throat was dry. Melanie took the bottle of Coke from her bag, opened it and took a sip of it, deciding to follow the cat's example and just to move on. It was easy to solve, but melted Susan and metamorphosis with Kenny still came back to Melanie.

The elevator lost the rest of its speed and crawled through floors as if it was stuck to the bottom of a shaft with something sticky and elastic. And now this something persistently prevented from elevator's going. Melanie and the cat continued to gaze the number twenty. It was clearly playing in the abyss, into which they looked too long. The abyss still could not gaze enough.

'Mr. Cat, do not you think it's strange? The elevator obviously changes its speed along the line. Am I right or am I right?'

The cat screwed up his eyes and purred.

'Good for you that you have absolutely no place to hurry...' the girl grumbled.

A miracle happened. Letting electronics to draw twenty-three on a small black screen, the elevator reached a destination so desired by its passenger. Melanie run to the door, but it did not open.

'What's the heck with this thing?'

Suddenly, as if it tugged with doubts, a third number appeared on the monitor, turning "23" into "323".

'What is this? Return how it was!'

The elevator, after a little bit thinking, changed it on "33".

'No, twenty-three! Come on!'

As if the elevator heard, displays showed "23", but the door did not react. Moreover, the light turned off.

'Ok, I'm sorry.'

"What's bullshit? I'm talking with the elevator and the cat."

'I understood at the last time that you are the elevator with your own mood. Do as you know. I'll go out and I will not bother you, okay?'

The light turned on, but the door did not react. Melanie went to the door and tried to unlock it. Of course, she did not succeed.

"Please, don't be broken! I don't see the call button of an elevator's operator."

She knocked on the door.

'Hey! Is there anyone? Please, can you let me out?'

The door opened and Melanie tumbled inside, rattling by empty cans, the knee and something in her bag.

"I hope I did not break anything."

She turned around. The cat was absolutely indifferent to her fall. Moreover, he lay on the floor of the elevator and prepared to sleep.

'And why are you tailing along with me? Why you would not sleep in your room, on the fourth? You could finish eating face of your owner. Or what was left of it. The wonderful life.'

The cat snorted. At that moment the door closed, plunging the cat into the darkness.

Melanie stood to her feet. The knee was harmed, the skin on the left palm was torn off, but in general everything was fine. Limping slightly with her aching leg, the girl moved forward along the corridor. A local architecture was extremely strange, and it led her to a room which architecture was probably the same. Walls of the corridor were rounded off here and there, and dead-end alleys branched off from the main way. Some of them had arched windows which was walled-up with bricks. The ceiling was constantly distorted and changed the height.

"Pah... How can anyone live here?"

There was light in one of the "blind" dead-ends. A small lamp was mounted in the wall. Melanie approached. The lamp, obviously, was attached so poorly, that it trembled with every of her step like a stray dog at the sight of the animal control. Melanie approached to the round-shape wall in the end of that branch and noticed an inscription that was scrawled most likely with a knife.

"Just walk down the corridor. I don't remember how to get out here."

The open-mouthed girl was looking at this message.

"Actually, come to think of it, Kenny had said something like that."

She did not pay attention to the fact that the apartment looks more than strange. It was already usual. But the owner of the apartment was lost in his own dwelling and that was extremely interesting.

Returning to the main corridor, the girl continued her way.

"How did this tunnel interfere in this building?"

There was a door. A lock code hung on it handle. One of that locks where you could put a code of 12 numbers. Only now no one bothered to close it. Melanie took off the lock, put it on the floor near the door, in case if someone late decided to use it, and went inside. A big hall met her with two doors in different directions. There was not much furniture. Perhaps, it was even some kind of ascetic-style. A table, a chair by the wall, a TV set on the floor, a small closet in the corner. The girl noticed that the closet had no doors or drawers. In addition, there were no legs - the closet stood on piles of books. They were all worn out, and there was nothing to see on the roots. Except for one book, the only thin one. It was easily to recognize the popular fairy tale about a girl in a magical oak forest.

A man of indefinite age appeared from the right door. He seemed to have lived in this crazy place. He was dressed for some reason in pants from pajamas and a basketball jersey. The earflaps were on his head. He looked around, obviously with difficulty understanding where he was at all.

'Are you okay?'

He jumped, not expecting to hear someone's voice. Turning, he stared at Melanie.

'And who are you?'

'I'm... The courier. Melanie is my name. And you?'

'Br... joe... vic... Hmm...'

'Do you not remember?'

'Wait.'

'Oh well. I'll wait, of course. I already wasted a hell of a lot time in the elevator, so... I will not feel the difference.'

Outside the window, which this time was with glass, drizzled with rain and there was an impermeable fog. Fog, apparently, also stood in the head of the host of the room. His name was not on the form by the way. There was a floor and there was a note that a signature was not required. Turning to the one who introduced himself as "Br-jo-vik," Melanie tried to continue the conversation, but the man, judging by the movements, intended to return to his room.

'Wait, I have for you...'

The man jumped out of skin again.

'Ah ... It's you, Catherine.'

'My name is Melanie. Yesterday was exactly this name. Yes, and nothing changed today.'

'Of course, Melanie. I perfectly remember. And I'm Daniel.'

'Just Daniel?'

'What do you mean?' the man stared absently into nowhere.

'Well, you said that your name is Daniel.'

'Me? What are you talking about, Kirstie?! Probably you did not hear. I'm Brian.'

'Really?'

'Well, yes. I have the most ordinary name.'

'Which is?'

'George. The most ordinary.'

'Good. Do you live here?'

'Who?'

'You. Do you live here?'

'Me? No.'

'And who is living here?'

'Where?'

'In this room.'

'Kate, you're driving me crazy. We're at a restaurant. And I'm clearly not its owner.'

'Let it be. I have to give you the parcel.'

'To me?'

'Yes, to you.'

'And who are you?'

'I'm the courier. I deliver especially important parcels and packages. My name ME-LA-NIE. But you have forgotten me on the "I'm".'

'And I'm Turner. Welcome, Melanie.'

Trying to keep remnants of the mind, Melanie tried to change the topic from names to something else.

'Why do you look so strange?'

'Why is strange? I was about to go somewhere, but then I wanted to sleep. Here. Almost prepared for bed.' he pointed to his trousers.

'And why do you need earflaps?'

'Which one?'

'These one.' Melanie took off earflaps from his head.

'Oh thanks. What did you do? I hear better now.'

'I took it from you...' Melanie handed him earflaps.

'And what is this? Is this yours? I had the same once.'

'And now you will have it again.'

The girl decided not to ask about the basketball jersey, because she realized that it would not lead to anything intelligent. Deciding to go away quickly, she began to rummage in her bag trying to find the parcel. The forgetful man sat down on the floor and clasped his head in his hands.

'Are you alright?'

His gaze seemed unusually enlightened and conscious.

'I was going to do something, but I forgot what. I forget everything. Everything. My name, where I am. I do not even know where I am now, and who you are...'

His glance faded again, and he stared with a silly smile at his shoes.

A scorched smell spread around. The man who had a thousand names and did not have a single one in the same time, instantly jumped to his feet and moved on to the smell.

'Oh, everything is ready for dinner.'

'Are you cooking anything?' Melanie looked at him in surprise.

"With such a short memory, I think he shouldn't leave the kitchen."

The host of the apartment went away, and then began to rumble. Melanie hurried after him. The view in the kitchen was extremely prodigious. Firstly, the kitchen itself was horrible. Spoiled foodstuffs were laying in bowls and packages. Insects were swarming in their pulps. There were old spots from sauces, food, something like blood on walls. A pile of broken dishes was in the sink. A broken window, where rain was pouring down and washing out some unimaginable mess on the windowsill. And secondly, the host himself and most likely the culprit of all chaos were engaged in something deviant. In his hand was a fork. He was kicking his foot a kettle, a heating element of which he held by a cable in the second hand.

'The damned kettle, the idiotic kettle!' he muttered.

'What did happen?'

He looked at Melanie with astonishment.

'And you..?'

'Never mind. What are you doing?'

'Me?' he looked at the kettle. 'I'm preparing a dinner.'

'Do you kick the kettle for this?'

'No. He is just broken. For some reason, everything around me breaks very quickly.' the man pointed to the refrigerator, where was something gray and fetid. 'And me, I'm broken too,' he laughed absently. 'So do you come to dinner?'

'Me? No, no. Thank you. I don't wanna.'

He took the kettle and threw it into the broken window.

'Hah, you're the Devil! It was so convenient before. I lived, you know, in a small house. In the countryside. I opened a window, and threw out garbage in it. I had a container right under the window. Convenient, huh?'

'Did you get confused by the smell from this container?'

The man did not answer. He threw a pan through the window, followed her with a joyous hoot and turned to Melanie. Something had changed on his face.

'Clara, I'm still your father. I want, at least, to dinner together sometimes.'

'What? What did you say?'

'Clara, sit down at the table.'

'Nope, I'm done. Here is your package. I'm leaving here.'

She took the parcel from her bag. The face of happy recipient changed dramatically.

'Finally. I've been waiting for it for so long!'

When the man began to unwrap the package, Melanie thought how quickly to step back without attracting attention. While she was deep in these thoughts strange events took her by surprise. Something was flowing from the refrigerator, like a living thing moving on the floor to their feet. The girl moved away, and the living puddle wrapped up the legs of the man, like tentacles or creepers.

'Mister Whatever-Is-Your-Name, look down. There's something...'

The man did not hear her. With joy in his eyes he held a dictaphone in his hand. He pressed the record button and began to speak.

'Clara, I want you to abandon this venture. They were here. I leave the house and go away to my room, in the "Mare Tranquillitatis". Take care of yourself. Do not stay here.'

"He's like an espionage agent. But for this he has a little memory. However, this is not my business. I remember that in Qatar there was a spy without legs - he did a great job."

The girl noticed that shadows of objects began to lengthen. They reached for the fetid liquid on the floor, as if they were trying to merge with it.

"Again this ... this ... I do not know how to call it."

'Get out of this puddle. Something is wrong with her. Mister...'

Forgetful recipient of the dictaphone finished the message and that seemed to sucked into a vile muck. The room was empty. Rubbing her eyes, Melanie found herself standing in the elevator. The lift car slowly but confidently moved away from the twenty-third floor. The girl turned around. Mr. Cat with a contented look sat behind her.

'How did I find myself here, huh? You know everything. Only you are silent. Damn it. The main thing is that it's not this strange room anymore. It's even worse than that baby woman. However, I do not know what will happen next. Maybe, after all, I should go down, look for staff. I'm even not sure that I can just wander around like this. I'm a bit late, but it's better late than never.'

And it seemed like Mr. Cat understood her last words and, uttering a shrill meow, walked around the girl and sat between her and the panel with buttons.

'Yes, of course I will go further. I just complain.'

She scratched the cat behind his ear and prepared to wait again until the ultra-slow cabin reached to...

'What is it?'

The elevator approached slowly, but confidently to the twenty-fifth floor.

"Very close. It does not take a lot of time."

As if catching her thoughts, the cat purred with support.

### Entract I

After an infinite amount of time, the number 23 on the matte display had not disappeared anywhere.

"23. 23. 23?"

'Heck, how long could it be?!'

An unexpected scream of Melanie made Mr. Cat jumped. The scream pulled him out from deep sleep. So deep as a feline tribe could sleep. Hardly, they could allow themselves to sleep as serenely as humans.

'I'm so sorry. It's just... we can't get out of the twenty-third floor about twenty minutes, but, however, we are moving. Maybe, to the left?'

Melanie laughed at her own joke. Suddenly, someone applauded and laughed in response.

'Who's there?!'

The girl inspected the elevator, but saw no one but the cat.

'I heard you, well...'

'Wait!' a slightly shrill voice answered

'Wait?'

'Yes. I'll be here in few minute!'

'Good. I will... wait. Where will I go?'

Melanie looked at the cat, which, in turn, looked attentively at the door.

'You know who should come, didn't you, Mr. Cat?'

There was a muffled purring in response.

"You know better. I'll have to rely on you."

The elevator hummed and diligently approached something. While the lift car overcame one floor, the girl had time to eat a chocolate bar which was found at the bottom of a fathomless bag. The journey moved off dead center. The display showed "24", and the elevator stopped.

'That's a new one! I need the twenty-fifth floor. Let's go higher!'

The cat went to Melanie, and, purring, started to rub her legs.

'Are you saying this is normal?'

The cat squinted, not ceasing to purr.

'Well... And what's next?'

The door sweep opened with loud noises. Deciding to step away from the elevator, the girl froze in perplexity. Instead of corridors of the twenty-fourth floor or apartments, something what could not have been at all on the twenty-fourth floor, appeared in front of her. The wasteland. Garbage, dry grass and some buildings on the horizon were there. Perhaps it was the same wasteland where the "Mare Tranquillitatis" stood. The sky over the wasteland tore and abundantly watered the scorched earth. But drops seemed to evaporate about two or three meters above the surface.

A man hurried through the wasteland. He quickly advanced, but his movements were confined by the long skirt. Leaving the elevator, Melanie walked towards him, but then it began to understand.

'Wait a minute.'

Melanie was approaching the frightening figure of one of infernal inhabitants of the shed. His beak-nosed companion was absent in this time.

'Melanie! I'm coming! Wait a lil' bit!'

He stopped in a one and a half meter from the girl. He exhaled, clattering with chains, which in this case were suspenders. Now, in a relatively calm environment, it could be possible to look him more closely. The skirt of rough leather was not homogeneous, it was sewn from a pile of large pieces - very skillfully that no seams were seen. At the front, it was hooked and tied with laces, threaded through holes, decorated with huge gold rivets. His dry torso was covered with a tight pullover with rolled up sleeves torn on the shoulders with bone spike-like outgrowths. The same were on his unnaturally long neck with traces of burns. The face was hidden by a diamond-shaped mask with curved slits for eyes and mouth. And this was a very good moment, because an ugly face, as if it damaged by acid, and, it seems, without lips, was seen on either side. A doll was worn on one hand. It was in black clothes with "udead" sign on it and nails stuck out of a soft white head with green buttons-eyes. He held a piece of twisted pair by the other hand. And he had a strange smell.

"As if rags are smoldering somewhere near me."

The creature approached at arm's length and bent slightly towards the girl, unwittingly giving the opportunity to look into slits of the mask. But the girl really didn't want to examine yellow crooked teeth and nebula in his eyes.

'H... hello.'

'Melanie! What a nice surprise, Melanie!'

The creature spoke indistinctly, swallowing sounds and endings of words, hurrying, screaming and sobbing.

"He obviously has an overabundance of emotions."

'And who are you?'

'Me? I spoke with you, when you were driving. Do you remember?!'

'Well, I already understood, but...'

'What a clever girl!'

'You obviously know what's going on here.'

'Some kind of. But I have a different role in this performance. I need to make sure you reach the top.'

'This cat, I'm sure, has the same goals' Melanie looked for the animal, but he, it seemed, disappeared.

'Maybe! But we have different motivations! Melanie! I want to ask you, why do you understand me?'

'Weird question.'

'Not at all! My language is different from any of human's languages! From the human point of view, I do not even speak.'

'I understand everything.'

'It's good, of course. It's nice to talk with such a significant person! But this is also bad. This means that something went wrong, not according to plan. We will correct!'

'According to the plan, I should not understand you?'

'No, if only something what happened with me, did not happen with you, Melanie!'

'What do you mean?'

'Do not pay attention, Melanie! You have your own role! I have my own! Mr. Cat will help you. He has experience in this. He is good at leading to the top; you are good at bringing snow in the summer. If we would have your services in right time, things would go much better.'

'We can make a contract when I finish with this assignment. You know how to contact our office. Well, or your representative...'

'No, no, my lady, it's too late. Now the vector is much changed. Well, it doesn't matter! You, Melanie, need to go to the top, and for this you have to jump into the burrow. There is not much difference today.'

'I don't understand.'

'Look behind you!'

Melanie turned 180 degrees. Behind her, in the place of the elevator, a huge screen appeared. It was protruded just from the ground, held by two powerful pillars.

"There are some associations with open air cinemas, where everyone watches a film sitting on a plaid or in a car."

'And how should I...?' she turned, but no one was found.

"...get out of here."

The choice of actions was not so great, and, remembering the terminal in the hall, Melanie decided that the giant screen would be able to help her, like his younger brother. While the girl was approaching, the latter was activated on its own. Here Melanie chose the same tactic, but the display clearly did not want to satisfy the needs of a small bug at the ground. As a result, without any screen's reaction, Melanie went to chock-a-block. And then she stumbled over something on the ground.

"The danger here waits at every corner and from all sides."

A wooden hatch of medium size was found underfoot. Melanie noticed that it was large enough that two people of medium size could descend into it at a time. Melanie immediately remembered one client who was too big even for this hatch. "Snow at Summer" provided him with everything, including the withdrawal of cash from his account, and that fat man could give out fabulous tips, by ordering himself a pizza. When Melanie started open the hatch, music began to play from somewhere above. Looking to the source, the girl saw that the screen gave attention to her. There was a pleasant unobtrusive music, accompanied by the inscription "Please, stand by". Melanie moved away to see what was on the display. The inscription had disappeared, noise had gone, and they had already been replaced by a demonstration of the hotel lobby.

"If now I try to realize the spatial loop, which is something usual in this place, then my brain can be fried."

The hall did not change much, except for a coffin, which was appeared opposite the elevator. A priest stood near it, with his back to the viewer. Also near the coffin several pink synthetic funeral wreaths stood. The grieving audience was replaced by four growth puppets in shabby condition. They, of course, were anthropomorphic, but their creator was inspired not by people, but by very daring caricatures. But the most interesting was the behavior of the shadows, however strange it did not sound. There was the same strange effect as before. Pieces of the shadow, that dolls and the whole structure cast, literally crawled in different directions. Sometimes they thickened into larger pieces, slid along walls and, apparently, disappeared in some micro-holes.

"Doesn't matter what it was, but I found its source. Obviously, they are burying Susan. All her relatives are four terrible dolls. She has everything connected with the number of the death. But she ran away from death as she could."

The image on the screen did not particularly change. The flow of black bunches also did not intend to stop. It was not at all what Melanie could look forever. And she did not want to go anywhere through the wasteland, so she decided it was time to use the hatch. The hatch's lid was too heavy, and the girl began to look for something that could serve as a lever.

"There are some structures on the horizon. As a last resort, I'll get there, and I think I'll find something there, what help me to lift up the lid. Dear Lord, what is nonsense happen?"

At that moment, the lid opened with the noise, raising a cloud of dust. Melanie managed to notice how some small animal in fear runs away into the distance.

"Should be a lizard. Should I run after it? Okay. Fate gave me a ghostly lever and opened the nearest convenient exit. Or the entrance. It is worth using. Moreover, I will soon be like fried bacon. It seems that the rain is really evaporating. It's good that I do not sweat, but it does not save me from repeating the Susan's fate."

Melanie looked into the hatch. A metal staircase left downstairs, into the darkness.

"So, let's go?"

Descending a few racks down, Melanie tried to look around. The darkness was impenetrable, and it remained to be hoped that the flashlight on the phone could still be used, and the battery would last at least for a while. Another pair of crossbeams, the girl's head was below the surface. And then the lid was vehemently slammed by an unknown force. Melanie did not expect such a curtsey from a recently favorable fate, and she, by the surprise, let go the ladder. It was not far to fall, and after few seconds she was already lying with her back on a cold metal surface.

"Ouch."

The light immediately switched on, allowing the battery of the phone to live still a little. In addition to diode lighting, unknown equipment was also launched. A small bunker with red brick walls was filled with this equipment. There was a door - a small metal rectangle that could be moved to the side after being activated by an electronic key.

"The key is not exactly the key. There must be something with USB. I'll try my flash drive. I hope I have not lost it yet."

After digging among packages, the flash drive was found in a small hole in the lining.

"Go on vacation, get drunk, and buy a new bag."

The input was USB. The flash drive fit, of course, but nothing happened. After a little meditation, Melanie decided if this was the key, then she should try to turn it a little. And again it worked. The electronics done its work and the door slid gently to one side. On the other side a small section of the corridor was. It was looked like someone cut out this piece from the twenty-third floor. In the end of the corridor the door of the elevator opened. And Mr. Cat was waiting for his lost bipedal companion.

## ~ Act III ~

### 25 | Hallowed Be Thy Acorns

Number twenty five had let to know about its existence. The figures appeared for giving a signal to the elevator door to move apart and release the prisoner inside the cabin. But the door really did not want to move. It was full of meditations. A little bit later one of the parts moved a little. The second part of it decided "aut Caesar, aut nihil" and made the same as its colleague. And bright light filled the elevator. Melanie, who had been sitting on the floor and playing with the cat, jumped to her feet. Music flowed towards her. Chorale, wonderful organ sounds.

"Was I brought to Paradise? I walked so long, so it is no wonder."

Singing died down, and the organ began to play a little bit hoarsely. As if it was interrupted by electronic noises. Gradually, music was transformed into a kind of distant muffled a howling or a squeal, and then there was silence.

Melanie left the elevator, and it remained open. As if it wanted to say that it had worked too much, the door did not even think to move.

"So, at least there is calmer now. And where is the cat?"

'Puss, puss, puss. Mr. Cat. Where are you?'

The animal was found inside the cabin. Melanie was even frightened when she saw him in this condition. He squeezed into the corner, his claws stuck out, he was hissing, looking away into the distance. His hair stood on end on the back of his neck.

'What's up?'

But the cat did not see his new owner. He was ready to attack and torment something unknown.

'Good. Would you wait for me here?'

"What's wrong with him? Maybe there is a big dog here?"

Melanie turned and moved away from the elevator along a small corridor. At the end of it there was a door that hid the bigger corridor, decorated with violet wallpaper and crosses. They were huge, from floor to three-meter's ceilings, and they were made of mahogany in the Catholic tradition.

"Frightful to think of how much this might cost."

Melanie noticed that the fulfillment was quite rude. In fact, it just was giant boards, which were cut out on some machine, crookedly, without much effort, and then were put together. And all nails were bent.

"It's ascetic, of course, but it's like to eat a lobster with cheap sauce."

Another door. Almost immediately when she got into the next room, Melanie saw a man in a cassock.

"It's unexpected."

'Father, forgive me. Am I disturbing you? I'm a courier and...'

The priest turned and examined Melanie from her head to foot. Melanie's eyes were popping out. She was looking dumbfounded at the priest. Realizing that this was not very polite, she could not looked away from him. The case was not in that she never saw priests, but for the first time she met one who had a pig's head. And it was not at all on a plate, on a hook near, or in figurative sense which describe his appearance in negative way.

'No, daughter of mine. But you should not appear to me in these clothes. This is a small, but still the abode of the Lord. Come in and talk. Or did the black dog bite off your tongue?' he grinned, wrinkling his snout.

'I only have a cat. He's not even black.'

'They gave rise to hatred where his paw did not.'

Amazed that his speech was no different from human speech, Melanie entered into the room and immediately stepped into something.

"Wet and sticky. It's blood. Came from that package, inside which... is it a head? I just will not look in that direction. I do not know how, but I will not. It is necessary to somehow abstract from the situation, because he obviously perceives his appearance as the norm."

Dozens of icons of all sizes and techniques of fulfillment were here. Thousands of figurines what depicting Christian motifs. So, it was looked like Christian motifs at first look. They seemed to greet Melanie, but it became clear to her that this was not a kind of greeting. While the owner of the apartment was doing something with a huge suitcase, the girl approached to one of shelves. For a long time the girl could not understand what was wrong, but suddenly it dawned upon her. The characters on the icons seemed to laugh at her. Figurines pointed at her with fingers, slyly smirking. Melanie recoiled. She had never seen such a thing, and it frightened her.

'Daughter, follow me. You're a courier, aren't you?'

'Yes. I brought you the parcel. I will find, wait a second. You will need to sign.'

"Necessarily."

'No, no, you do not need speeches here. This is a waste of important meaning. Follow me.'

He had already hidden his suitcase somewhere and looked at Melanie with small eyes.

She nodded and followed Father into the next room, stepping over a bloody puddle. It was annoying that the pigs did not have emotions, and it was impossible to determine the mood of the inhabitant of the twenty-fifth floor.

'It's nice that I do not walk alone today in this lōg belonging to the dead. Lonely with grief, I grew up here and I am so pleased with a feeling of reverential eġe that, I can swere, this is Paradise.'

'Father, forgive me, how could you grow up here? This hotel is only several years here, and you... uh... obviously not a child.'

'Your truth, and mea culpa - I strangely speak. Recently, some noise in my head is troubling, which means that I really get eald. But all is the will of the Lord. And I grew up in this mynster, but not in the "Mare Tranquillitatis".'

Melanie went step by step, and felt that faces on the images were stretched even more in ugly grins, that figurines were pulling their hands toward her, as if they were not holy at all, but legions of the damned from the next thrash-horror movie which she could take in a weekend-marathon. It suddenly dawned upon her: in the corridor, where they were going, the same crosses as before hang on walls. The difference was that these were small and more crooked, as if children were knitting them from twigs and brushwood, imitating the "Blair Witch Project". Some had extra cross bars; some were covered with inscriptions in languages, which were unknown for Melanie. All this slightly resembled a Sumerian cuneiform.

A sweetish smell mixed with a stench of mustiness, hit in her nose. Melanie realized that she had entered in the room, the absurdity of which the first room would envy long and strong. A huge crucifix with Jesus was in the corner. The top of the crucifix disappeared under a three-meter ceiling. It was made in the spirit of previous figurines. Jesus, with contempt and cunning on the stone face, smiled. In sparks of candles, which were placed at corners, his face seemed alive. A huge altar was right before the godless crucifix. It looked more like an ordinary table and was filled with something sticky and red, in which the blood was easily identified. And the ends of cuts, what was cut off from an unknown animal, did not let to make a mistake about a table's destination. Melanie stood, did not knowing what to say or think. As if a door to hidden corners of human madness swung open in ordinary reality. The Savior spattered with blood said that theories were close to the truth. The priest was looking at some book, but a second later he noticed that the guest was in some confusion.

'You comprehend my personal chaos, my daughter, clothed in fright. I have little space and have occasion to cut meat right here. I did not have time to freshening up þæt place, and it looks awful. My unriht. Again mea culpa.'

'Everything is... all right, Father.'

'You can sit down on that bench by the weall, I'll clean it up a little. Can I offer you some tea?'

'No. Thank you, Father.'

"He seems friendly, but I'm not insane - take a drink from such a creature. Not the most suitable day for turning into a pig feed."

Melanie stepped aside. There in walls of the room were already familiar arched windows, but they were all sealed with burgundy fabric that covered the walls. It just passed dirty dim light. The fabric was torn in one place, maybe the priest himself picked a hole with his long finger to see what was happening outside. Melanie took advantage of this gap, but it was difficult to make out anything.

"It rains continuously on the street, and the twenty-fifth floor is high. Probably the rain has not ended since I came here. Maybe in this world there is only me and guests of this hotel? Well, and Mr. Cat. Everything and everyone already flooded. I've been here too long. It feels like I'm starting to forget who I am and from where. I can already rent a room here. Another couple of these addressees, and I'll be worse than Susan. Not in the sense that she is dead, but when compared with her lifetime condition. Mmm... I guess, I should not swear off."

Something slipped past the window, for a second obscuring the ghostly landscape. It was not a bird; it crawled along the wall of the hotel with help of powerful limbs resembling mis-shapen hands.

"Kenny?"

'This filth burned with a stigma on the face of Lord. Now it's much betera.'

Melanie turned around. The strange meat disappeared; drops of blood too. Unfortunately, Jesus smirked even more. The girl had to turn away. Melanie never thought about she was a believer or not, but she could not stand this look. All icons and statues laughed at her, spied upon her.

'I'll be back in a second,' the priest went through the door, which was opposite the one through which he and Melanie had entered in the bloody room.

Melanie obediently remained to wait.

"I would cut and ran, but he must sign."

Melanie heard a prayer from the room where the priest left. Listening, the girl realized that there was reading of something to a chant, but she couldn't call it the prayer.

"It's like witches read "Pater Noster"."

It was not very well to heard, but some fragments still reached her ears. Sense in words was not. They were not drawn up in proposals. The priest was saying gibberish.

"What? What is this all about?"

Melanie listened more.

"In the fields... On the north... In the grain. Yes... Temptation. Blue ones ask... "

Deviant prayer was over. Tired to be surprised, Melanie assumed an imperturbable look, expecting that instead of a priest a full-fledged pig would come to her.

'Would you like to have lunch, Melanie?'

'Mmm...'

"And what do we have for dinner? Your FRIED HEAD?"

'Come on. I cooked too much. Gluttony is a grave sin. If you do it, then after deað it will be difficult. It is also difficult how to store food in a broken refrigerator.

"I want to eat anyway. I can only guess how long I'm traveling here. I should buy a watch ong time ago. The battery of the phone is off and that's all - I'm in a vacuum. I must, at least, to see what on the lunch."

'Very well, Father.'

Melanie went to the next room. Everything was simple inside. A small kitchen behind the partition, a spacious dining room with a rectangular table in the center, lined with silver dishes.

'Sit down,' the priest waved absentmindedly at a chair.

Chose a chair rather far off, Melanie hoped that the hospitable, but, nevertheless, vile addressee would sit at the head of the table, but he sat opposite.

'Help yourself.'

He uncovered fangs. Apparently in his own way, he smiled, but it was difficult to perceive this way.

"I understand that you are trying to be friendly, but ... Shit. Do you really not understand what's wrong here?"

Exhaling, Melanie tried to abstract, looking at the table. She didn't know where to look. Everything looked very appetizing. Roast meat, grilled fish, vegetables, cooked with the same method, beef-roll, British chips, small octopuses in sauce, and much more. Obviously, the priest liked to cook.

'I rarely have guests. I always throw out a lot of food. I never knew how to cook a little.'

They started. The priest folded his hands in a prayer, muttering something, but Melanie did not know either his schizophasic prayers or any normal ones, so she just waited until he finished and started to eat. Everything was so surprisingly delicious that the girl did not reject to drowning in gluttony. She almost forgot about who was sitting opposite. Of course, she could not to consume the local dishes endlessly. To her regret, the stomach was filled. Satisfaction brought Melanie back to reality. She suddenly remembered what she was doing, looked up, and realized that the priest was standing to her right, very close. The girl smiled tense. A package was in his hands, but, thanks God, not with the head.

'I still have a lot. I wrapped it up for you. For you and the cat. I saw him in the elevator. I think you will be satisfied with it. It's a cat of this God's fool, that lives somewhere below, isn't it?'

'Yes. Susan, from the fourth.'

'Look after him. He does not love me, but I always believed that his thoughts are true. Look after him, and he will look after you.'

'Yes, I will, Father. I did not give you the parcel yet.'

'Oh, well, let's see what's there.' he bared his teeth.

Melanie opened the bag and, searching a little, pulled out the package with the number "25".

'Sign it.'

The priest took the package, put an incomprehensible sign on the blank and went to the wall, unpacking the parchment.

'What is it... what is it...'

He unfolded the package. There was a doll. The rag doll depicted a girl in a white blouse and a gray skirt. It seemed like homemade. After looking at the contents of the parcel, the priest, without saying any word, bit off the doll's head.

"Seems, I REALLY should go."

Melanie, without making any sudden movements, got up from the table and stepped to the door with small steps.

'Well, I go now.'

The priest, not paying attention to her, just went to a switch and turned off the light. In the dark, Melanie again began to hear the chorale which, it seemed, was performed on strings of rusty cords. Suddenly, a knock on the glass sounded. It was going from an outside of the hotel.

"I do not like what crawls on the walls at the level of the twenty-fifth floor and has such sizes."

The door was open, and she decided not wait for an invasion from the street or further action from her client. She just went to the elevator under the mocking gaze of false saints.

### 33 | Something

The lift car quietly, without a slightest gnash, continued to move through space, in an unknown direction. Melanie was still there. The girl who worked as a courier who carried very, very important goods, whose sense of reality had nearly left her. It seemed like a couple of hours ago there was a delicious dinner; it seemed a couple of minutes ago she plunged into this mare.

Melanie was sure that it was raining outside. Drops were knocking against a surface of the elevator. There was an open area of the shaft, or water began to seep inside. The knock increased, making it clear that it was not a small spring rain, but a heavy downpour fell on heads of the madmen and flooded everything around. The downpour was born in the sky, which was pierced by a black ridiculous spire that grew out of one wasteland. If you did not rise higher, you could never be saved. Higher, higher and higher. All ridiculous characters of an absurdist performance had to drown and you had choice: to leave them behind or to be executed like them. A supernumerary, whose life irretrievably lost its meaning.

Melanie was sitting on the floor of the elevator. Mr. Cat was sleeping beside her, lying on her bag. Silence and pacification were sometimes disturbed by some kind of tinkling, reaching through a noise of water flows from outside. As if some small mechanisms were working, letting them go on.

She could not say that it was quite unexpected, but first drops fell from the ceiling. The rain quite fast made a condition of the ceiling worse, widening a gap for its invasion. Melanie moved to the opposite corner and watched as a thin trickle of water was flooding the floor. She noticed that it dripped like in slow motion.

"Non-Newtonian rain?"

The girl approached and looked closely on it. She realized that the water was more like a thick nut sauce, which her mother made for the holidays. In addition, the liquid smelled strange. Noises outside also changed. Drops did not knock, but fell from above with sonorous slaps. Like dead crows which crashed into a door of a farmer, who put a devil's cursed scarecrow. It wasn't unexpected, but the liquid colored in a rich red color, and after that it became dark-burgundy, which would have looked good on a theatrical curtain.

'Blood?'

"It will be very colorful death if I drown in the blood in the elevator car, which is running at full speed in the pocket universe of rich psychos."

Melanie put her finger under the warm, purple stream which immediately dyed her skin with a substance that almost instantly turned into a crust. The girl made a wry face and sniffed her new gift from above.

"Wait a minute."

There was pleasant spicy smell. She carefully licked her own finger. Melanie realized that the substance was also sweet and pleasant to the taste.

"Something is like a molasses. Syrup? It tastes of raspberries. A little cinnamon. Ginger and allspice tree are felt."

'Your Piggyness, have you started cooking?'

The elevator was filled with a smell of hot chocolate, a dough, a melted margarine and a butter. Melanie rose to her feet just in time. Suddenly, the floor became sticky and began to be covered with glaze. Sensing something wrong, Mr. Cat climbed onto the girl's shoulder. Melanie grabbed her bag from the floor.

'Be careful, Kitty.'

With fright, the cat heavily scratched her arm and neck and then anxiously mewed, watching the glaze had appeared on the walls.

In the moment, when the elevator almost turned into a gingerbread house, the door opened. When the girl was jumping out towards freedom, she managed to notice a number "33". Mr. Cat jumped off her shoulder with happiness, leaving a couple more scratches.

"At least it brought me to the right place."

There was no a sweet kingdom or a park with the fair, about which Susan dreamed so much. There was nothing what she could expect or any other normal person in her place could wait. Only a dark room with dim light of lamps covered with a thick metal net. Weak highlights were across the room. There was only one exit - through a metal door, eaten by rust. Some time ago it was on a signaling and opened with an electronic key, but now the lock was torn out, and the door was propped up by a brick. A corridor was on the other side and it probably was equipped with motion sensors. A couple of steps deep into the corridor and a bright light flashed, striking at her eyes and for a moment deprived Melanie of her vision. There were doors by the sides of the corridor. They led to other rooms, but now they were either welded or boarded up. There was only one way - through another door at the end, which was equipped with a metal detector frame. But it also did not work.

A small room with dim lighting was behind the door. The dim lighting was creating an incomprehensible glare a few meters from the door. Melanie went ahead, held out her sticky hand and found a cold surface of the glass, on the other side of which there was only a small round lamp. This way of an illumination in combination with soft quiet jazz created even some coziness. Transparent barrier, for unknown reasons, did not let pass light from the side where Melanie was. The inhabitant of the fenced off part of the room was living in shadows, but apparently there were reasons - Melanie saw that the glass was strengthened, and a large grate was also installed on the other side. No opportunity to get behind the glass was there, but there were chairs and audio equipment for talks on both sides.

A tall man in a suit came out of darkness. He sat in front of Melanie in a chair.

'I greet you,' he said with a magnificent baritone.

Melanie was slightly taken aback. The voice was pleasant enough that it became a little bit scary. As if a sound of his voice passed straight into the brain. The round lamp allowed evaluating an appearance. A typical Swede. He was a blond with light eyes and pale skin.

'Hello.'

'You brought me something. Do I understand it correctly?'

Melanie liked everything in her interlocutor. Only a chain on his ankle confused. But he quickly distracted her attention from it with his wide smile. Melanie tried to keep remnants of seriousness and not turned into an idiot who could not connect two words in conversation with a client. The sugar, gurgling somewhere in the elevator, leaked into her mind.

'I would offer you a drink, but on your side, alas, minimalism prevails. So I can only say that since this is my home now, then you can feel at home too. I have not had such beautiful visitors yet, but I have always been a friendly host.'

"Say something! He will decide that you are thick as a brick. But everything is right. You are dumb. You're sitting here, staring at him and keeping silent, but in front of you, it is obvious, a dangerous enchained fellow who sits in a cell. It's not the time to relax! He will get out and cut you to beautiful ribbons, you'll see. You're the best worker in your office. The best employee of the month. Of the year. For all time. Be a professional."

'My name is Eddie Lee. You can call me just Eddie or just Lee. As you prefer. I've been here a long time. I agree to any communication. Earlier, I had been in a prison, but now I got here.'

'I...' the girl cleared her throat. 'My name is Melanie,' she answered in a weak, trembling voice that still held, but was already ready to fall into an embrace of silence.

'Melanie. What a beautiful name. Is it like that actress?'

'Most likely, my mother really likes of some actress, who is called Melanie.'

'I do not have parents. And never was. Probably, because I don't know how to sympathize.'

'It's sad.'

'Maybe. I was well brought up. They gave me borders. But I grew up, and they were unable to hold me.'

'Ah... but what were you doing?'

'Weddings, you know. Highly successful. The triumph of humanity and soul, you look at how things are going on, and you feel how all together stand on the path of the true...' he picked up the mug, from which a hot steam was rising, and took a sip, '... enjoying of flagellation. Delicious tea. I would offer it to you, but, yeah, yeah, we already passed this. There used to be a guard here, they could thought something out. But now it looks like everyone died out. Only this mourning gloom.'

'And what is this place?'

'My room in the "Mare Tranquillitatis". Are there any doubts? What do you think?'

'It looks like a prison cell for especially dangerous criminals.'

'You're right. Rather, right and wrong at once. As I said, there is not even a guard here. All this is a special order. All this has been created step-by-step with an instruction. In smallest details.'

'And why are you here, Mr. Lee?'

'I'm on my own free will here. I was tormented by my thoughts in a prison for the reason that I am the most terrible of sinners on this planet.'

'Did you kill someone?'

'Well, how can I explain it to you? Here is glass. It does not break. Here are walls. They are hard and thick. So everything is real. Neither I, nor you, nor your cat can pass all this reality without hindrance. Persons are placed in such a place because of serious crimes. It does not matter who do it and how. But my hands were in blood only once, and after that I was passing my wards to knives of others.'

'Has your murder gone unnoticed?'

'I think so. Do you remember the strange show about the Yellow Chicken that was filmed in the fifties? And they tried to reanimate it later.'

'I was too little when they again showed it. It was disgusting.'

'I had the same thought too. So, I once found myself in a dark alley with a new actor who played Chicken.'

'Mother regretted so long that the show was interrupted. She did not watch a single episode, but she really liked an idea that Chicken was played by a Russian Jew.'

'Why so?'

'Our roots are from Russia. The mother is half Russian.'

'Unusually. And the second half?'

'Norwegian. But the father is partly Jewish.'

'Very unusual.'

"Well... Why do I tell him this?"

'Have you seen a cat? The striped one. Maybe he made his way in your part of room?'

'No, you can't do it from your part. This is just unreal. Even for him. Is it him at the wall there?'

The cat really lay quietly at the far wall, paying no attention to anyone and studying some kind of paper rubbish.

'Yes, it's him. I didn't notice him.'

'Beautiful cat. Yours?'

'Now, probably, yes. He followed me from the fourth floor.'

'Crazy Susan, isn't it? She never had animals. I do not know where she got him. But I remember him. He came to me eternity ago. He, like you now, was sitting in this chair. Of course, we did not talk.'

Lee put the mug on the floor and drew from under the chair an old warm plaid shirt.

'I keep it. A gift from the one who brought me to the bottom, where I am now, where I swim with other maggots.'

'Your girlfriend?'

'My Devil. Wily, lying and sweet-voiced Devil. I do not even know what became with her. And with the whole world, where we lived with her. I would say that she betrayed me, but this word is too negative. Now I have it all, and that's all that should be. She also decided that the world is more convenient to live. I think that it is not worth it.'

He waved his hand, like if he looked at the watch.

'By the way, I think that you should go already. I dare not delay you any longer, because you are already expected. Do not get me wrong, but your, especially your coming, means that we cannot support this conversation anymore.'

Mr. Cat rose from the floor and went somewhere. Suddenly a sound of the opening door of the elevator came from behind. All corridors were gone; the space was distorted, shrinking. The cat was already sitting inside the elevator, ready for a further trip.

'So, where can I leave the parcel? I don't see how I can deliver it.'

'Leave it on the chair. I'll get it later. Unfortunately, I cannot sign. Forgive me.'

'Yes. Yes. I know. It is noted in my list.'

Melanie took out the package on which the floor, the name and the surname of the recipient were written and put it on the chair. Then, she looked at the list and found that the customer was marked with numbers one and two.

'Melanie, before you leave me, can I ask you a favor?'

'Should I open the parcel for you?'

He smiled.

'You have very detailed instructions. Yes, please. I will not be able to pick it up soon.'

When the girl approached to the chair, she unwrapped the parcel. There, in a heap of paper, was a lock of hair in a small bag.

'It's all right then,' Lee said.

'What does it mean?'

'It means, everything will return to normal. Do not worry. Good-bye, Melanie. My sins have already come for me, and I will stand alone with them.'

After that he got up from the chair and waved to her. Melanie wanted to wave back, but then she saw how Eddie was wrapped up by two ugly hands. And small feet with claws squeezed on his sides.

'It should have happened long ago. Good-bye, Melanie.'

There, behind him, was an ugly face of transformed Kenny. He dragged his victim into the darkness, moving with help of the lower arm and pulling himself and Lee.

'Kenny! Kenny, can you hear me?'

Light, except for that which was in the elevator, went out, and Melanie had to retreat with accompaniment of the cat's meowing.

### 37 | American Harakiri

The elevator left the thirty-third floor and, as if it frightened no less than Melanie, flew up at all speeds. All around rumbled; the lift car shook, as if someone wanted to make a cocktail from passengers. There were heard inhuman cries of a creature into which, for mystical reasons, Kenny turned. Wild howl, and claws of a spider-like creature broke through the bottom of the elevator, but it could not hold out and with a squeal flew somewhere down.

'Faster, please, faster! I agree to be crushed on the floor, if something alien is not sticking out of it.'

Melanie looked around. As if nothing had happened. Mr. Cat quietly sat on her bag, and, it seemed, even slept. It was for him like if Melanie did not leave the elevator at all and the lift car just quietly went up.

The girl stroked the cat.

'It's like a normal situation for you.'

The cat gave long yawns, exposing sharp white fangs, and lay down on the bag.

"Where is next stop? At this speed we will, I hope, quickly reach it."

Echoes of music began to reach Melanie's ears, as if a street guitarist was somewhere in the lift shaft. Beautiful melodic guitar's fingerings floated in air and a smell of cheap cigarettes and bourbon.

"In what room is this, I wonder? I can look into the list, of course, but the elevator still will not pass by. I hope so. It seems that my recipients are all guests of this hotel. Remaining floors are empty or do not exist. But I will not be surprised, if now this cabin, accelerating, will break the fucking roof and take me to the stratosphere. There are gray ones walking around and, what's the most ridiculous, they expect me with the parcel. For example: a box of matches and a burger. Or now the elevator turns off for a moment and then goes to the side. Where are you going? Down or up? Sideways!"

It did not happen. Nothing more strange happened than it was already. The number "36" appeared, and the elevator slowed its movement.

"Maybe it's here, eh? I'd like to go out here, please. Deal with everything and leave. After all, this elevator knows how to drive down, isn't it?"

The elevator decided that it could overcome one more floor and the number "37" appeared. Finally, mechanisms stopped pulling their cargo. But the door, as usual, did not want to open.

'Hey! I was almost killed here, inside. Please, have a heart!'

The light started shake, but it did not turn off in this time. Because of flashes, Melanie even thought that she saw someone, who looked like a goblin, was standing in a corner.

"Please stop."

Reality decided otherwise. Following the light show, musical also began - a powerful guitar riff hit her ears. The music passed through a distortion and tore the air and ear-drums into pieces. And only Mr. Cat did not hear anything. He looked calmly at Melanie, who was standing, holding ears with her hands. He was sitting on the floor now and licking his front paw. His whole appearance seemed to express an idea that bipedal, in an opinion of cats, should suffer constantly.

'Do it quiet, please!'

Her pleas were heard, the music died down. The panel of buttons flashed colored lights, and as a final chord, the door opened. Going outside, the girl expected to see a basement club, which was still remembered by "Sex Pistols", but outside the elevator was another crazy room. A vestibule was more like a doss house for vagabonds. Dirty walls stained with a variety of abominations of all colors. There were pieces of old wallpaper. A floor was strewed with empty bottles, cans of beer and soda, wrappers from fast food and disposable containers. Sometimes there were boxes in which Chinese food was delivered. In a corner stood a smooth but shaky pyramid, created from a huge number of cans of beans. After a couple of steps, Melanie almost stepped into someone's half-eaten lunch.

"Or vice versa - eaten in the past. What an abomination?"

The plate stood on the floor, but unlikely it belonged to an animal. And Mr. Cat, sniffing dried old French fries and gray-green sausage, refused to eat.

"Right. I brought you a whole package of food from... from... I think you will be full enough for a year."

But the cat appreciated the pyramid. So he remained to sit beside her, sending Melanie to solitary voyage.

There was an old telephone set on a coffee table covered with newspapers and clippings. Probably, one of the first, where it became possible to connect an answering machine. The last one showed new messages. As Melanie took a step toward the phone, the message started itself.

'You have one new message.'

Then there was silence, diluted by someone's regular breathing. And a little bit later a cold, almost emotionless, male voice spoke.

' _Hello. Why do you not answer the phone? Do not try to call us, they can use the telephony. Do not try to sleep. We found a specialist in mirrors. Too long. Too far. All three methods were used, and now they are in our office. It should not be. She will never understand anyway.'_

'You do not have new messages.'

Melanie shrugged her shoulders. It was not her business.

"Apparently, some kind of failure of electronics, or just a button pressed itself from the vibration of the floor. Ah ... who would have known? I can't even screw in a bulb without assistance."

There was a dirty wooden door in the wall. A sign of pacifists was painted with a red paint on top of it. And above it some words of Lennon was written. Also there was a newspaper clipping.

"How stereotyped. John Lennon and this sign. Why is it, for example, not "The Sisters of Mercy" and "@". Why not? And what is in an article?"

"...In an interview given to the BBC television in 1978 the writer said that he would like to arrange for his friends" a "posthumous party" with a dispelling of his own ashes from a cannon." These words became a kind of the author's last will, and on August 20 it was carried out. Specially constructed cannon made a shot..."

"Something is torn off here. The text was cut off too badly."

Melanie pulled the door open, but it was locked. She knocked. After a couple of seconds, there were hurried footsteps behind the door, and the door was unlocked. In an aperture a man appeared. He was about 50, dressed in leather pants, a white T-shirt with the logo "Iron Maiden" and cowboy boots. His hands were covered with tattoos and scars, and long tangled red hair was on his head. The picture was complemented by a beard.

"Holy Moses!"

'Hello, I'm Melanie. I brought you the parcel.'

'Oh. I've been waiting for you for a long time. Come on in. Cool outfit.'

'Um... Thank you.'

He waved his hand, as if to say to follow him, and entered the room.

'Do you like Cobain's work?'

'Free T-shirts.'

"I almost do not lie."

'I'm not a big fan either. But my dislike grows out of personal motives. At one time, I had an opportunity to communicate with him. In the end, everything became bad ... very bad ... Also I was selling such t-shirts in a brand-new store for rich kids who thought they were musicians. Do you play on anything?'

'In childhood I was torturing xylophone.'

Melanie went into the room and looked around. The room of medium size was still better than the previous one, except for pizza's scraps on a large bed covered with a gray blanket. But the inhabitant of apartments, which reminiscent of junkatorium, apparently liked the order specifically in one room.

Scraps were removed and, in general, it became even cozy. Gramophone records hung on walls of something resembling a bedroom. Many of them were rare. There were blues musicians, and rock and roll, and punk, psychedelic, and many, many other things, sometimes diluted with a poster jumping on the stage of Mick Jagger or Robert Smith in the USSR T-shirt. An atmosphere would not be complete if there were no equipment and a guitar itself. Melanie found all this successfully in a far corner of the room. A wonderful Fender, a synthesizer from Yamaha and a bunch of some kind of equipment like amplifiers. And vinyl record player for a desert. The record of the Rolling Stones "Play with fire" were in it. But a layer of dust was visible on the black surface of the record. Obviously, the device had not been used for a long time.

'What a good guitar you have,' Melanie blurted out.

'You said you don't play.'

'My father collects guitars. He also does not play, but he dinned guitars into my ears. And I ... I'm just on a xylophone, yeah. Only a hymn with success.'

'I can give you the guitar to try...'

'I have an intuitive connection with the xylophone. I do not know where the sound comes from.'

'Perhaps you'd like a drink? Jim Beam, for example? Or scotch?'

'Thank you, but I still have a lot of work. Unfortunately. Four more floors to bypass.'

Up there, you'll need a bright mind. You're right. I would not go there of my own free will. I don't go out this room often, say by truth. I have not done anything for a long time. Sometimes I play in a pub, that's all. Previously, we made a show with my group, enkindled the crowd. A lot of souvenirs left from those ancient times.'

He went to a closet, which was not far from the record-player, and pulled out an impressive cardboard box.

'You see how many things there are. Trash like, but I can't throw it away. It's memory of the old times.'

He opened the box and Melanie saw a mess of various things: from a woman's underwear to, apparently, a dried finger. As if reading thoughts, the rock star extracted this very "finger" from the box and handed it to the girl.

'It's not real. Wooden. It used to be like a key chain, but a carbine broke. Looks like a real one, is not it?'

'I already decided that...'

The man laughed.

'No, no... Of course, we had fans, but all was without accidents. Well, if do not count our drummer. He was crushed by the setting.'

'How did it happen?' Melanie asked with interest and horror.

'I still do not know. He was drunk and somehow managed to do it.'

"I wonder could I have been at their concerts."

'And in what group did you play?'

'Oh. The lore of ages long gone by now. There are three of us out of six. So that doesn't matter.'

'Well, I would like to know.'

'I would not like to talk about this now.'

"No wonder you're sitting in this pigsty."

'I understand you.'

Melanie put her hand into the bag and pulled out an elongated package.

'It is for you.'

'Oh. I've been waiting for this for a long time.'

'I am pleased. Sign here, please.'

'It's good that you came today. It's such a wonderful rain today, but it can't go on forever,' the man said, setting up an intricate sign in the blank.

Melanie took the form and stopped at the exit, waiting for the package to be opened. With one eye, she still looked into the blank, hoping it would tell her about the character's personality in front of her. There was no name. Only the floor number. The signature did not say much either. And the addressee had already opened the parcel. Inside it was a bottle of liquid, which in color resembled expensive whiskey. Just a smell that spread around the room after a cork was pulled out, said that it was hardly possible to drink.

'What do you want to do with this?'

'Well, of course, do not drink,' the musician smirked.

'Yes, of course. Well, I'll go. Bye.'

'Good luck to you.'

After these words, the man began to pour the room with liquid from the bottle.

'What are you doing?'

Suddenly, everything took fire.

'Let's go! We must leave this place!'

'Yes! We set fire again!'

"Just... fuck him."

Melanie ran out into the corridor, picked up the cat, who all this time was meditating on cans, and jumped into the elevator. A mix of screams of pain and laughter from the musician was behind them.

'Come on. Do something!' the girl hit all buttons.

The fire was already in the hallway, and there was no more screaming. There was only death, which, with its clawed legs, howled, ran to two still living souls in the elevator. A self-willed mechanism had mercy on them. The door closed lazily, and the elevator started on its way. In the thirty-seventh something rumbled, but Melanie did not hear it anymore. After climbing into a corner, she simply turned off.

### Entracte II

Melanie stood in the middle of a desert. A giant red can of her favorite drink was before her. The girl went around the can several times, but she did not find a way to climb and look inside. Right on the top of the can a tablet of an impressive diagonal was fixed. After a series of manipulations, it became clear that only one file could be activated from the entire content. Its icon subtly hinted that this was a video. Melanie activated the file by opening a window, in which something began to load heavily. As it turned out, the file activated some stream from YouTube. The video was loaded on that moment when there was painfully familiar show.

"This is the Big Yellow Chicken!"

The original show of the 50's was on the screen. It came out in black and white, and then, due to lack of funds, it was never painted in colors, as planned by the creator. There was a standard nonsense, like in the second - a modern one - season: a huge man in a growing costume chicken, with a support of his friend, a policeman, was saving his girlfriend from a bald mustachioed woman and her hired assassins who looked just as ridiculous. Ragged montage, unauthorized people on the court, mixed shots, the policeman was played by two actors in one episode, a sound of terrible quality with a sepulchral howl instead of a soundtrack.

"Even gray color does not make it better. Who filmed such crap like this? In the fifties, perhaps they had good affordable drugs, but why did they start to remake everything the same? And, if memory does not cheat me, even the chicken has become somehow thin, as if he was kept in the basement, fed with cold, dried up noodles and forced to play in this show under the threat of death and death of all his relatives. Apparently, he refused to play in the end."

The rain started again. It began to turn the soil under feet into a sticky jumble. It became cold, and water no longer disappeared into nowhere. Everything soaked so quickly that the girl even began to get a little frightened of what was happening. Through this mud, through the murk of rain, absolutely not paying attention to the current weather outpouring, assistance was already in a hurry to help. A colorful company, consisting of four girls in suits nurses, was hurrying to Melanie. Strange quartet was approaching not with empty hands. They were pulling a stepladder.

This stepladder, it should be noted, was very titanic in size. Even for four people it was heavily, which Melanie noticed even from afar. What she could not see until the procession approached was that one of the girls looks like a honey man with traces of a decomposition of a drowned man.

'What's going on here?'

Girls installed a stepladder. The one, which looked like a living cadaver, said something in Japanese and pointed her finger up. Then there was a truly mystical action: the rain was abruptly increased and by the nearest impulse washed away nurses. Melanie did not have a great variety of activities. In addition, the mud became simply unbearable, and puddles grew in geometric progression. The soil, which was recently languishing with thirst, was no longer able to absorb so much water. The weather spoiled, the cold intensified. Pulling out sneakers from viscous puddles, Melanie began to climb up.

"Will they give me new clothes? It will be necessary to give a good deal of thought to the tablet. Maybe I open some small door, and there will be a dress from "S-n-S", which someone made off from under my nose."

No matter how large the ladder was, the can was still somewhat higher. The girl could not resist looking inside, so she pulled herself up and stood on tiptoe. This allowed seeing what was at the bottom. At first it seemed to her that there was a huge amount of water inside, which turned into a swamp under an influence of debris and stagnation. But water shifted. Then a huge slippery tentacle flew out, made its way to Melanie, and fell back, mixing with a total mass.

'What kind of horrors is this?'

'Slug,' suddenly a calm low voice answered.

Instantly turning, Melanie saw the second inhabitant of the gloomy barn. He stood on the edge of the can, clutching with his claws. The wind carried from him a nasty smell, hinting that burns of his crazy friend did not stand even nearby. The bandages, with which his stumps were wrapped, were soaked with pus and it was collecting small flies.

'What are you doing here?'

'Does it matter?'

'Why is this slug here?'

'You ask too many questions.'

'But it here for some reason, isn't it?'

'It obviously has more reasons to be here than you have.'

'I'm not there.'

Instead of answering, the stranger just pulled a piece of rotten meat from bowels of the cloak, and then a loud scream was heard. Some giant birds collapsed from heavens with the rain. Melanie realized that they were out for Melanie's blood and hardly with good intentions, but while she was looking for a shocker in her bag, birds already grabbed her like a fluff and dragged her along in an unknown direction. She did not want to give up, at any case alive, so she fought back as best she could. As a result, birds dropped their wild prey directly into the can. All her life was already flying before her eyes, but when it was about a meter to the slimy mass, everything disappeared - Melanie found herself in the elevator. She was dry, clean and unharmed.

At the first moment Melanie imagined that the elevator was engulfed by fire, which reached the lift car from the room of the rock star. But a shock from the attack of birds and the death, which was failed in the lair of the huge slug, passed away, and it became clear that the flame was actually painted on a large canvas that suddenly wrapped walls of the elevator. Melanie jumped to her feet and looked around. The cat was nowhere to be seen. In the elevator there were no more indicators, where the figures of floors flashed, or the panel. There was no door. It was replaced by an opening in the wall of the lift car. And only darkness was behind it. Someone was approaching and his eyes gleamed in the darkness. Melanie would have assured herself that it was Mr. Cat, who went to find out where they had been thrown this time. But these eyes were at a height of two meters from the floor. The beak's one approached, deciding to continue his audience with the girl. When he entered the elevator, clattering his claws, his eyes stopped shining, like if it could only exist in darkness. Now this darkness reigned in his eye-sockets. Melanie chased away the thought that if he took off his mask, there would be nothing at all under the mask.

'Do you go alone now? Without your friend in a skirt?'

The anthropomorphic being was silent, bowing its beak. Melanie doubted his humanity even more than in the case of the green lean predecessor. She did not understand where his hands were. And his choice of dentures was not subject to common sense.

"Maybe I should ask why he did it."

Then she realized that he riveted his eyes on her.

'And I thought that we discussed everything.'

The creature kept silence, continuing to drill the girl with a look.

'You would not detain me, would you? I would like to do my job and get out of here!'

The beak-nosed burst out into a loud, bassy laugh. The laughter seemed to split and flew from the room. The girl even thought that in the darkness, behind the beak-nosed, hundreds of brothers echoed him. With all this, the stranger did not move. He still was frozen to the spot, and laughed. He fell silent just as suddenly.

'And what's so funny?'

'You'll fly down the steps with screams of the wounded birds.'

'The ones you set on me?'

'You do not even know what you're doing here; how you ended up here, and why they sent you here. Your precious parents pursued a very dubious goal by their act. They deceived all of us.'

'What a load of old cobblers!'

'At some point, between the mirrors, you lost yourself.'

'So what did my parents do?'

'They found expansion into new markets, let's just say.'

The creature began to laugh again.

"If he does not stop, I'll punch him in the face. Says the devil knows what. He laughs like a mad scientist. I'm uneasy without his bullshit."

'We all had dreams. You cannot even imagine how beautiful they were.'

On this phrase the creature was drawn into emptiness. The door that appeared from nowhere closed behind him, with the difference that it happened vertically. As if someone had clicked his teeth, chewing on the beak-nosed one. And it seemed like this someone was about to get close to Melanie. The girl instinctively moved away. She felt some unevenness with her back on the wall of the elevator. The unevenness turned out to be a panel with buttons. Bending toward buttons, the girl found that, instead of numbers, there were strange symbols and signs. But also there was a key, which was turned twice by Melanie. The key was also the flash drive as last time. The mechanism pushed it out, leaving it Melanie in the palm of his hand. She absently stared at the fresh find, expecting some result from her actions. At first nothing happened, and then Melanie began to feel a strange smell. To the smell was added a hiss. The lift car was successfully filled with gas.

"I need to get out, but which way?"

The door clanked again.

"Even if it does it more slowly, I just do not have time to jump out."

Melanie looked up, hoping to find a hatch leading to the shaft, but, of course, it was not there.

"In a cardboard elevator with a painted hearth, of course, there are no hatches."

"The devil only knows what's going on."

It became more difficult to breathe. And the elevator had already begun to blur. Melanie flowed down on the floor, in front of her eyes a wall dissolved, and behind it appeared the wasteland. Then the girl's mind flew through the space. She saw the old barn. Hooks were inside it. Puddles of blood on the floor were there too. Somewhere far away the rain was tapping his melancholy melody. Suddenly a wild cry of some unfortunate man blew up her brain. From such a cry, from this total horror and suffering of a wail, one could go crazy. And when it was get quiet, something black began to crawl along walls of the shed. It spread its tentacles like a night, when it extended shadows on a city. It was something more. An absolute darkness. An absolute contrast to light. Melanie turned. She saw people with whom she had spoken earlier. The black thing besieged them so that it was impossible to make out their faces. Melanie implored for stop. And pleas were heard. There was a silence, which was difficult to create, even if all plants, transport and all people jumped in the lake. In this calmness, Melanie lay on the floor and watched, as in corners of the shed or the elevator - it was already impossible to figure out - blood vessels swelled. They pulsated. One of blood vessels burst, and a couple of drops fell on Melanie's face. She had no strength to stretch out her hand and wipe them off. Somewhere in a backyard of consciousness she sensed that strange creatures with deer antlers were standing around her. She wanted to ask - who are they? Why was this all? But a voice invaded her head, destroying all illusions.

' **It's time to go on. You need to finish what was started. Now you have to finish.'**

And the elevator set off.

## ~ Act IV ~

### 40 | Twisted Soul Asylum

For the first time in a long journey, Melanie came to herself not in the elevator. She realized that she was standing, trying to regain her breath, leaning against a gray, rough wall. The elevator door was close. She suggested that, gathering all her willpower, she, unconsciously, escaped from the elevator.

"What floor is that? It does not look like a room, an apartment or kind of. Maybe I'm still in that shed?"

Melanie glanced back at the elevator. A strange smell was no more, and the lift car inside looked very ordinary.

"The normal elevator. Where is the cat by the way? Was he poisoned?"

'Puss, puss, puss! Mister Cat, where are you?'

In response, a little absent-minded "meow" was heard. Melanie turned to the source of the sound: the cat, after response on her, quietly was walking on some gray corridor.

'Should I follow you?'

After making a couple of steps from the wall, the girl already wanted to hurry for the cat, but, suddenly, an ambulance crew flew out on her, pushing a gurney with a patient. Whole bundles of wires and tubes led to the arms and neck of the miserable woman of a large size. When they were leaving, doctors shouted something, but Melanie could not make out their words.

"Maybe I'm at the first floor? Somehow they came here! There, at the end of the corridor, there must be an exit, and that's where my shaggy companion headed. That's for dead sure."

Melanie, having adjusted a strap of the bag on her shoulder, hurried along the corridor. There were naked gray walls. No ads, no doors, no people. One could say that these were two infinite rays directed into space, but too many turns with these rays happened.

"A turn. There's another one. And again. A sealed door. A turn again."

'What the hell are they building here?! Is it really ok for others?'

"How did they pass here? There are the meter and half a meter in a length, at best. A turn, a turn, a turn. A window? Heck! It's just attached to a wall. I would say that Albert Hofmann designed it, but everything is too dull for him."

The path ended in a blank wall with a microscopic vent hole under an unnaturally high ceiling. Judging by the sound, the fan, what worked behind the wall, had a king size. Melanie turned and walked along the familiar maze backward, muttering curses and expressing bewilderment. She spread her hands from time to time, touching walls, whose surface resembled something like pressed mud. Only one difference was: a smell from the material was like a burning plastic. Melanie thought that the corridor of turns had to end near the elevator shaft. But no one asked about her thoughts.

One way or another, but Melanie went out to a small corridor with a broken and de-energized freight elevator to her right, and a ward, where the already known medical crew was operating. A decor of the ward was strange. It was all decorated as if there was a party yesterday. Balloons, tinsel, serpentine, some sort of junk, sometimes rolling on the floor, sometimes quietly lying under feet. Among all it bottles well stood out. They were with sherry and absinthe. Melanie did not want to look at garbage at all. She decided to approach and ask about the place where she was and all that, because a statement "I'm lost!" grew with every minute.

"How could I ask something? They are busy, obviously. But I do not see other people here at all. What to do?"

While Melanie was pondering, the turmoil in the ward was over. And it ended, apparently, sad. Doctors took off their masks, pulled off their gloves, threw tools and defibrillators where they had to, and went in different ways. Light in the room went out. There remained only a strange reddish glow. It was not clear from where it came, but it fell exactly on the patient. Although now it was already possible to say: to a lifeless body. Entering the ward, the girl did not see, as expected, doctors sitting in corners. As if they were passing through walls, or going out through backstairs, doctors simply disappeared. With a large size of the ward, there was almost nothing in it except for the bed, the gurney on which the patient was brought, tools and cotton swabs on the floor, defibrillation devices and a couple of monitors at the bed that were connected to nothing. The face of patient on the bed was covered with a sheet, which was not the first freshness, and now it was also saturated with blood. Melanie, without thinking, pulled the sheet away and jumped aside, trying to contain the vomiting. The woman that lay on the gurney had no face: hair, ears, the back of the skull and a bloody porridge inside. What happened next made her jump out of the room - corpse, which lying on the bed, started to breathe.

Melanie did not know how long and where she had fled from the ward. She didn't know on what corridor she turned or in which direction. She just tried to stay away from the eerie sight. And now, in the corridor, which was new, but, in general, just as gray as previous ones, she sat leaning against some column, covering her face with hands, and tried to calm down.

"So. Quiet. This is not the first corpse that you see. Of course, the rest did not come to life, but..."

'Hey. Hey, you. Are you with the mail?'

Melanie looked up. A ward was opposite to her, inside of which twilight reigned. And from this darkness someone tried to establish a contact with her.

'Yes. I'm the courier.'

'Why are you sitting there? Come here, come on! I already thought you'll never come.'

Passing through the corridor on inflexible legs, Melanie went into the room, which became a habitat of the next addressee. It was not so bad inside. Only a smell was not very pleasant. Smells of rot, sweat and drugs were mixed together. But with its disgust, it brought to senses no worse than ammonia. And it still was better than an aroma in Susan's apartment, or on the twenty-third floor. Melanie coughed, but there was nothing to be surprised at all.

'Why the hell did you sit there?' the good-natured man asked sitting on the old bed. His mustache looked a bit like whiskers of walrus.

'I... Me...'

'Are you lost or what?'

Melanie nodded.

'I see. When you go back, take my map on the table. I've worked here for ten years, I know everything.'

'Are you a doctor?'

'I was. Now they call me Doctor Patient. I already think to hang a sign "Patient m.d." on the door of my house. But I'm afraid it will be long to explain everything to everyone. Moreover, my house, now, rather, here.'

Melanie turned slightly to the right, because a source of that smell, mix of loathing and sweetness, was clearly there. Rotten apples. They lay on a plate on a bedside table.

'How long did you get such a name?' the girl asked, without looking up from the apples.

'A long time already! When I retired, I lost my health. Well, I strengthen it, as I can. Maldives, healthy food, Tijuana, all sorts of quality drugs - well, I know what to choose. But all the same, old age imposes certain limitations. Also my work was hard. A couple of times I became infected with a serious flu. Once a psycho was brought... whoa, then we had a hard time. A poor nurse. She worked further with one ear. The psychiatrist was less fortunate. It is harmful to work as a doctor. Well, you understand. Now here I got to the hospital, because my wife, for some reason, decided as well go and hang herself. It seems that she does not complain at anything. Well, she has schizophrenia, and sometimes something like this happens. Now she almost managed to bring it to the end. She was resuscitated, but I was worried sick and again here. Thanks God, Darcy, her sister, has arrived.'

Doctor Patient paused, turning his head, following where Melanie was looking.

'Surprised by apples?' he smiled.

At that moment, a nurse came into the ward. It seemed as if she appeared immediately on a threshold of the ward. She had another apple in her hand, and it was added to the others. It was the same rotten condition, but a different color. Melanie immediately remembered that this nurse was among those who brought a ladder. When the apple was laid to its dead brethren, the girl saw that the nurse had no nails on two fingers, and those that were available were broken.

'Thank you, Mandy. If you will have more, bring it to me.'

The nurse named Mandy said nothing and left the room, as if disappearing into the dim light. The doctor turned to Melanie.

'Don't get me wrong, I'm normal. I just read in one book that this method helps to recover. After all, rotten apples have already died, and nothing can happen to them.'

"Well yes. Everything is normal. I always put apples near my bed to calm my soul too. And my mom does that. And my grandmother did. Good old tradition. Nothing unusual! So strange, but I didn't let it on..."

Outside a window, behind which that seemed to begin the cosmos space, the lightning flashed. Thunder did not forget to respond. Melanie went to the window, trying to discern something, but her attempts were stopped by a sudden downpour.

'Is it strange spring, huh? And this is in the desert! Could you imagine anything like that? I'm never. And I've lived here all my life. Such weather can be more likely in Alaska than here.'

"Discovery Day. Now we live in the desert. Hmm... A day, isn't it? Probably, I should not do such declarations; I even don't know how long I was here."

From the corner of her eye, Melanie felt that something was pottering around in the corner of the room. At first, having decided that it was the rat, the girl was ready to run to the side, but nothing from the fauna of abandoned buildings in the corner was found. Melanie, in this case, would prefer to see there any basement inhabitants than what was revealed in reality. A shadow moved in the corner. It seemed to grow up on a wall like small bindweed. Or rather, not even the whole shadow, because it was enough because of the abundance of objects: beds, bedside tables, droppers, some rubbish piled up, for reasons that remained for Melanie unclear - no, there were small clumps, which were crawling and moving to top. It was like small pieces of soot. The girl picked up a stick for Chinese food from one of the improvised garbage cans, and touched the clot. It broke up into three parts, and joined the other two, and then formed a new one - the third, which, immediately, began to grow to the size of its brethren. Melanie took a step backwards, but black lumps were everywhere, and from them she felt the sepulchral cold. They grew and seemed to gather together, pulling together to the center.

'So, do you have the package for me? Or a letter? Anything?'

The girl turned to Doctor Patient. She had to admit to herself that she was already beginning to forget about a presence of the old man.

'Yes. Of course, there is.' Melanie forced smile and began to look for the envelope in her bag.

"Not much is left. And here it is ... Thick, however. It's something inhomogeneous. Reminds... though..."

'Sign here, please.' Melanie handed out the form and the Doctor placed a sprawling signature.

It was impossible to disassemble something. The letters were badly distorted.

Behind Melanie's back a rustle grew up, like a roar of a crowd that began with a small one.

"It comes alive."

Melanie turned around. On the floor, on the walls, to the center of the room, and from it to the window, clots of darkness crept. They made a rustle, and then there was some whining.

'Can you see that?'

But the Doctor did not care. He unpacked the envelope and enjoyed a sight of the contents - a dense bundle of photographs from the Polaroid. One of the pictures fell to the floor, and Melanie picked it up. The picture depicted that patient with a mash instead of a face, but now she was wearing a mask and lying on a hospital bed. She definitely posed.

"This is..."

A photo fell to the floor from sweaty fingers and immediately disappeared under scurrying black lumps, which were hurrying to the window.

'Do you know this girl?' Melanie asked.

'Of course!'

'She is here, in the hospital. She has obvious problems.'

'Why are you so worried? Eat an apple!'

'She dies in the ward there! Something was done with her!'

'Everything is all right. Apples will always help you.'

'How, to hell, can it be all right?! She has a mess instead of the face.'

The doctor sat on the bed and looked attentively at Melanie.

'Remember. Now everything is fine. Carpe diem.'

A wave of cold wind passed through the room. It seemed to burst from the corridor. The wave seemed tangible, as if it was even visible! And, when she passed through the bed with the Doctor, he, in front of Melanie, fell down on pillows and fell silent. The fallen dropper nearly turned over the nightstand with which an empty plate fell off. There were no more apples in it. Fighting with fear, Melanie slowly turned to the window. A dark figure, two or two and a half meters high, was here. Neither eyes nor a face were at all. Only a silhouette of a man, collected from pieces of the dusk, what were hidden in corners of the ward, smelling of death. Not just evil, but an embodiment of the end of Being. An ideal darkness. Hands of the Creature were lengthened and fingers wriggled like snakes.

'What are you?'

A window opened on these words, and the rain poured down inside. A whole waterfall fell from the sky to the floor, passing through this Grandiose Something. He disappeared, mixed with rain and scattered in the wind.

It was necessary to somehow get out. The Doctor, who had gone aloft, was a bad helper, and Melanie had no idea where his map was. She did not exclude that he could, in his madness, to think up its existence. Escape through the window was not possible: up and down an unknown distance the gray vertical wall was. There were two ideas left: go back to the elevator or try to benefit from its cargo relative. Everything was complicated by the fact that global changes in corridors at the exit from the ward were revealed. Now it looked like an empty clinic. Glass walls of wards filled with equipment, beds and other utensils; children's drawings on walls; various inventory scattered around the floor. In some places she could see abandoned smocks of medical personnel, which were soiled with blood, most likely. The corridor bent at right angles and ended, setting against a door of a passenger elevator. Was this elevator on which Melanie came or not - it was hard to say, but it was not papery, probably? From above it was equipped with a small screen showing that the elevator was heavily rising from somewhere, but the floor was not specified. Melanie pressed a call button, which turned out to be working, and waited, hoping that the door would open on her floor.

The tinkle of falling glass. Melanie turned to the noise, just in time to notice how from one ward to another a little girl dressed in an old long T-shirt and slippers in a form of frogs went. Her blonde hair was tangled and dirty, which indicated her highly separated lifestyle. In her hand she held something like a long flap of translucent glowing matter, which she was dragging along. This piece of matter hooked on a dropper, which broke a glass of one of the ward. The girl was not bothered by this, nor anything else, what was happening.

'Hey, hello. Are you here alone?'

The girl glanced in the direction of Melanie for a moment and went on. At the moment when their glances crossed, the elevator door opened behind Melanie and someone with a loud scream threw Melanie down to the floor. She fought back as best as she could, but sharp claws of the aggressor still managed to leave her a couple of deep scratches.

'Kenny?'

Turning away from the embrace of death, Melanie turned and, without looking, punched her foot right into an ugly muzzle of a spider-like creature. Of course, this was not enough to stop him. Mutated Kenny rose from the floor, as before, leaning on his long arms, randomly sticking out of the body. Now he was wearing something in between a straitjacket and a bag for a corpse, and small horns began to grow on his head.

'You've become a disgusting creature...'

Melanie began frantically searching for weapons. Her bag was torn and threw away by a monster into a corner, so that the shocker was out of reach. At first she tried to pull out a dropper, but she was stuck in some wires. The best option was a piece of glass, which the girl wrapped in a piece of cloth, torn from a medical smock.

"The main thing is to get somewhere in the eye. This creature is very strong. I don't have a chance to make a mistake - it will kill me if I make even a little mistake."

But the girl did not have to remember the basics of self-defense. Mr. Cat was rushing along the corridor with a wild cry that was almost worse than a monster's. Even Kenny, who, it would seem, had lost touch with reality completely, was taken aback. The cat jumped to his head, and began to tear yellow skin and flesh with his claws and teeth. Kenny screamed, began to try to take off the animal, but Mr. Cat, hanging on like grim death, showed wonders of resourcefulness. Melanie, coming out of stupor, could pull out the holder for the dropper, ran to the monster, and with all her strength began to hit it on hands and a carcass, which was tightened into a dense tissue. From this pressure, Kenny began to retreat, gradually finding himself inside the lift car. Seconds of struggle, and the elevator, breaking off, flew down. Melanie jumped to the elevator and, through the closing door, managed to see only a fierce flame, raging in the dark.

### 47 | Archive

"Farewell, Mr. Cat."

The door closed, and everything around started to shake and fall apart, and from the closed elevator flame began to break out. She had not time to grieve, and Melanie, picking up her bag, ran to look for other ways to retreat or advance. On the way, she noticed that there was no girl in the ward.

"So, somehow she got out."

Behind a turn, the corridor changed again, returning to its past gray emptiness and tortuosity.

"A turn, a turn, a turn again."

Walls were cracked; the tiled floor beneath her feet was shaking. Suddenly there was a door, and behind it there was stairs.

"I'm lucky today."

Melanie closed the door tightly behind her, and all was quiet. There was even a thought to look back, but the door that did not have locks, bars, no longer opened. Despite the fact that for the first time there was an alternative to the elevator, the way down was still cut off. The staircase rested against an arched window, which was traditionally laid with bricks.

"Okay. I will finish my work. I have three more packages."

Melanie went upstairs, hoping that a rising would take as long time as before in the elevator.

Apparently, the staircase, which had become a salvation for Melanie, was used for technical purposes. Periodically came across memos for technical personnel concerned with special standards for cleaning upper rooms. It seems that the inhabitants of upper floors were even more important than all the other important inhabitants. From leaflets it followed that, starting from the forty-fifth floor, cleaning required great care and a fulfillment of special safety techniques.

"When sanitizing specialized surfaces, you should make sure that all switches are set to the third division. Do not start cleaning, if there is a presence of unauthorized persons. Turn off mobile phones and other means of communication. Avoid carrying into the room atypical items mentioned in paragraph "2.B.8" of general briefing."

"Thanks God, I don't work here."

While she was going up, Melanie noticed that walls in a stairwell were from something dirty-brown, not even close to wood. Reaching out her hand, the girl, with great surprise, found a thick paper under her fingers.

"Just a minute. If my memory serves me right..."

Her hand slipped into the bag. There was no need to pull out the contents out. Fingers, like an ultra-precise detector, automatically determined the similarity of materials. All the same paper. But, with a strong pressure, it turned out that under the paper there was familiar red bricks. The very same staircase was made of solid wood. The girl was not afraid that the staircase would break beneath her, but she could begin to burn. However, so far, no smell of smoke, no sense of heat was recorded, and the concrete floor at the bottom was clearly visible - for which thanks to the large number of lamps in this zone. The girl found rather alarming only the ceiling, which was lost somewhere in the dark. Fantasy painted that somewhere there the charred Kenny could crawl. Or someone even worse.

After a certain number of stair-wells, when her legs began to weigh a ton and her mouth was totally dry, Melanie reached the top. She could see the ceiling and was calm, even though it resembled a wall of the hospital storey. At the end of the stairs, there was a door with the number "47", which hinted at the storey. The girl checked the form, the next recipient lived here, and his signature was not required, just as it was possible to open the parcel. But first she had to get inside. The door was closed, and a huge lever protruded from the wall, which, by changing its position, did not make anything. Melanie looked around. She noticed parchment to the left of the door. Fortunately, it was easy to tear, and she found there a small panel with swivel switches, as if they belong to an old radio.

"On the third division?"

All switches were set this way, and she pulled the lever, which opened the door for this time.

"Mobile is dead for a while. But I have atypical objects, I'm sorry."

Behind the door another leaf of parchment blocked the way, but the leaf was just as thin as the previous one, and Melanie just used a knife on a keychain. A few steps in, the dim red light turned on. A murky glow showed the room, which was hidden in the darkness. A room's décor was reminiscent of a British living room in an outdated style. Everything was planked with a dark wood; on walls were horns; quite often there were floor lamps that were not connected with anything \- the light came from thousands of small diodes. Melanie, however, appreciated this innovation in the surroundings, for it was quite symbolic. The forty-seventh floor turned out to be a library. Not very large - just a few shelves, but it was easy to get lost there. Shelves stood haphazardly, and only a few of the most outermost ones obeyed the classical way of putting what was called rows.

'But chaos suits to this place more. Suitable for a style.'

Forced confidence and optimism did not really save the situation - Melanie felt physically how her eyes were close to start twitch.

"Pull yourself together. There are not many parcels. It seems three, along with this. And then I would like to go down the fire escape, with a parachute, whatever. I suspect that there are no other elevators here. But even if they are, they will bring me only to a rabbit hole. And I really would not like to be roasted. I hope someone called firefighters."

Someone cleared his throat. Very close.

"So. At least one person is here."

Melanie walked past rows, trying not to wander, but looking as far as possible into all nooks. No one was in sight.

'Is there anyone?'

Her voice turned out a little strange. High, but very quiet. Melanie cleared her throat and someone echoed it.

"So, looking for further. Here, obviously, someone is going to push a speech. Or this one picked up a cold. In my family we are often ill in the spring. I remember that my grandfather was knocking down every spring by influenza."

Along the way, Melanie was looking at the books, which there were many on the shelves. But that had not much sense. The half of books had no backs, and they began to turn into rubbish, when she trying to pull them out. Some books had been glued together, and their pages too. One of these blocks successfully fell on Melanie's leg, when the girl tried to take one volume of Leo Tolstoy.

"Well. Perfectly. I never loved him anyway."

She did not return books to their place, but tried to take some more of them. There was a new surprise. If previous books did not have backs, then new ones had only backs. Well, and piece of a book, which was clinging to the fabric illusion of their real essence. Sometimes a page might stick out of the back, or even a couple. Many of them were deceptive, because they could turn out to be a newspaper sheet, or a clean piece of office paper. And not always clean - some were stained with coffee stains. Another subspecies of books was similar to what it should be. But there was not a single symbol on their covers, as well as on their pages. Sometimes pages were covered with absolutely incomprehensible languages, and covers also could not say anything. Melanie got tired of literature's choice where nothing to choose was, and she continued to inspect rows. She reached outermost rows, which had already been well-ordered. A first row was empty. There was only an office chair, the dent on which denoted someone's recent presence. An open book lay on the floor. A doll with nails in its head lay on top of the book. The girl did not come closer, but could see a picture in the book - something round with a bunch of pointers and signatures. The next row was more interesting, but was as meaningless and uninformative as the first one. From a shelf to a shelf a cobweb was stretched. It was like a spider's web, but if a machine, which represented a spider, used steel threads looked like silk.

"The girl was dragging exactly the same!"

Nobody, most likely, tried to eliminate this free weaving.

"It's logical. To whom here it may be necessary here."

The next third row was clearly more interesting, but Melanie quickly realized that it would be better if she walked pass by, and not had taken an interest in contents. At first the girl thought that here she was met by a cobweb, but, looking closely with help of barely a living reddish light, Melanie realized that this was the same substance that made up the Black Man from the hospital. This time, it was transparent and resembled more likely clots of glue, which closed the passage from the shelf to the shelf. It was in the manner of the web in the previous row and, actually, connected with it. Melanie, as charmed, watched as dark clumps swim inside the web, separating from the general pulsating mass. The girl's hand itself was already reaching out for it, but suddenly the familiar cough behind her brought her to life. A stranger stood behind Melanie. His exact age was difficult to predict: something from thirty-five to fifty. Neither old nor particularly young, but he seemed terribly sick. Melanie's heart missed a beat. On his bony hands another cat, but white, was sitting. He also had a collar on which the "Mr. Cat" was engraved.

The stranger shook his head, as if hinting that touching the web was not worth it, and really shouldn't touch a clot in neighborhood. Melanie, thinking that she would not have done in anyway ...

"Of course, not!"

...approached. The man seemed even more exhausted with a closer look and in the dim light the lamps resembled a mummy. He had withered face, more than a sickly thinness, eyes with bluish-black circles under them. It was like not even a mummy, but some kind of spirit.

"The Library Ghost."

The ghost shook his head again, as though refuting Melanie's thoughts.

The cat on his hands yawned, moved to his shoulder. The Ghost, with free hands, beckoned the girl to go with him, beginning to move away. Shrugging, Melanie, not seeing other options, followed the next, as she thought, the recipient.

"Straight, right, left, right, right, left."

Then the Ghost stopped and began to carefully study the next shelf. Melanie immediately noticed the cat that with even greater interest was looking on book's backs. Melanie approached shelves too. Most of the names and authors were familiar to her, but still the fresh pain in her leg, left from the previous desire to "read through something," made her be cautious. The girl extracted a volume of Guy de Maupassant. A couple of manipulations were enough to make sure - this was quite a normal book. Only someone pulled out a page with a table of contents, and the text was in French.

'So that's where books live in this place.'

The ghost did not answer, but as if to confirm the theory, the cat purred loudly, breaking common silence. The ghost, meanwhile, pulled one of the books off the shelf and, with great interest, began to read the first page.

'Umm... Which books do you prefer?'

Zero attention to questions. It seemed that he, in general, heard everything, but did not react specially. Like if he did not consider it necessary.

'What kind of place is it? A strange library, where half of the books are fake.'

Without a word, the Ghost turned around and began to slowly leave. After a couple of seconds, he had already disappeared behind one of the shelves.

'Wait! Are you offended or what? I have for you ... Shit!'

Melanie rushed after him, but as if darkness swallowed the dweller of the dismal library.

"Maybe he was caught in the web of this something ... how to call it?"

The girl already had plenty of fight in one and decided to go free the half-dead recipient of the parcel. She turned around and moved towards the row with cobwebs, but everything turned out to be easier. In one of the walls there was a closet. The large closet. The ghost had nowhere to get out of it. Melanie approached uncertainly and knocked. Silence.

'Are you there? I have the package for you.'

A familiar cough came from nowhere, and everything died down.

"Do you have any other cats?"

There was nothing to do. Melanie looked around and saw that the book that the stranger had pulled off the shelf lay on the table beside her. The volume of Edgar Poe, from which for some reason someone tore out a dozen pages. Straight from the middle.

"Well, what should I do now?"

Rummaging through the bag, the girl took the package with the floor number. When she opened it, Melanie found a thick book in expensive cover. The title read that "The Best Books: only the present."

"A personal guide to the local library, huh? So. The signature is not required if believe the list. That's all with this floor."

The case was made, but a question remained - how to get out. For a start, it was decided to go to the stairs. After a little wandering, Melanie realized that this was not so easy. The room seemed to be bigger; the lighting became dimmer, and rows blocked the last visibility.

"Maybe try to crack the closet?"

She examined the library, hoping to find tools for hacking. She leant against the wall. Suddenly the parchment cracked, bricks fell, and Melanie fell inside.

### 57 | Mu

Bad sewer communications had determined the course of events. A certain force made a small hole in a pipe, and oozing dirt washed away brickwork, which, probably, was also not laid well enough. Melanie was a final nail in the coffin of the wall, and the parchment, which was used rather as wallpaper, could not stand even a child. Melanie fell in the next room, not having realized anything. The fall was not painful. Something soft, pleasant to the touch, but a little wet met her face, and became a shock absorber for the body. The girl opened her eyes not at once, because she did not want to know what were under her. It could be anything. For example hair on someone's giant head. To the touch it was exactly like that.

"You have to get up on count three. It is necessary."

Quickly leaping to her feet, Melanie looked first down, then up. As it turned out, there was a wonderful lawn underneath with strong juicy and moist grass. And the room was not a room in traditional way. The floor was uneven, but it was just a floor, perhaps, a wooden one, but grass grew on it. In unevenness, water accumulated, forming dirty puddles. The ceiling was more interesting. There was a real sky, except for the fact that there were traces of splicing, and in some places it went up at an angle. The sun was replaced by an incomprehensible bright white glow, which, at the same time, was not similar to artificial. With all this, the rain drizzled like a real one.

"Maybe it's a very bright diode. But why is the light so flat?"

Walls were not found. As far as eyes could see, a gorgeous lawn reached in all directions and merged with the sky on the horizon. Melanie turned in the direction from which she had just fallen out. A wooden structure was installed on a small elevation. It propped up a dilapidated brick structure. Inside it, obviously, there was no any library. At best, there could be placed three or four photo booths.

"Maybe there are some corridors and alleys, maze of shelves, as in the library? But they, for example, are transparent! I hope that this black muck is not transparent. What does it want from me? Obviously, nothing good. It killed that doctor; it turned Kenny into this being. Cat ... Oh, I'm already starting to miss. But he's not even mine. And not so long with me. I wonder how much time has passed already. I feel that could pass a day, a month, and a couple of minutes. Although, I still do not wanna eat. It means I did not spend so much time here. So our acquaintance with the cat was not so long. But how long did I was here before the meeting with the Priest? By the way, I'm worried about the white fellow of the cat. Could be there, in this building, a farm for breeding in excess of intelligent cats? The white one even has the same name."

Standing in one place was as useless as looking at rags sticking out of a brick box, from which Melanie had recently fallen. The rain, gradually gaining momentum, continued to flood this place from above. Of course, Melanie fell into its cold embrace too, becoming one of the tools for its slightly nasal song. Shuddering, shaking the drops off the skin, the girl moved forward. She chose this direction at random, because everything around was the same: a green lawn, champing mud under feet, a beautiful blue sky with traces of splicing. Everything looked as if on this floor there was a playground for mini-golf, but only "mini" was the wrong word.

"I wonder if I will walk in this room for a long time, can I reach an edge and fall from a height of 60 floors to the ground in front of the hotel. What a picture it will be! A deserted single road, a house without windows, a beginning of the wasteland, and a smeared corpse. How long will it take before anybody fined me and took me off the asphalt? Then they'll bury me, like Susan, in complete surrealism. And I will become black rubbish... Oh, God, I'm pissed off! My legs hurt, I want to sleep. And, yes, I'm extremely interested, is there a toilet here? Okay, the main thing is not to fall off the edge. And this marvelous field should not end. Oh!"

The same Melanie's foot that suffered from the attack of the Great Russian classic, met with a stone, which separated the floor and stuck out. Mushrooms grew around him.

"Even the stone is telling me: "Look under your feet. The earth can suddenly end. Just before the wall." It's possible. The earth will end and I'll fly. And I will end up as a dried butterfly on the asphalt, or I hover for ever somewhere in the cosmos. So, one more stone. And further. Maybe I get closer to some mountain, which for a long time scattered its children in all directions from themselves. But something... Somehow..."

Neither the rock nor anything else large on the horizon appeared. And no people were there too. Or just anything alive. Melanie caught herself thinking that she did not want to see people. Especially local ones. Another thing - a couple of local cats. But, alas.

"How much longer do I have to walk? And also it is necessary to come back. I do not even know should I go this way. In this place it is not difficult to make a mistake. I have two more parcels. Where should I look for these people? "

At that moment, somewhere deep down in her soul, Melanie had the first consent that, in fact, everything seemed real to her. As if every day things like that happened. As if she had already seen it, but with the condition that the reality, which already worked out, was taken and stretched over the absolute chaos that had risen from non-existence.

"I reason really strange. It seemed like a Lovecraft's journey."

There was a small hill ahead, which made possible to take advantage of the elevations and get a better view. Melanie scrambled up and looked around. The terrain began to change to the east - there were many stones, and even something like fragments from rocks was further. The course was taken exactly in this way. When the rocky terrain was reached, Melanie sat down to rest. While her tired feet were recovering, she looked at stones. To the left suddenly there was a stone, which was a bit strange, if not to say more. A different color and it seemed like wooden.

"Maybe this is a stump?"

But it wasn't a stump, a miniature tree or a wooden turtle, for example. A small stool stood on specially chosen place. Not literally chosen, but it looked like. It just stood there and that's it. Without any hints that someone forgot it here. It seemed to be here always and grew out of the earth. Now it could be approached and "ripped off" like a large mushroom.

"Large wooden mushroom."

On this mushroom, meanwhile, a couple of objects lay. An ashtray that was clean, as if was recently bought in a tobacco shop. A compass. And a paper sheet - a note. Its content was as follows:

I will not come. The white beast, which made a waterfall on the main street, cost us a lot of money. Now it's always raining here. You dare to settle the thought in the most secluded corners, and now you cannot control it. Mirrors are no here anymore. Enter methods are not available. At lower levels there was something that I cannot describe. Cameras show people, but, when I go down, it all disappears. What is it? Explain to me. We need a new specialist. I cannot manage it. PS: Sewage is leaky.

And lower in another handwriting.

Leave here! Then to the right.

"Well, suppose the latter is a recommendation for the courier, and... They want to say that the exit to the right of the stool?"

Melanie recalled as she came to the stones, and then turned right.

"I suppose it is the right way. I wonder what they are talking about on top. Let's assume that lower levels are lower floors of the hotel. There's really no one there. And what is the beast? Well, it was write not for me anyway. Maybe they communicate here in this way. There are everything is not quite sane in this place, and the mind has turn to madness."

Melanie rummaged in her bag.

"Two parcels. One seemed completely empty. Only a packing. Probably there is a letter. And here... What do we have here?"

In the parcel, which was intended for the local nonexistent ...

"Or invisible?"

... inhabitant, a beautiful box was. An ordinary casket, but it was made from some kind of soft material. It was like plastic, which was always in the molten state, but at the same time was hard, or plasticine, which did not stick to hands.

"I should not open it. Moreover, everything is tied up with a ribbon. And I have only an instruction to open the parcel, but not further. They again will complain that we crushed the packaging, spoiled the design and so on. I lose my mind with your parcels and I'm not complaining. In any case, I should stay the best worker."

A gust of wind flew, sprinkled Melanie with a bunch of drops. The weather said to hurry, and the girl returned to the planned path, which the author of the note recommended. Everything was done according to instructions. The girl began to make her way through fragments of rock and grass, which became taller and diluted with bushes of thistles.

"It cannot be..."

A brand new elevator appeared in front of her. It was the exact copy of the first one, which Melanie saw in the lobby of the hotel. It stood, mounted in something like a huge transparent glass tube that goes under the ceiling. The door was invitingly opened. And it was not clear what it was: the rapacious mouth or the kind greeting of an old friend.

"Now I will sit in it and go straight to heaven... or get stuck in the texture."

One step inside, the line of a door was passed, and it closed behind the girl. A second before the moment, when the elevator door cut off Melanie from room on the fifty-seventh floor, there were breath of spring and warm.

"Yes. Spring is getting closer every day. And it is a warm spring. Official one. Not this rainy dirty misunderstanding. But I can rejoice the rain anyway. It seems that the black thing is afraid of water."

The elevator moved upward, cutting through the glow that swept the ceiling, and problems arrived at the same time. The light went out. A smell of naphthalene and some abomination struck Melanie's nostrils. It seemed that somewhere a medium-sized dead dog entangled in the theatrical curtain was becoming increasingly rotten. Melanie did not even feel it by her nose, but the brain.

"If we're talking about the smell of fear..."

Something absolutely disgusting, something absolutely the opposite of life, if not reality, was growing up. The girl could not see it yet, and did not want to. But no one was going to ask her, of course. Melanie got ready and the guest showed up. The last and most eerie mime in her tragicomedy.

The door opened, in order to show the blackness, broken by red light into thousands of debris. And over this masterpiece of Cubism a gloomy guest was approaching. It was like the stains of oil on the water, the micro particles of the blackest something gathered together. They thirsted and trembled, in order to reveal their essence in all its glory. Through darkness, Darkness moved. The other one. The absolute one. And the girl did not have an outlet. She could only wait and watch it. Surprisingly, there was some kind of protection in the elevator. A relative peace. Maybe it was false, but it was closer to reality than anything else.

The final touch - and the picture, which probably worth to call the "Black Man", was absolutely ready. The creature, about two meters tall, clutching at the open doors, turned its face to Melanie. The face was only guessed. There were only general features. A mouth, a nose, something like hair, pressed together, and a pair of eyes that shone from the inside with the same light, which was muddy, bloody, and otherworldly, as if filled with scenic smoke. The Black Man opened its mouth, stretching out the matter from which he was composed, and sighed hoarsely. All this time its long, flexible hands and endless fingers made their way to the elevator shaft, stopping the cable and mechanisms. And this smell. Consciousness became dim and ears popped on. And yes, it was the smell of death, but not the one with rotting and larvae. Another one. The absolute one. That one, when even maggots died in suffering. The Black Man opened its mouth again. This time some words flew from its lips. To disassemble or to understand anything was still impossible. Melanie also noticed that the creature continued to get bigger: more and more black clots reached to it. Like a pack of mice, they quickly walked on the floor, moving their tails. Some, indeed, mice resembled, what added fear. Melanie absolutely didn't like rodents.

"If there would have been Mr. Cat, I would have been calmer."

As if it was catching a train of Melanie's thoughts about a cat, the creature shuddered. Through his dark matter slightly and only for a moment something like brown vessels appeared. But they were again drowned in the same moment in this stormy sea of chaos, embodied in the likeness of man.

'You...'

'Wh... What?'

'Do you remember?'

'What are you talking about? Wait ... Are you talking?'

The creature, slightly, shook its head, bending over. It either lacked strength, or vocabulary.

'The key that...'

'Listen, if you want to talk, then maybe you'll explain what's going on here?'

'It should not have been...'

'This should not have happened? But this is my job. I would go here anyway.'

'No.'

"The phrase is so short that it even finished it. Only it clears up nothing. What is "no"?"

'Everything has been canceled.'

'I do not understand you, really.'

'No.

"And again."

'I also say that no. What are you, anyway? And these yours friends in masks...'

'They think that the main characters. Crowd scene...'

'Again please?'

'Soon...'

'Will they come again?'

'No.'

'You are like a robot of some kind.'

'I scared her. I'm here.'

'What?'

"You scared everyone. Why it need this specification?"

'Who are you scared of? Susan?'

'Her. You saw.'

'I do not quite understand what you mean.'

'You were deceived. He's been here a long time. The last mirror is broken.'

'Who deceived me?'

'In your bag...'

'The customer?'

The Black Man shook its head again, it seemed, even doomed.

'It is necessary... to finish... There is no access to memory.'

'Well yes. I have one more package.'

'No... easy... but it's not true...'

'I understand nothing.'

'Soon.'

The red flash and it disappeared. Only slippery remnants on the door drained despondingly, becoming transparent. Like that symbiosis with imitation of cobwebs, in the library.

"And what will happen soon? Everything can be possible now. Blood from the ceiling. Zombies. Two of these demons in masks. But not you... You may want to say something, but I clearly do not want to hear you and do not want to see you. No. Thank you."

The elevator moved from its place. The smell began to dissipate under the influence of some new. Melanie sniffed. It was the smell that appears before the rain. And the atmosphere inside was hard like before the rain. This could not continue for a long time, and the first drops fell from the ceiling. Raising her head, the girl was convinced that the roof of the elevator was missing. It was there before or not - a question. In a heap of events, Melanie did not pay attention. Above her head was only a square of white glow, as if someone had installed a powerful searchlight in the elevator shaft.

"Maybe I'm going to Paradise? Fortunately, I'm not in a trivial horror movie, where everything is explained by delirium before dying."

She laughed nervously.

"In Paradise, probably, there is no rain. But here it is. And, contrary to the opinions, it was going to go forever. And why not?"

It was warm, almost summer, fine rain. Drops fell from above one after another, leaving no puddles, and only making the clothes heavier. But to get wet, you had to wait an eternity with rain like this. And the elevator, obviously, did not think to wait. It was gradually slowing down its move.

'Soon,' Melanie repeated the words of the Black Man. 'The last parcel.'

The lift car was almost not moving. It was possible to catch only the weak hum of the mechanisms, what mean that the movement was still going on. The screen above the door revived, and wrote in red letters "penthouse". The door opened. Everything was quiet. Only a drop of rain fell on the floor, marking each step. It was like a weak applause that was going to grow into something more: in a downpour, a flurry, madness.

### Penthouse

Lamps for the last time blinked and went out. The screen instead of the floor number showed only some hieroglyphs and then also went out. Silence that enveloped the elevator spread faster than fingers of the Black Man, which penetrating the mechanisms a few seconds ago. Silence seemed to get inside the veins, spreading rapidly and hitting the brain with its infection. The elevator died and seemed like froze in its own abyss. Personalized Mu. It played his part. And as soon as its single passenger, chasing away mist of silence, stepped out of the cab away, the door immediately slammed shut, and the lift car flew down with appalling speed to join its predecessor. Whistles, rattling, and a subsequent deafening roar. Without a doubt, the elevator turned into a heap of useless debris, cutting off the path to retreat.

Melanie stood and, not knowing what to say and what to think, she looked at the motionless door. Pressing a call button, which was present for a change, of course led to nothing. She could devote an eternity to pushing the button, but it would only take time. Melanie felt that time cannot be spent. What was the reason, she could not explain even for herself. Only there was such a ridiculous feeling that something hurried her. By this, leaving the elevator in peace, and deciding that she will deal with it later, the girl plunged into the world of another room. The room, at first glance, was one of the most adequate. The girl even could call it chic. She was confused only by one thing: the ruthless feeling of the flowing time, which was settled into the heart and the head.

On the top floor Melanie was met by a small hallway, covered in red velvet, decorated with deer heads, which staring with their dead glass eyes on the guest. A white antique statue stood in the corner, in the other - a leather armchair. Not a piece of dust, not the slightest flaw. Every detail was calibrated to a millimeter. And ahead there was a long corridor, whose floor was laid out tricolor tiles with a pattern of a meandering line. Round lamps in the corridor walls indicated the way forward. Melanie, taking signals of the lights for instructions, went in search of the owner of luxury apartments, to which, in her opinion, this velvet canal, connecting a lake of the hall with some large ocean, was supposed to lead. Step by step, all forwards and forwards. In the head time was tapped by invisible hours, sending out a feeling of anxiety in girl's heart. Melanie went forward, and the lamps, feeling her approach, lit up brighter. Step, flash, step, fade. It was like light show.

The next room appeared. Equally charming antique statues, brand new red velvet were there. Heavy, bloody curtains covering one of the walls. On the other side of the dense matter there was a dim light, as if there was a television or a weak spotlight on it. There was a new portion of leather furniture in this dinner of luxury. Light from floor and wall lamps, clearly showed the door at the other end of the room.

Melanie did not notice anything. Her attention was riveted by a single window, or rather what could be observed through it. The spectacle behind the glass paralyzed her body for a moment and squeezed lungs. Other apartment resembling a hospital, which looked like the one that she saw before was on the other side. Or it seemed that it was. The room on the other side was full of people whose faces were familiar to Melanie. Unfortunately, now they were already familiar. The girl quickly recognized Susan in the crowd. Now she was dressed in dirty rags, and with open mouth pulled her hands to the glass, scratching it by nails. Behind her, stubbornly trying to get around the crazy cat lady, there was a priest. His hands were in blood, and blood was on his disgusting snout. Then there was the unrecognizable burnt-out rock musician, who made a mess. Next - the maniac in a new suit, who stained his shirt with blood. There were also people with whom Melanie talked outside the hotel. For example a few old customers and her supervisor with a very sad face, what was unusual for him. Kenny closed the procession. He was in his usual form, twitching his head. Not giving herself a big report in actions, Melanie, grabbing one of the lamps, threw it in the window, leading to a strange world. Fortunately, or not, someone had canceled the laws of physics. Bouncing back, the lamp knocked the girl off her feet. The sound of contact with the glass rather reminded a blow to the metal. The image outside the window disappeared, like the lamp hit not in the glass, but pressed a button on the TV and switched the channel. Melanie, rubbing her bruised shoulder, went to the window, hoping to see there any levers, or a banal switch that extinguished the light in the hospital corridors. No, nothing like that was there. The usual wooden frame did not justify such bold hopes. Attempts to see something on the other side also did not lead to anything. A life decided to complicate this task, so, after a second, the glass began to become covered with raindrops, flowing downwards, forming a single large drop. It immediately reminded Melanie the appearance of the Black Man, but something prompted her \- the appearance of a creature gathering from the dusk of rooms would not happen again. At least, not here and not now.

"By the way, when they were there, then there was no sound. Now the rain is soundless. No knock on the glass surface. It's as if it's all drawn."

Melanie finally crossed the room. With her lateral vision, she noted some new changes outside the window, but she managed to hold on, and not turn around. The brain obviously did not need another portion of delirium. Especially, not so much its own, as imposed by a strange reality around. The next door was opened with a flash drive, about which Melanie already forgot. The electronic lock worked here on the same principle - insert and rotate.

The last room was just huge. On velvet walls of it there were reproductions of paintings and neon signs, like the one that hung at the entrance to the "Mare Tranquillitatis", or those what were placed above entrances to the bar or a nightclub. Some of the signs were flashing, others shone permanently. It was peculiar in this situation that it was not inscriptions like "Guinness" or "Pepsi". Some of the dates, and sometimes the surnames, were written with light bulbs. About hundreds of such inscriptions. The room turned out to be a two-tiered one, and Melanie hit upon the top level. Among the abundance of statues, leather and excellent wooden furniture, stairs was found, which brought everyone in lower level with a large spacious room, adjacent to the first. Having a lot of space, the room contained a billiard table, several slot machines, a bar rack. And a body.

Melanie did not believe her eyes, but she had to. In front of her, on the floor a girl lay. Her clothes were soaked with blood, flowing from wounds in her shoulder and numerous cuts all over her body. Blood flowed on the floor, as if curving under a pattern that had begun in the corridor. The unlucky woman was still stirring.

"What should I do? What should I do!?"

Melanie was ready to run up to the victim, but then felt that her bag had become heavier at several times. After that another old acquaintances emerged from the darkness. As always, the apathetic beak-nosed, and his friend on the verge of a nervous breakdown. They approached the girl dying on the floor - each with their own gait - and bowed their heads. And then they looked at Melanie in unison, and so frozen. Under their glances, the desire to hurry disappeared.

Melanie looked into her purse.

"A large parcel."

Shrugging her shoulders, she put her hand into bowels of the empty bag, and then pulled out a heavy bundle.

'UNWRAP IT!'

These mimes screamed in chorus the last words and again retired into the darkness.

'And what is this? Heavy...'

"Based on the marks in documents, I can do it anyway, so what... why I should wait?"

While she was unwrapping the paper, Melanie came into a strange state - a mix of horror, surprise and some degree of delight. She held a revolver in her hand. It was old, but obviously still working. It was something like Smith and Wesson M1917. She did not really understand in weapons, but she saw such model in a clever book, which was showed by one gun baron.

"It weighs clearly more than a kilogram."

The revolver was loaded.

"One third of the weight on cartridges."

'And what am I supposed to do with this?'

The masks were silent. Apparently, they completely retired from the event horizon. Another character appeared on the stage. He was unknown, but as if was familiar, probably, because he was important. That was how Melanie felt. A man in a good suit from one of the famous brands; Japanese watch was gleaming on his right hand, and on his feet new polished shoes were. When the girl was looking at him, she got a headache. Of course, she quickly remembered this strange character. She remembered how, in a daze, he stood under her windows for ages ago.

'Hey. Help her!'

But the stranger did not react. For him, Melanie as if did not exist. In prostration, he approached the girl on the floor.

'What are you going to do? Hey!'

In this moment he woke up. Melanie met his gaze, and saw the blackness in his eyes. The living ghoulish blackness was the most terrible monster in the local bestiary. The man pulled the pistol from his holster and looked at the quiet person on the floor. Melanie took aim.

"I do not know how to shoot with that thing. It's easier for me to use a shocker. Or a dropper. But the shocker is too risky. But in that case ... What am I going to do?"

'I can shoot with this thing!'

"No."

'Drop the gun now! Throw it to the ground!'

"I need to watch police movies less"

He again looked at Melanie with his eyes, full of black turbidity.

'Is it... as Hell?' he tried to smile.

"Farewell, the bonus. I loved you by default."

Melanie shot.
