“The alarm clock on the nightstand next to the bed was ringing heart-rendingly. Sour milk of dawn oozed through the window. A geographical map stared at Andrey from the wall - it looked at both hemispheres, and the red zones on it seemed like blood vessels bursting from tension. Andrei sat up on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair, which was sticky with sweat. The palm still remembered the cold of the dead water, but the dream slowly floated away, dissipated into fog - just like the last time, and the time before, and a hundred times before...”