Snowfall
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(Originally published as Snegopad on October 2012)
The snow was getting heavier and the strong winds began to blow as Nadya ran out from the metro station. She almost skidded off and fell hard if she didn’t grab the light pole quickly enough. She was lucky not to drop her groceries and briefcase. She ran across the sidewalk and jumped under the roof of her favorite bakery.
The bell tinked when she opened the door. From behind the thermostat-regulated display cases, a middle-aged lady she knew very well greeted.
“Privet, Nadya! Oh, dear, look, your coat’s buttons are all off!”
“Well, Lyubov Ivanovna—rush hour metro. Never a vacant place,” Nadya sighed, fixed her messy coat, and grabbed a tray and tongs.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re alright.”
Lyubov Ivanovna was busy with her cash register again, serving the customers who paid for their orders. Nadya got herself a loaf of bread and four pieces of Prague cake.
Of course I’m okay, she thought. Had I been really human, I could have been all bruised thanks to that group of impatient uncles back there at the metro!
She was just about to eye on the large pan of apple pie nearby when the bells tinkled again, followed by the creaking door. Artem, one of her teammates at the independent TV station where she worked, appeared with a tidy coat, not much snow over it.
“Nadya?”
“Artem! What coincidence that you stop by around here. Thought you’d be heading straight back home after work hours,” she blurted.
“Well, yeah. You were on metro, eh?”
“As usual,” Nadya quickly answered as she put the tray with Prague cakes and loaf of bread on an empty table below the hanger with tongs, next to the cash register. “And if this snow isn’t going to ease up soon enough, my coat could be blown off in the wind before I even make it halfway to the apartment if I don’t stop by! That’s why I’m stopping by here—for snacks, too.”
A thin smile formed on Artem’s face as he began picking what he would buy. He had just been working together with her for a month, but he didn’t know what made him feel like they’d known each other since ever. She just got along with him that easily, unlike most of his other female colleagues.
Nadya grabbed another empty tray and easily moved the apple pie she had been eyeing on over it before walking to the cashier’s counter.
“Nadya, wait—“
Nadya turned. She was just done paying her goods.
“Wait for me. Let me drive you home.”
“Oh, no, I don’t want to trouble you.”
“But outside the snow is still heavy and the winds are only getting stronger. And you have many things to carry. No worries,” Artem grinned.
Nadya looked out the window. Artem was right. Piles of snow grew thicker and silhouettes of people going against the strong wind were vaguely seen in the distance, lit up by the street lights and neon signs.
“Fine then—spasibo.”
“Nevazhno.”
Artem only got himself some pirozhki and immediately paid, then he led Nadya to his car. Nadya waved at Lyubov Ivanovna as she walked out from the bakery and into Artem’s car.
The young man turned his key and tried to get the engine going as soon as possible, but just as he was about to switch gears, his right hand touched Nadya’s left. Short-circuit—a spark appeared. They both reflexively pulled their hands.
“Bozhe moi!” Artem blurted. “Oh—sorry, Nadya.”
“No, nothing. It’s okay.”
Nadya checked her left hand. She saw a slight reddish tear that looks like a laceration there—she remembered the closing metro doors pinched her skin a little as she was jammed into the metro, and probably the pinch damaged part of the cables’ isolating coat behind it.
But, why was Artem the one apologizing? He’s not an android, right?
The car started to make its way on the slippery snow-covered road. Artem didn’t dare to speed up too much—the weather only multiplied the possibility of encountering a reckless driver who had too much vodka to warm up and still insisted to speed drive. Too many incidents already.
“Nadya, did you drop by at the gastronome at Red Square’s GUM?”
Nadya took her eyes off the snow-covered city view outside and glanced at Artem. “So what?”
”Nope—just asking if the usual skating rink is open already.”
“Oh, that one? It is. Starting two days ago.”
Artem nodded, and the conversation didn’t continue until they reached the crossroad. From the car’s radio, only political talk shows were heard. Artem randomly took out a music CD from the small drawer right under the radio and opened it. The song immediately playing was definitely not a new song, but he recognized it well enough: Balerina.
Nadya didn’t say anything. She only enjoyed Valery Meladze’s old song while staring out the windows. She preferred music way more than political talks—she didn’t even understand why she didn’t just apply at the culture channel Rossiya K right away.
They rolled again, and Nadya’s apartment was visible ahead. Artem turned the car and entered a parking building, stopping his car at the second floor.
“Here, let me help with your goods,” Artem reached out his hand when Nadya was ready to jump down the car.
“Artem, you—I can carry them on my own, really!”
“Hey, what would people say if they see you carry all of them alone to your apartment, and there’s a man with you?”
“Probably wouldn’t matter much... okay then,” Nadya handed Artem her bag of groceries.
The young man took the bag with his right hand and pushed the lock button on his car’s remote control with the other, slightly playing it cool by swinging the key behind his back.
“Ha! Nailed it,” Nadya teased. Artem chuckled.
They dashed through the hostile snow, quickly getting into the apartment building. The small pile of snow on their coats began to slowly melt when they reached the elevator.
“Third floor, right?”
“Of course.”
“Hard to forget, Nadya. I once went up the wrong floor and got a healthy dose of swearing from the resident two floors above yours,” Artem chuckled and pushed the button numbered 3. Nadya laughed.
A short tinking sound was heard, along with the swishing of the doors. They walked out together from the lift and walked along the corridor until they reached the door numbered 6. The name Nadezhda Morozova was written on the plastic panel mounted on the door.
Nadya grabbed her key from her coat’s pocket, and with a swift move the door to her apartment opened.
“Hey, want to stay a bit longer? I can make you some hot chocolate if you want,” Nadya asked as she placed her briefcase on the sofa and the bag from the bakery on the small table right in front of it.
Artem smiled and put the grocery bag on the table. “No, thanks, Nadya. It’s getting late, and the traffic jam’s going to be real crazy.”
“Well, you’re right.”
“Okay then, I’m going home. See you tomorrow, Nadya!”
“Spasibo, Artem! See you tomorrow.”
Nadya put her coat off and laid on the sofa after seeing Artem off and closing the door. Upon seeing the bag with cake and the large apple pie on the table, her palm went over her forehead.
Damn it! How could I forget to share that pie with Artem?!
She jumped off the sofa, rushed to the door and quickly opened it, to no avail—Artem was gone. She shook her head in disappointment and closed the door, throwing herself on the sofa once more.
She glanced at the small scratch on her left hand, looking reddish from the spark. She was dead sure the spark came out of her hand, not from static electricity, the electrical system in Artem’s car, and most of all the man’s hand. As far as she knew, Artem wasn’t an android like her.
She made a face as she went to grab her toolbox and skin coating to get things fixed.
If only I wouldn’t have to hide this from anybody....
Since her first-ever activation by the Morozov family, Nadya knew that she was one out of the four prototypes in N-1 android series that had been truly activated. Only, she had to keep her android status a secret, with regards to the unpleasant experiences of the L-1, publicly released two years ago, solely because they were not human.
Because of that too, she had to be careful in her social relations.
According to the manual, the N-1 series were designed to feel human emotions—that includes love—but of course, she should never even think of getting married to humans, for it would only inflate people’s fears of reproductive inhibition.
Nadya didn’t want to recall such things for too long. She quickly repaired the small blue cable behind her laceration with a specially made tape, and then she coated the lacerated part with the coating, tinted exactly the same color as hers. The scratch was gone, as if it had never been there. She smiled with satisfaction as she returned the toolbox and coating container to their places.
She walked into her bedroom and casually laid on the bed, with the TV showing live music broadcasts from the channel where she worked. Outside, the snow didn’t seem to ease up the slightest. She kept staring out the windows until she fell asleep, without even turning out the lights and the TV.
When Nadya woke up, the music broadcast had turned to political talk show with Iosif Fedorov, a senior colleague at the station. Without having to look at the clock at the edge of the screen, she knew it was already over eleven at night. The snow had calmed down, but not yet stopped. The snowflakes slightly glistened with reflections of street lights and the buildings around.
She turned off the television. She wasn’t really interested in the talk about the seemingly never-ending opposition protests. She dashed to the living room and grabbed the Prague cake she bought before waddling back into her bedroom to brew some coffee on the electric jug. She knew she would have to come earlier to the office to prepare for On Stage the next morning, but she had decided not to tuck back in for the rest of the night.
# # #
“Ready?”
He turned away from the script and caught Nadya’s reflection, standing with folded arms behind him.
“Nadya, it’s not the first time I interview a famous person, but this time... oh, well, you know.”
“You’re nervous because Zhenya is too beautiful for you?”
“N-not really...”
“Come on, admit it,” she teased. “She is beautiful. It’s normal if you’re a bit nervous in front of her.”
Artem could only chuckle. He remembered there was something he had wanted to say since the previous day.
Now or never, Artem Yuryevich!
He gathered his voice, but he thought he just couldn’t man up enough to talk without looking away from the reflections on the mirror and directly look at the girl.
“Hey, Nadya ….”
“Hmm?”
Feeling a slight pressure over his back rest, he knew Nadya was slightly getting closer to him. His mind raced.
“You... don’t have work tonight, right?”
“Nope—only day shift.”
He took a deep breath before continuing, “Any appointments or other plans after work?”
“I’m free. What?”
“Eh... I want to skate at the rink at the Red Square, but I just feel like it’s better to have company,” he answered, almost whispering. “Mind to join me?”
“I’d love to. But, anyway, the earliest session we can get tickets for will be at six, or later—today we’re out at four, right? If we’re not lucky and get out of tickets, we might even start skating at eight. Want to have a snack at Festivalnoe Cafe on the third floor?”
Artem’s face blushed a little. It never got to his mind that Nadya would simply say yes to his offer to skate together—even she wanted to dine out with him.
“I—“
“Relax,” Nadya chuckled and let her hands’ pressure off Artem’s back rest. “My treat this time.”
He dared himself to lift his face, put the scripts aside and look into Nadya’s eyes—still through the mirror.
“Alright then, wait for me this afternoon! We’ll meet by the lockers.”
“Sure. I’m off to the broadcast control room now!”
Artem felt strange when Nadya left. His feelings grew even weirder. Fortunately, not long after the girl left, the make-up artists returned with Evgeniya, the guest star.
“Artyosha, oh, dear! Your face is red! Did Sasha apply too much blush-on?”
“Ah, Zhenya, maybe it was just you.”
Artem got up from his seat and buttoned up his suit. Half an hour left before they go live, and he never felt readier before—his nervous bouts were all spent when he faced Nadya. With confidence, he marched into the studio.
# # #
With a quick turn of the key, the locker opened. Artem pulled out his jacket, not realizing the presence of a cardboard box full of empty VHS tapes, which was supposed to be returned to the storage room, right above his locker. His swift pull had moved the box further to the edge, and it fell on his hand exactly as he slammed the locker close and prepared to lock it back.
On the crashing sound of something falling, a technical staff just returning from the rest rooms rushed to him.
”Bozhe moi—Artem Yuryevich! Are you alright?”
“It’s okay, Fedya,” Artem crouched and grabbed his key, flung off not so far from the locker, near the scattered empty tapes.
“I’m sorry, I was supposed to return these first,” the man he called Fedya apologized, his head bowed down—he didn’t dare to look back at Artem.
“No, really, it’s okay,” Artem cracked a thin smile, trying to hide his nearly formed grimace. The inner side of his right hand looked red.
Shortly, Fedya finished collecting the scattered tapes, and Nadya appeared from the other end of the corridor. Artem put his wool gloves in a rush to cover his red hand.
“Sorry to make you wait. Some things concerning the rerun still needed to be rediscussed.”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter, Nadya. Come on, let’s go!”
They walked together to Artem’s car, parked right next to the lobby’s entrance. Soon after the doors slammed shut, Artem glanced at the clock displayed on his car’s radio. Twenty five minutes past four, and that meant the rink was closed temporarily for ice resurfacing.
“Nadya, I guess we should go to Festivalnoe first. Just don’t pull out that wallet too quickly,” he teased.
Nadya turned and gave him a questioning look.
“What do you mean?”
“Once in a while it may be fine if you treat, but this time... it’s my turn,” Artem smiled as he paced the car out from the TV station’s building, and then all the way to the Red Square. Outside, the snow began to fall again.
“You—I’ve caused you quite the trouble!”
“When did you cause me trouble? Never,” Artem casually answered.
The traffic light went red at the second crossroad before GUM’s parking space. Artem stopped his car right on the line before the zebra cross.
Then, a spark, followed by a thin white smoke and the smell of burning cables. Nadya did realize it too, but she didn’t question until Artem suddenly put his right hand off the steering wheel.
“Hey, can you help me with the gears?”
“Artem? Are you alright?”
“I don’t know, Nadya—just do it for now. The lights are going green!”
Nadya only said yes and followed his instruction for the rest of their trip until they finally parked the car near GUM’s entrance.
Artem pulled his right glove off in panic. He was stunned when he saw his previously red skin had melted off, and behind the open wound were some fine cables—red, pale yellow and blue—burned and cut off in the middle. But one thing scared him even more: he was with Nadya, and the girl had seen everything.
“I-I-I can explain this, Nadya. I—“
“Calm down!”
Nadya reached for her briefcase right under the seat and acquired her small emergency kit in one swift move. Artem was petrified at the sight of the kit—it was exactly the same as his.
Could Nadya had known from the start? Or...?
Nadya took Artem’s hand and examined which cables were burned, also the surrounding components. The types, the cables, the wiring pattern, motor units, even all the chips implanted behind the whole thing were just like hers.
”Bozhe moi,” she whispered, “how could it be?”
“Probably you saw it—the box of tapes Fedya brought away....”
“That’s why,” she muttered as she began fixing the burned cables. Artem sighed and leaned his head against the door, letting the girl work. She was already working on the edges of the melted skin coating, carefully cutting away the torn edges so that some fine fibres underneath were not damaged—analogues of the human nerve fibres—before coating them again to a perfect finish.
“Done—good as new!”
Artem saw his right hand was back to its normal condition. Even his strength had also returned when he tried grasping—meanwhile he couldn’t even get a grip on the steering wheel before.
“Right, Nadya, we’re going now. I’ll have plenty to ask up there at the cafe.”
Nadya only shrugged. They walked out in the white parking space as snow was already piling up again, and then through the elaborate entrance of GUM and straight up to Festivalnoe Cafe on the third floor.
Festivalnoe Cafe, just like its name, looked festive with decorations and colorful posters depicting people in traditional costumes from countries around the world. The chairs were also brightly colored, contrasting its white walls and floors. The cafe itself wasn’t really crowded when Artem and Nadya arrived there. They agreed to sit by the window after they finished ordering.
Artem took a deep breath before looking right into Nadya’s brown eyes and starting to question her.
“Are you not afraid of me?”
“No. What for?”
“I thought humans would go hysterical, screaming and all, when they knew their friends were not human.”
“You’ve watched too much cartoons,” Nadya chuckled.
“Oh, and since I’m already caught... now, where did you get that kit? Any of your family members working at a robotics lab or something? That kit was specific for my type, as I know....”
Nadya’s expression became a mix of held-back laughter and astonishment.
“So we’ve been having wrong assumptions on each other?”
Artem winced.
“...Uh, what do you mean?”
“My father is very much a businessman, mother is an English teacher, and no Morozov works in any lab, as far as I know,” Nadya leaned her body forward. “So, if I’m a human, what for am I bringing along the emergency kit for N-1 prototypes everywhere with me?”
Nadya’s words shocked Artem.
“Nadya—so you are, too...?”
“Yes,” Nadya laughed and put the kit back into her bag after pointing it out. “Definitely!”
That day couldn’t be more unbelievable to him. The successful live broadcast, his request to go out together—to which she just simply said yes, and now the truth that the girl sitting right opposite him was also an N-1 prototype. He looked away from Nadya and stared out the window.
“I don’t understand, but... I’m relieved to hear it. I thought I would have no hope....”
Nadya straightened her back’s position, no longer leaning on the back cushion.
“About what?”
“You know the rules, Nadya... and I’ve never thought I would meet another of my kind. And now we’re this close.”
Nadya smiled meaningfully—a smile that triggered a strange stinging sensation on Artem’s face.
“Neither have I.”
“Is this possibly why... I feel like I’ve known you for a long, long time?”
Nadya laughed as Artem’s face turned red when he said that. She then felt the same stinging sensation on her face as it also began turning red. Artem laughed back at her.
She could understand what Artem was supposed to mean. She and the young man were of the same type, with compatible components, and almost exactly the same operating system and programs running their bodies.
I don’t know, but this time I really hope this is an expression of the same emotional function.
“So, are we going down now... Artyosha?”
Artem nodded and immediately got up from his seat.
“Sure! We’ll see who’s better on ice!”
They went out from the majestic building, across the pile of snow, before preparing to skate together on the rink adorned with merry, colorful lighting and decoration, no less festive than Festivalnoe Cafe. One thing in their minds: their days would never be the same again.
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