She doesn't look aside, she got used to consider this a work but it's something wrong with me. I can feel a cold lump in my chest, quick and pungent like a snow in the frost. I swallow some air and say:

– Do you really have to work so much… Madam?

Vika goes to the window and asks without turning back:

– How did you find out?

– I felt it.

– Leave Leonid. Leave forever, okay?

– No.

– Why the hell do you pester me? – shouts Vika turning back, – Why the hell would you need a prostitute as a friend? Get out! I like that, okay? I like to fuck a hundred of times a day, to change bodies, to order the girls around and to pretend that I'm one of them! Is it clear? Is it?

I just stand there waiting for her to vent it out, then pad closer and stand by her side by the window.

I can't talk now and can't touch her, but it's dangerous to stay silent either, though I have no choice and I wait for I don't know what.

The mountains start and the floor begins to shake under the feet. Vika shouts clinging to the window-sill, I grab her by the shoulder and set the second hand against the wall. The earth is quivering, the white mountain caps start flowing with a white smoke, stretching down tentacles of avalanches. The huge rock whirls down by the window.

– Mommy… – whispers Vika sinking on the floor, looks like she is more excited than scared, – Duck, Lenia!

I fall down beside her and just in time – a good load of stony shrapnel blows into the window.

– Fifth degree at least! – shouts Vika, – Seventh!

– Eighth! – I suggest. Hardly had she ever seen the real earthquakes, otherwise she wouldn't be so cheerful now.

The hut's floor is still shaking but much less now, with a small convulsive shiver.

– Cool, – whispers Vika sprawling on the floor. I catch her look and touch her cheek gently, – Don't be mad at me Lenia.

– I'm not.

– The customers… piss me off sometimes.

– The Cap? – I remember.

– Exactly.

– Who is he?

Vika shrugs.

– I don't know. He wears different bodies and doesn't tell anything about himself. He only… – she smirks, – always wears a cap. That's why his nick.

– Is he a sadist?

– Yes, maybe… but a special one.

Her lips whisper a short obscenity.

– You what, accept any customers here? Even those who make you climb the walls?

Vika stays silent.

– I thought you sort out the worst idiots. If it's possible to identify Cap beforehand…

– We accept everyone.

– What is it, a kind of the company honor? "Any Amusements"?

– You might assume that.

Looks like the earthquake is over, I rise and look into the window. Avalanches still move, the river below is blocked by landslide and fills in slowly, searching for the new bed.

– It calmed down, – I whisper involuntarily, as if my words can wake the nature up again, – Vika, why did you make the earthquake?

– I don't have anything to do with it. This world lives by itself, I don't have any control over it anymore.

– Not at all?

Vika glances at me, rises and studies the changed landscape.

– Absolutely. The world becomes real only when it gains freedom.

– Just as a human.

– Sure.

– Do you believe in freedom so much?

– You don't have to believe in freedom. When you have it, you can feel it yourself.

I think I expected her to say these words.

– Vika, what if some man… a good man is in trouble… If he can lose his freedom forever… would you agree to help him?

– I would, – she replies calmly, – Even if he's not that good a man. This is a principle of a sort if you want.

– I need to hide somebody.

Vika shakes her head in some funny manner, so that her hair scatter on her shoulders.

– Lenia, what are you talking about? Hide where?

– In virtuality.

– What for?

– He can't exit.

– You're talking about the one in "Labyrinth"?

– Yes.

– Lenia… – Vika holds my hand, – How long ago were you in the real world?

– Half an hour ago.

– Really? Don't you need some help yourself? I have… – she bites her lip, – one familiar diver. It's true, they really exist!

How funny…

– Do you want me to ask him to meet you?

– Vika…

She calms down.

I'm not used to such care, to be honest. This is my profession – to take care of people who got lost in virtuality.

– I'll help, – says Vika, – But you're wrong… I think.

I don't have time for arguments now.

– Thank you. Are your security systems reliable enough?

– Quite. Do you understand something in that?

I nod. Of course, I can't create the security program myself but I had to break those so many times that it's high time to consider myself an expert.

– You can talk to the Wiz about that.

– Will he tell me?

– Not to you, and neither to me, but to Madam…

Vika hesitates and looks at me as if asking to leave. I go to the door, but she calls:

– Lenia.. Don't. I want you to look.

She pads to the wall, waves her hand and the boards part, opening a small door.

It's a light behind it, a cold bluish lifeless light. Vika's silhouette stays in the doorway for a second, then disappears inside and I follow her even if I don't want that at all, like hypnotized.

It's a shed. Or a morgue. Or Blue Beard's museum.

Shiny nickel coated hooks stick out from the walls, human bodies hang on them, almost reaching the floor with their feet, girls for the most part, light and dark haired, several reddish ones, one is completely bald. Also several middle-aged women and a couple of old ones, several girls and boys.

All eyes are opened and empty.

– This is my costumier room, – says Vika. I stay silent, I can understand that anyway.

Vika walks along slightly rocking bodies, looking into the dead faces, whispering something as if in greeting. Madam is hanging somewhere in the end of the first dozen. Vika looks back at me making sure I'm watching and snugs close to the splendid body of the brothel owner, hugs it as if in the outburst of perverted passion.

Nothing happens for a second, then – I can't catch the moment of change

– Vika and Madam change places. Not Vika but Madam backs from the helplessly hanging body.

– That's it, – says Madam in her low voice.

– Why… in such a disgusting way? – I ask, – These hooks… this morgue… why? Vika?

Madam looks at Vika, nods sadly:

– Vika my dear, why? Should we explain to Lenia?

Vika, threaded on the hook by her nape stays silent.

– In order to never forget, Leonid. Not to forget for even a second – they are not alive.

I look at Madam, far more calm and wise than Vika, and if to approach it unbiased – much more beautiful.

– You had to see it, – says Madam.

– I have.

We exit the 'human meat warehouse' through the other door, the one that leads into Madam's room. This is a completely different world. There's a noisy and crowded beach behind the window, the hot sun in the sky, the room itself is full of luxurious old furniture, books are scattered everywhere along with opened candy boxes, clothes, cheap jewelry and golden bracelets, half-empty perfume bottles, playing cards. The huge bed under the plush canopy is uncovered, the slipper is lying under it. A variety of started bottles is in the sideboard, the dusty guitar hangs on the wall, Persian carpet on the floor is bitten by moth and is stained with wine in patches.

– Now you can try to guess which me is a real one, – says Madam.

I ain't going to. There's no other truth in the world except the one we want to believe in anyway.

We don't stay in Madam's room for long and I'm glad about that very much, it's too stiffly in there.

– Lenia, sometimes I tend to think that you're just a young boy, – says Madam, – one can't be so naive after all.