The beginning of the fall

My whole body felt like it was on fire. Every nerve was crying out in pain. With difficulty, I leaned against the car seat with my shoulder to relieve my back. A dull pain pulsed through my spine. The operation had been done sloppily, so I felt some stitches tearing. Under the sweater, I felt sticky blood. I tried to adjust my jacket, which was slipping off my shoulders, but in doing so, I brushed against my broken left arm. I gritted my teeth to avoid screaming, but a silent moan still escaped me. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the taxi driver casting a frowning look at me in the rearview mirror. I couldn't tell if he was worried about me or if he was just afraid, I would die in the car without paying.

I tried with all my might to calm down, but it was basically impossible after everything I had experienced that evening. What am I going to do? They will come after me. Is it even reasonable to go back home to Vasja and Katja in this state? What else can I do, though? I can't leave them there alone. They’d worry themselves sick.

At that moment, I caught a fleeting sound of beautiful music flowing from the radio. I immediately recognized Schubert's Serenade. It was a miracle that they even played something like that. The cramp in my body eased a bit, and a warm wave of energy washed over me. It was as if I had returned home from a long and arduous journey.

"Could... could you let it play?" I whispered when I saw that the driver wanted to switch the station. He glanced at me over his shoulder with a scowl and shrugged silently. The string tones were complemented by the noise of the big city outside the windows.

Tears suddenly started rolling down my cheeks. Music evoked happiness in me, but at the same time, immeasurable longing. I longed so much to pick up my old violin and play a few tender notes. At that very moment, I realized that nothing will be the same again. I was sobbing quietly, and because of those jerky movements, my broken body started to ache again. I felt so powerless despite all the power I had gained. It was like someone had given a loaded gun to a child. What would a child like me do with a gun? I asked myself. 

Memories of the horrors of the past few hours crowded into my mind like uninvited guests. I couldn't resist that flood. I was swept away by it like a flimsy dam.

I stood in front of a small, Chinese noodle shop. It was in the back alleys where the houses clawed up to the heavens shrouded in smoke and smog. The view of that orange slush was obscured by dozens of electric wires. The air there was hot and stuffy, which was something I thought was impossible in Stalingrad. 

Even when Jura offered me the job, I didn't really like it, but it was only now, I started to realize the weight of my decision. An irresistible urge began to simply to turn around and flee from that labyrinth, sprouted within me.

"So, are we going inside?" 

I turned to Jura, who spoke to me, and once again scrutinized him with a doubtful look. He has completely changed since the last time we saw each other, but that was years ago when we finished high school, and he dumped me on the last day before summer break. But he wasn’t a bad person or at least I thought that. Back then, we just didn't understand each other very well, nothing more. He used to be a boy with tousled straw-coloured blond hair and a cheeky smile. I remember he was always a bit arrogant, but deep down he was kind. He was as poor as I was, so he could never afford body augmentations. That's exactly why I was even more surprised when I ran into him at the store a few days ago, and he was literally covered in implants. His entire arms were metal, and so was his neck. He also had digitalized eyes, and those were mainly made in America. It was damn hard to get them here in the Soviet Union. I noticed that an unnatural neon light occasionally flickered in them. Maybe he had something under his clothes too, but I didn't check. This was all something that someone like Jura, whom I knew, couldn't afford. I also started to realize that these are not practical implants for daily use. Even though I wasn't very familiar with it, I realized they were military implants. In my mind, I cursed myself for not noticing it earlier. But now it was already too late to withdraw from the job anyway.

Jura must have noticed my doubtful look. He cautiously tried to pat me on the back, but I instinctively flinched. I immediately felt ashamed of it.

"Come on, it'll be fine. Believe me. It will be just a quick operation. We'll put the implant in, test it, and then take it out again. It's just that. Toki is excellent, he wouldn't make a mistake while operating even if he wanted to," he assured me with a calm voice.

"What... what exactly is this augmentation?" I stammered. I felt foolish for only trying to find out about such things now, but when Jura offered me the job, I accepted it almost immediately. I desperately needed to make some money, and I didn't have time to find out anything more specific about it.

Jura took a drag from the electronic cigarette, and when he spoke to me, his breath smelled of a disgustingly chemical orange flavour. "The boss didn't specify it to me, but it will probably be some kind of muscle enhancement or something. Nothing complicated. It should be a quick job.”

"Can you promise me that I won't be paralyzed after that, or... or that it won't kill me?"

"Things like that basically never happens. You can be calm, I promise. And above all, you'll get two hundred thousand rubles for it, and that's worth it, don't you think?” He kindly patted me on the back and offered me a cigarette. I dismissed him with a wave of my hand.

I inhaled the stifling air laced with smog and nodded to Jura that we can set off.

The noodle shop was just a small, cramped room, crowded with plastic chairs and tables covered with checkered tablecloths. The walls were covered with Chinese posters. They were advertisements for Asian specialties and caricatures of Western politicians. This was in stark contrast to the proudly posted red-and-black poster of a smiling Mao Zedong and Stalin shaking hands as long-time friends. The room was empty except for the owner, who stood behind the counter, bored. However, he perked up a bit when he saw us. In slightly broken Russian, he said: "They are already waiting for you in the back." Then he mumbled something in his native language and cackled. Confused, I looked at my companion, who appeared just as bewildered as I was. He was about to open his mouth to ask something, but then he just dismissed the Asian man with a wave of his hand.

We passed through the cramped kitchen smelling of burnt oil, smoke, fish, and other odors I couldn't identify. And I was glad about it. Then we wove our way through a genuine maze of corridors lit only by dim blue, fluorescent lights. We stopped in front of the entrance to the cellar. At the foot of the stairs stood a tall man, probably one of Juro's accomplices, which I recognized because he wore the same coat and was also completely covered in augmentations. Unlike Jury, however, he smoked real cigarettes. You don't see that very often these days. Imported tobacco was expensive, and most people had to settle for the cheaper version of electronic cigarettes. He just nodded at us and let us pass through the dimly lit stairs. With each step, my heart sank deeper and deeper. But I was too afraid to back out.

With a creak, the door at the foot of the stairs revealed a small room. Immediately, the foul smell of disinfectant hit my nose, which couldn't completely mask the almost imperceptible odor of blood, even though the fan was running at full blast. I had to fight the urge to vomit right there. From nervousness and that smell. I looked around. The walls were lined with shelves full of various knick-knacks, but the important thing was the adjustable bed in the middle of the room, surrounded by all sorts of stands and tables.

In the back, in the dimly lit corner, something moved. The surgeon emerged into the light. He was a small old man, also Asian. His head was shaved and covered in tattoos; his face was covered with a white beard. Almost the entire rest of the body was covered in augmentations. So, I guessed his profession too. Instead of one hand, he had something like a drill, and two mechanical arms protruded from his back, clicking and clacking. Their lazy, swirling movements disturbed me. They looked like snakes ready to strike.

"So, you're here. It took a while," croaked the old man and approached me with a somewhat unsteady step. He cautiously examined me from all sides. Then he mumbled something, but I didn't understand a word. He was asking about something, so I asked him to repeat it. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and said, now much more clearly:

"They told me you don't have any implants, is that right?"

“Yes.”

"Alright, alright," the surgeon nodded, "that’s good." Then he headed over to the deck chair and started rattling something there. After a moment, he looked at me angrily and snapped, "What are you just standing there for, girl? We don't have all day for this!"

I didn't even realize it, but I started to fidget with Jura's coat. He noticed it and apparently understood how scared I was. He leaned towards me reassuringly and whispered in my ear: "You can do it, Alya. I know you can do it. You've always been a brave girl."

I nodded my head in agreement to bolster my courage, but I knew very well that he was lying. I have never been brave; I have always been a coward. Still, I was glad that he told me those words.

I sank heavily into the reclining chair. Something cold touched me. I flinched. Next to me stood a doctor who gestured me to lie down. I began to lie down stiffly on the bed, and I felt as if I were being lowered into a grave. Suddenly, I stopped in the middle of the movement.

"What... what do you actually want to install on me?"

The old man mumbled something in Chinese. I didn't know what she was saying, but it didn't sound friendly. He grabbed something from the nearest table and shoved it in front of my face.
"This, it's for better blood circulation," he grumbled. "Happy? Alright, let's get to it.”
I didn't notice at all what he was showing me, but I was afraid to ask him again. It wouldn't mean much to me anyway.

My heart was pounding wildly, and I was almost afraid it would burst out of my chest. I stared at the white, fluorescent lights above me, which buzzed quietly but insistently during their watch. I was trying to keep myself occupied, so I imagined that the spotlights looked like some animals leaning towards me. For example, zebras. I've never even seen those at the zoo. An unnecessary fact popped into my mind, one I had once read in a children's encyclopaedia, that zebras went extinct in 2040. For some strange reason, it made me extremely sad.

Another cold touch pulled me out of my thoughts. The surgeon didn't ask anything and rolled up the sleeve of my sweaty shirt. He thoroughly disinfected my elbow pit and without further delay gave me an injection. It only took a few moments for me to lose consciousness.