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A gloved nurse entered the cell. The High Witch nodded toward the stain, and the nurse held the spectrometer to it. It emitted a confirmation beep.
– It’s been sent to the lab,» the nurse said. – They’ll have an answer in a couple minutes.
For two minutes the women stood in silence waiting for the answer. Because of this awkwardness, the witches were a little nervous and tried not to meet their eyes. Only Tamura smiled broadly, admiring the sight.
– A witch has been born,» she commented.
– Praise Odin,» Ruta said casually.
– There’s a result! – The nurse responded to the spectrometer’s signal.
– Praise Odin! – Ruta repeated with a relieved exhale.
– It’s a mutated strain of bubonic skin plague,» said the lab technician.
The witches looked at each other dumbfounded and rushed for the exit.
– Wait,» the nurse shouted. – The strain is not contagious.
– I’ll be praising Odin until tonight,» Ruta said, stopping. – Are you sure it’s not contagious?
– Give me that! – Eira snatched the spectrometer out of the lab technician’s hands and looked at the monitor. – «The strain is not contagious because it’s completely dead. No colony-forming organisms of the plague bacillus were found.
– So you’re saying the plague was waiting somewhere for a sick in the head old man to jump on him, draw a knight on his chest, and die? – Tamura asked.
– Girls, it’s a message! – Ruta said. – It’s obvious! A drawing like that couldn’t have formed on its own.
– A message to whom? – The black witch persisted. – He was supposed to sit in the bunker for ten days and then blow it up. And who would read the message? Or would he put this sign on the school ceiling with his own ashes?
– Get on it, huh? – said Eira. – Tamurych, you’re the most logical, the most adequate, and the most expensive for the Coven. Run the connections, who you met, what kind of knight, in general, everything as you like.
– You couldn’t tell me before? Before I shot him,» she paused and added. – Today, does everyone remember?
– They do,» Eira replied. – I did another mailing. I might be a little late myself. I’m on the air. I want both of you in my office now. Call Cataleya, too
***
The phone on the High Witch’s desk was crawling with vibrations and bursting with the sounds of an incoming call.
– Aren’t you going to answer it? – Tamura asked. – A call from Pride. Could it be the Alpha himself calling?
– I don’t have anything to answer them yet,» Eira said and turned off the ringing tone. She lit a match, lit a cigarette, and exhaled a heavy puff of pink smoke. – Any idea what that was about?
– I’ll go first, may I? – Ruta asked, glancing questioningly at the dark witch.
– Of course! – she said. – The young are the way to go! You said something about an alien stagnum.
– I am the oldest of the witches,“ she began, „and I learned to see stagnum with my eyes a long time ago. Remember when I told you that every stagnum has a color? Not just one color, but a small palette. And the colors in this palette vibrate, passing from one shade to another, with some impermanent frequency. The desires and intentions of man and society are impermanent, and so the vibration appears. The vector of influence on reality also jumps around a bit, like the arrow of a compass. And all this is within the yellow and orange color. Because everyone has the same desires and fears. Everyone wants power, luxury, love, health and not to die of radiation sickness. Even radical religious fanatics don’t have much difference in the color of their stagnum structure. Because we’re all human. We share the same physiology of quantum thinking. As a species. Pure anatomy. Turns out that’s not true.
– What are you saying? The old man’s stagnum isn’t orange? He’s crazy! What kind of stagnum would a crazy person have?
– It’s very strong. And it’s black. Yes, yes! It’s black like a space howler. And the best part is, it’s not his stagnum. It’s like someone temporarily gave the old man a new, hitherto unknown, black stagnum.
– Is that possible? – The High Witch asked. – So he came into contact with a person whose stagnum enriched his own? The messiah?
– I don’t know. But it would seem so.
– The origin of the plague knight on the chest of the deceased is an artifact of exposure to an alien stagnum,» the dark witch commented. – Hmmm… that explains it quite well. Shall we turn to the blind witches?
– You will,» the commander confirmed. – I need this messiah. Alive, if possible. And he’s your passenger now. I understand that the temptation to kill him on the spot you have above the regulations of operative-search activity. But I think the word «national security» still means something to you. – She turned to Ruta. – Want to guess?
– No!
– Wow! Why so strict? – Tamura asked.
– I don’t cast futhark anymore.
– Why not?
– Because the last few times I’ve thrown it, it’s been falling like a copycat – the same every time. And every time, it shows the exodus.
– The Jews out of Egypt? – Tamura asked.
– My exodus. I don’t know how to interpret it. All I know is that it is not death. The runes refused to tell me anything else. Exodus, every time.
– Maybe you broke them.
– Would you stop sneering? – Eira interrupted the dark witch. – What do you think?
– Can I keep Thomas? – Tamura asked cautiously.
– What?
– We have Thomas running on the Coven servers. Nobody uses it anyway. Can I keep him?
– Thomas? You mean Coven’s voice assistant? It’s available online to any witch at any time. What’s wrong with it? And why are you going off topic?
– I’d tweak it a bit, customize it, add a backup structure, hot backup on cloud clusters.
– Aren’t you living a little too frugally, Major Hogan? Do you remember how much that animated face tattoo cost Coven?
– I did it with Katelea. I never would have gotten it myself.
– Don’t blame it all on me,» said the extremely beautiful woman sitting in the corner, waving her comb. – My animation is kopechechnaya and changes only the makeup. And yours – with a full-fledged animation on the whole face. And it costs like a cast-iron bridge.
– Come on, animation! – Eira continued. – And the smart metal exoskeleton? And portable batteries with a thousand and a half amperes? When you charge them, there’s a power outage within a ten-kilometer radius. Now you want a personal server with an institutional neural network, and tomorrow what? A space spy satellite with remote DNA sensors?
– Why, do we already have one of those?
– No way! If you don’t like the voice assistant, bring it to the committee. This meeting’s over. I still have to prepare a report for Pride and go on the air.
At that moment the front door opened and a tall, thin old woman in a black cloak and a purple hood on her head appeared in the doorway.
– Dropped from the accounts,“ she sang in a tinkling yet velvety voice. Then, leaning on a gnarled staff, she slowly waddled to an empty chair and pulled it out with a club, „No longer needed, huh? – she asked, sitting down.
– Calm down, Snot! – Eira replied. – You are the wisest of witches. You are the wisest of witches. We only call you for important matters. We pity you. You’re in poor health. You’re not a girl anymore.
– Aha! Old, huh? – She slowly turned to the light witch and extended her hand. A shaking charred finger appeared from under her sleeve. – I’m no older than that bitch.
– Get your damn finger away from me, you old bitch! – Ruta screamed and jumped on the table. She grabbed her chair by the back and threw it at the old woman. – Why aren’t you dead?!
Rune tried to dodge, but failed. She was caught by the chair leg and fell to the floor with it. The light witch took short strides across the table and jumped on the old woman, clamping her throat with her knee and stepping on her toe with the heel of her other foot.
– Give me the knife! – She shouted and reached back toward Tamura. – I’m going to cut off that damn toe and send her into retirement!
– It’s so funny to watch what you do,“ the dark witch replied with a wide grin. – „You’re like Joseph Barbera and William Hanna. I’d give a knife, honestly. But I’m only wearing a robe.
Ruta snorted and lifted herself off Snooty’s head. At that moment, Cataleya stopped brushing her thick red hair, walked over to the old woman and helped her up. The old woman groaned defiantly.
– Just don’t overplay it,“ the red-haired witch whispered in Snyti’s ear. – Otherwise, my patience is not infinite. – Then she turned to the others: „We’ve got to find out how the crazy old man got so many weapons and explosives, I think.
– Thanks, Cap. We can’t close business without you,» Tamura said. – I’m going to breakfast! Who’s with me?
– I’ll keep you company,» Ruta snorted.
***
The girls were sitting across from each other at Coven’s cafeteria table, eating sandwiches and drinking hot coffee.
– Come on, tell me, who’s the new guy? – Tamura asked.
– Why a man? – Ruta furrowed her eyebrows. – A guy, twenty-eight years old, an artist with a fine mental organization, a creative person – is he a man?
– I’m sorry, I’m sorry. In the concept of «man» I put a set of positive male qualities, not synonyms «rude dork» and «uncouth stump».
– Come on, Tamurach, don’t worry, I’m just kidding. His name is Vincent. And he’s really nice. And we’re in love!
– Does that mean you won’t kill him?
– I won’t even hurt him. I’ll let him go in peace. Maybe I’ll marry him.
– Are you out of your mind, you old witch? What’s the age difference between you and him? Seventy years? Does he even know how old you are?
– Oh, don’t be jealous! I told him I’m twenty-four. He doesn’t really believe it and thinks I’m flirting, but he loves me with all his heart. – She took her cell phone out of her belt pouch and showed a picture of a young man.
– He’s cute,» Tamura agreed. – Have you forgotten how to love?
– I haven’t had such a poetic high in ages! My hormone glands are just gushing. I’m peeing a cocktail of oxytocin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. I get heart palpitations just thinking about him. And I’ve never written so much poetry about anyone before. I’ll definitely publish a collection of poems dedicated to Vincent. The rhymes just fall into place. It’s the best thing that’s happened to me lately.
– That’s awesome! I envy the white witch with white envy! You know I’m a fan. I collect everything you drop. And I’ll be the first one to read it. And I’ve even tried my hand at writing, looking at you.
– Yeah, okay. Can I see it?
– Promise me you won’t be sarcastic and make fun of me.
– Sure. – Ruta ran her palm over her face, smoothing out the wrinkles. – I’m the serious one.
Tamura crumpled a little, pulled out her phone, looked for something, and started reading:
– The verse is called: «To You.»
– Romantic! Mmmm… And not once clichéd. Keep going,» the moon witch commented, taking a bite of her sandwich.
– «I love you so much, and my love is so classy, but I can’t bear to live within my means, so I’m moving in with you.
Ruta lasted two seconds and burst into laughter through her nose as her mouth was full of sandwich. The snorting laughter immediately elicited a reaction from the rest of the café’s customers, who first took notice and then squeamishly turned away.
– You promised! – Tamura shouted. – That’s it! The fence is down! – A pattern of horizontal bars appeared on her face and immediately covered her face. She tried to fumble for the hilt of her sword behind her back, but after a futile attempt, she faked raising it and asked calmly: – What’s wrong? The rhymes are wrong, or the sensuality is lacking?
– Well, let’s talk about rhymes first. Although form is not the most important thing in poems, but since you started about rhymes, let’s talk about rhymes. They’re pretty simple.
– They’re not precise, are they?
– Exact rhymes are: you-will-forget, self-you, gone. And exact rhymes have long been equated with primitive rhymes. One of the founding fathers of Russian poetry once ridiculed primitive rhymes:
«The frost is already in full swing
And the fields are silvery
The reader is waiting for the rhyme «rose».
Here, take it!
– And since then there have been assonance rhymes, multisyllabic rhymes, dissonant rhymes.
– What’s wrong with simple rhymes? – The black witch asked, shoveling noodles into her mouth with a fork from a paper bag of hieroglyphics.
– Well, here’s a look. – Ruta picked up a cube of raffinade from the tea saucer and showed it to Tamura. – This is the simplest sweet form capable of producing primitive organoleptic pleasure in humans and living things.
– Yes, I know. Sugar is a quick carbohydrate that can immediately raise the body’s energy level and partially satiate the body. That’s why our receptors like it.
– Yeah, but that’s not what I’m saying. Give a kid sugar, next time he’ll give his hand for it. Then dilute the sugar with fruit or berries, and the taste of sugar is filled with flavors, sourness, and the sensation plays out in a new way. Continue culinary experiments, add cream, coffee, cocoa, various synthetic components, and a person will never eat pure sugar. Because it’s too easy. It’s the same with poetry. If you do not develop, do not try to seek new aesthetic orgasms from rhymes and forms, you can be satisfied with sugar all your life. That’s how graphomania breeds. And the saddest thing is that no one remembers real poetry now, because they haven’t eaten anything but sugar for a hundred years.
– Great! – Tamura looked at her hand. Her palm was covered in a black, barely transparent, mesh. – Only I don’t get it, what’s wrong with my poem?
– Don’t worry, Tamura. I’ve seen a million graphomaniacal poems, but none of them made me smile, let alone laugh. That’s worth something! You have no lyrical spark, but sarcasm sparks from every pore. All right. (chuckles) What are you doing?
– Mitsu’s gonna get me a fresh new suit of armor, and I’m gonna go to the armory. I’m gonna put on my battle gear. I got some shurikens from the stab lab to try out, with built-in controllers. It’s an old order of mine. I drew the schematics for the lab myself.
– Ninja throwing stars? I’m surprised you didn’t have them before.
– I did, but they were just ordinary ones. I didn’t use them much. That’s because they run out so fast.
– What are these like? Do they find their own targets?
– Nope! They can come back. The main controller is on my belt. Scatter the shurikens, press the button, and they respond to the directional electromagnetic selective beam. They burst out of the soft tissue and fly to my belt, where they’re powered by the main battery and ready to throw again. The main thing is not to throw them into trees – only to pull them out by hand.
– You’re the head, Tamurych! The Ilon Musk of our time! Don’t you think you’re doing the wrong thing?
– I’m doing what I like to do.
– No! You clearly don’t have enough room to realize your creative potential here. Maybe you should put on a scientist’s robe. With your guidance and personal involvement, we could conquer the radiation and repopulate the planet. Maybe even conquer a couple more planets.
– I’ve already thought about it. I’m fine here. Besides, I don’t believe in the idea of universal happiness. And I’m certainly not meant for the common good.
– What are you meant for, Tamurach?
– I don’t know yet,» the dark witch shrugged her shoulders. – But I have a strong feeling that everything I do is right. Listen, what kind of outcome did you prophesize for yourself?
– It’s not an outcome. It’s more of an escape. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m just gonna disappear. And no age jokes,» Ruta tugged at Tamura’s robe sleeve, cutting off her smirk.
Smiling silently, Tamura winked at the blonde witch, clicked her tongue, and walked over to the food stand.
– Do you have any beer? – she asked, and, seeing the seller’s nod of approval, she asked: – How many in a pack? Six? Give me two packs.
She took both packs by the cardboard handles and left the food hall.
Tamura then took the elevator down to the armory and went to the individual compartment where her personal ammunition was stored. She placed the beer packs on the nightstand, removed her medical gown and put on a tight jumpsuit with various compartments and pockets over her finished black cobwebbed fine mesh. She placed two small Japanese kiridashi knives in the elbow loops, slipped two more kiridashi, already with displays on the handles, into the narrow pockets of her tight black carbon fiber boots and strapped on a back scabbard with a magnetic grip. Then she pulled a folded exoskeleton made up of strands of smart metal out of its case and leaned it against her neck just above her back. The exoskeleton immediately responded by extending its threads down her back, arms, and legs, remotely replicating the structure of a network of large blood vessels. At that moment, the red indicator on her belt lit up in the form of a horizontal strip of light, where the dark witch immediately attached the battery pack. The exoskeleton beeped approvingly and attracted to the main muscles of the mistress, strengthening and accelerating them several times.
Then Tamura pulled her katana out of the sharpening case and slung it over her back, the katana magnetized to the scabbard obediently. She strapped a double holster with pistols on each side to her belt and put on her goggles.
– Coven’s voice-assistance system welcomes you, Major Hogan,» the headset said, and a translucent splash screen of central control appeared on the goggles’ displays.
– Hello, Thomas.
– The temperature outside is nineteen degrees Celsius. Cloudy, no precipitation. Radiation levels are within normal limits. Do you have any instructions?
– No, Thomas. No,» replied the witch. – Hold on, Thomas.
– Yes, Major Hogan.
– Are you afraid of something, Thomas?
– I’m sorry, Major Hogan. The voice assistant doesn’t have the scripts to handle such deep feelings. Is there anything else I can do for you?
– No, Thomas. Stand down,» Tamura said, taking her beer, leaving the armory and heading for the receptionist.
– Major Hogan,“ she said to the witch, „I have an order for you. Fourteen pieces. Shurikens, I believe. – The receptionist picked up a plastic container containing fourteen four-pointed stars the size of a woman’s palm. Tamura took one out, examined it closely on both sides, and said:
– Do you know my home address? Send them there. All fourteen of them! I’ll count them! – And looking at the receptionist’s frightened face, she added: – I’m kidding. I can’t count. By the way, can I have a company bike? Mine’s a long way from here, and it’s not on autopilot. It won’t come by itself.
– Yeah, here’s the remote,» the receptionist pulled the handle of a pull-out shelf on the wall, pulled out a small keychain, and handed it to the witch. – A minute before you want to use the bike, press this button and it will come right to the remote.
– Grand merci,» Tamura smiled. – Can I make another order? I’d like a new pair of glasses. Model RS14. They should be in stock by now.
– I’ll do it. – The receptionist typed in the model. – I need an official request signed by the High Witch.
– You order and I’ll bring the request,» Tamura replied and left the armory.
A few minutes later, the dark witch knocked on the door of the IT department’s office and opened it uninvited, stepped inside and looked around: the office was a huge open room with desks around the perimeter, where the regular employees of the department worked. In the far corner of the room, an elderly IT manager sat behind glass partitions.
– Loyal priests of the great Cthulhu, the omnipresent and omnipotent god of the binary code, I bring you sacred gifts to placate you and your god!
– Hello, Major Hogan! – cheerfully greeted the witch the staff of the office, without leaving their desks.
The elderly leader came out of his office and went to the witch:
– You’re going to get us drunk,» he said with a big smile, taking both packs of beer.
– Don’t worry, Louis. You’re getting drunk without me. – She put one arm around him, giving him a friendly pat on the back, and inhaled loudly through her nostrils, closing her eyes, «I love coming here. The smell of rosin, alcohol, and thermal paste buries the pitiful remains of a shameful humanitarian in me. Why am I here? Can I ask you for some tin and solder? I’m doing some crafts at home, and unfortunately I’ve run out of the young radio amateur’s kit.
– Of course you can,» Louis answered, and after a moment he froze, closing his eyes. – It’s on me, isn’t it? Your insect.
– You’re so ignorant sometimes, Louis,» Tamura whispered and put her arms around the man’s neck. – It’s not an insect, it’s a spider. And it’s the most beautiful example of parallel evolution. When two creatures look about the same, again to a layman like you, but belong to completely different species. It’s like confusing a man with a lizard. The main difference, Louis, between a spider and an insect is the number of legs. Insects have six. And my little brother is not just a spider, but a mutated hybrid of three species of spider: spider, tick and scorpion, from each of which he has taken the best properties. The DNA of the spider and scorpion allows it to produce such sophisticated toxins that those bitten ask to be killed themselves or go mad with hallucinations. The tick and spider genes are able to sew a very thin and super strong web on my body. And the mutant only needs a small amount of warm-blooded blood as food. That’s from a tick, too. And the scorpion also gave Mitsu a gorgeous exterior, a small but still sting and claws that can easily bite through metal wire or human tendons, depending on the need. And he just sniffed you, Louie. Don’t worry. A primitive organism driven by instinct and curiosity. And it hasn’t been on you for a long time. – The witch opened her mouth, revealing a spider sitting on her tongue. – Listen, Louie, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. Let’s go to your office.
Tamura entered the office first, sat down in the executive computer chair and put both feet up on the keyboard.
– Can I have a cigarette, Louis? – she asked, and without waiting for an answer, she pulled a cigarette from the packet lying carelessly on the desk.
Louis pulled a lighter from his pocket and graciously gave her a light. Tamura took a deep drag and exhaled a thin stream of smoke, which was immediately drawn into the ventilation nozzle.
– Did you get a personalized vent? – She asked, shaking off the ashes into a glass jar filled with cigarette butts and water.
– I smoke a lot. Especially lately. I can smoke three packs a day when I’m working late.
– Someday, Louis, it will kill you,» the witch said, took another deep drag, and put the cigarette out on the table. – I’ve recently learned an interesting fact, Louis,» she began, to my delight. – It turns out that you, Louis, were in charge of the voice assistant project!
– Thomas?! I was,» the man said with a smile. – Thomas had once been very popular with the staff. Thomas’s server handled several requests from witches at a time. – He sighed sadly. – Now it only tells the weather, radiation levels, and data from the Coven’s archives.
– Why isn’t the project moving forward?
– Thomas is a typical neural network whose synaptic connections have undergone all possible self-learning algorithms. Expressed in simple language, Thomas in its limited interface has reached perfection in development and does not develop further. And why is it not in demand? Because there are plenty of cloud-based voice assistants with a more developed technical architecture. Every resource on the web now has its own voice assistant. That’s what they’re using.
– I’m sorry, Louis. Listen, I was thinking. Is there any way I could customize it for me? Emotionalize it, humanize it, move it to a new server so it can evolve. I’m ready to take a very active part in this project.
– I think it’s possible. We just need to coordinate this procedure with the Coven leadership. I can make a request.
– No, don’t, Louis. I was just asking. I won’t interrupt you again. Get back to work. I’m gonna go. Can I have some tin and rosin?