A case involving KGB officersAbout twenty years ago, a persistent legend circulated in certain circles, the gist of which was as follows.

In the mid-1980s, one evening, two KGB officers guarding one of the most secure facilities gathered for duty while chatting—they made coffee and sat in their cubicle. Around midnight, one of the guards went out into the hall and heard strange sounds on the second floor, roughly in the vicinity of the archives, very similar to footsteps. Since the archives are lined with iron, the footsteps sounded quite loud and resonant.

The guard, naturally, assumed that one of the archives' employees hadn't gone home that evening and was now trying to leave the sealed, alarm-activated archives. Since KGB officers were always renowned for strictly following their job descriptions, the guard ran into his duty room and quietly explained the situation to the other guard. Together, as instructed, they ready their weapons and run up separate staircases to the second floor. The one who ran up the wooden stairs reached the top some time before his comrade-in-arms. He saw a man at the archive doors who, according to legend, was wearing clothes resembling a monk's habit. The guard points his gun at him and motions for the stranger to raise his hands, but the stranger isn't intimidated, turning around and walking straight toward him. The guard, stunned by this, shouts loudly, "Stop! I'll shoot!" to which the "monk" doesn't react and continues to advance. The guard fires. Then he fires again and can't understand why the bullets don't harm the intruder. The "monk" continues to approach, and the bewildered guard emptys his magazine, but the "monk" doesn't stop; he approaches the man, passes through him, and leisurely walks down the stairs. The KGB agent just sank down against the wall...

At this point, the shooter's colleague, who had already risen and observed all this mysticism from the other end of the corridor, in little better condition than his comrade, slid down, ran into the room, and started making phone calls everywhere. How his message was received in those places is unknown—that's where the legend ends. However, an acquaintance who worked for the KGB at the time indirectly confirmed to me that something similar had happened, and two agents from some facility were briefly committed to a mental hospital.