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bus, climbing a long hill, gasped, shuddered, and roared furiously with the power of its old engine. Simon watched the view drifting past the window with sleepy eyes. The forest stretched in a monotonous strip of green on both sides of the narrow road. And the road twisted in all directions, twisted, bent... Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of movement ahead. The girl sitting next to the fat woman was looking at him through the gap between the seats. She was young. The fragment of her face visible through the gap didn't allow for a clear definition of her beauty. For some reason, he felt uneasy under her gaze. It angered him... Before he could collect himself, she turned. In the gap between the seats, instead of a fragment of a young face, the glistening, sweaty surface of the fat woman's massive shoulder appeared.

"Is it far yet?

" "No..." Sergius replied, his voice unsteady.

The bus reached the top of the hill and, with relief, rolled gently downward.

Once again, from the moment he found himself inside the stuffy, crowded bus, Szymon wondered how he'd agreed to this trip. Two weeks, Sergiusz, his uncle, a town (or rather, a village?) with the intriguing name of Ciapy... Just their style.

Nothing... It was still better than sweltering in the city for all that time. Better, I guess. Not to think. To be, to pass, to wait, to sleep.

A bend, and suddenly a wave of sunlight poured into the bus from Szymon's direction. They left the forest. He was almost surprised that there could be anything other than a forest in this area. And there were fields covered with ripening grain, green meadows, the dirt of potato crops, the chaos of rapeseed fields. Then the houses appeared. Solid, built of red brick and with red-tile roofs, scattered on both sides of the road...

"This is it," Sergiusz announced.

"Are you kidding?"

Another bend, and they entered the center of Ciapy. A cobblestone square, surrounded by a row of uniform, two-story tenement houses, a tin bus stop, a shop, and two gentlemen sipping cheap wine at it, and beyond that... Nothing.

"We're getting off!" Sergiusz exclaimed. They reached the exit with their backpacks, slapping the body parts of other passengers that protruded beyond the seats.

Outside, they were greeted by dry, hot air that made Szymon feel dizzy. A slam. The bus door closed. From beyond the transparent surface of the bus window, he caught the now-familiar gaze of a young girl. Yes. She was ugly. He felt uneasy again. The bus moved off.

"What are you doing?" Sergiusz asked, seeing Szymon with his tongue stuck out at the departing bus.

"Uh, nothing. I'm just thirsty."

Szymon looked around and repeated the rule in his mind once again: Don't think. Be, pass...

"Where now?" he asked.

"Um...

" "What?

" "I haven't been here in a while. Actually, this is the second time I've been here. The first time was when I was three," Sergius explained.

"Oh, well...

" "So you have to ask someone."

Simon's eye was caught by a colorful, though somewhat faded, sign above the entrance to one of the buildings on the opposite side of the square: "One-Eyed Bar."

"Oooooh!" Sergius said, looking in the same direction.

"Exactly," Simon agreed.

"First...

" "Exactly."

They crossed the cobbled surface of the square in one long stride and reached the edge of a dangerously worn stone staircase. They climbed it carefully and reached the dark, cool interior of the building. To the right of the corridor they stood at the edge of stood a tall but strangely narrow door, the white paint peeling and flaking off in small pieces. They heard the rhythmic, muffled thump of music.

"Not bad," Sergiusz commented.

"I guess so..."

They opened the door. Inside, it was as dark as the hallway. The room was stuffy, just like a bus. This probably made Szymon feel better immediately... They sat down at a table right by the entrance, as if afraid to go any further. From this safe place, they began to look around. Six tables just like the one they were sitting at—a wide wooden tabletop mounted on solid metal legs bolted to the floor. And beside these tables, on either side, also bolted, stood long wooden benches. Two large windows, thick curtains that let in a small amount of light, a wooden floor, a high bar, and behind it, the silhouette of a slender woman, staring blankly at the beer dripping from the tap. And the music. Intrusive, monotonous, attacking with its irritating pulse from speakers hidden somewhere above the bar. And the smell. A mixture of the aroma of old wood, the stench of sweat and cheap wine, and something else...

"I'm coming," Sergiusz announced, and boldly set off towards the slim woman behind the bar. Meanwhile, Szymon observed the only other people in the bar. It was a group of men of various ages, dressed in colorful, rumpled clothes, the cut of which seemed reminiscent of the seventies. They were already quite drunk. They were engaged in a lively discussion, which only occasionally subsided. Such brief moments, when the men calmed down, usually ended with a burst of loud laughter...

"Beer." Sergiusz placed two damp mugs filled with foaming beer on the table. The men at the other table roared with laughter.

"Uh... Monks."

They drank their beer in small sips, looking around the room, essentially saying nothing to each other. Laughter erupted again... One of the men jumped up from his seat, raised his wine glass, and exclaimed

, "I don't give a damn about you, Anna Bożucz... Bożucha... Bożucka! We're done, do you hear that?! You stupid whore!

" "Ruhe!" a booming, menacing male voice boomed from behind the half-open door to the back room behind the bar.

"Because what?" the young man, who had just expressed his opinion so emphatically about a certain Anna Bożucka, now seemed a little startled. He immediately sat down, helped by some of his more sober colleagues, who were clearly frightened by the mysterious voice.

"Remember?" Sergiusz asked.

"What?"

- Marta... How was it? "I don't give a damn about all the girls, I'm blind to their charms. I'll sit there, pick my nose, and Time will pluck my grandfather's beard...

" - Oh yes. "There's nothing in this world that the power of death denies..." Wow! That was a party!

- It's just a shame we got arrested.

- Well... But luckily there was no trial.

They finished their drinks and, as if embarrassed by having spied on this strange scene, quickly moved out into the hot Ciap Square. They looked around but saw no one. Even the two drunks had disappeared from the shop. Only a scrawny dog ​​was slinking in a thin line of shadow towards one of the houses.

"And what?" Szymon looked around helplessly.

Just then, a tall man emerged from the shop, dressed in a navy blue suit that looked new, a white shirt open at the neck, and completely shaved. The man moved in seemingly enormous leaps, carrying shopping bags stuffed with groceries in both hands.

"After him!" Szymon and Sergiusz shouted simultaneously. After a short chase, they cornered the bald, neatly dressed man carrying shopping bags.

"Sorry..." Sergiusz began. "

I think so," the neatly dressed man grumbled.

"We're not from here," Szymon admitted.

"Yes, sir," Sergiusz added. "We're a bit tired.

" "He was only three years old.

" "And that was the only time.

" "Exactly...

" "That's very nice," the neatly dressed man praised them.

"We're looking for the house of Mr. and Mrs. Cień," Sergiusz announced. "Maybe you?"

He stopped mid-sentence as the neatly dressed man leaned over him, grabbed his shirt, and asked coldly,

"What are you looking for there?

" "Sunshine, fresh air, a pleasant atmosphere..." Szymon explained.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cień are my uncle," Sergiusz added. "We came here for a vacation.

" "Oh, yes." The neatly dressed man straightened up, but still didn't let go of Sergiusz. "Yes, it's very sad..."

After these words, there was a moment of gloomy, depressing silence.

"Okay," the neatly dressed man smiled at Sergius, let go of his shirt, patted him on the shoulder, picked up the shopping bag from the ground, and left.

"Uh?" Simon asked.

"Follow me, I'm going towards their house," the neatly dressed man shouted without turning around. "But don't talk to me anymore. I don't feel like talking to you."

They emerged onto a sandy road that meandered spasmodically through fields and meadows. The sun looked down at them lazily from a cloudless sky. The air was dry and hot. The neatly dressed man's bald head gleamed in the sunlight. They followed her as if following the glow of a lantern.

"Is it far yet?" Simon asked.

"Far?..." Sergius pondered.

"Ruhe," the neatly dressed man said.

In silence, they passed meadows, fields, trees growing here and there along the road, a herd of cows gazing at them from under their bullocks... Until finally (because some "finally" had to happen), they passed a low stone wall and stood in the shadow of the Cień family's house.

"Well, well," Simon said.

"Right?" The neatly dressed man nodded as if in contemplation and disappeared.

The Cień family's house was essentially a palace of quite considerable size. The vast, simple structure overwhelmed them with its size and the musty breath of age emanating from the wide-open doors.

"So what?" asked Sergius.

"So how?" replied Simon.

They slowly entered. They found themselves in a surprisingly small hall, with three exits leading from it. After a moment's reflection and a few timid shouts of "hello" and "anyone here," they decided to head for the door directly opposite the main entrance. They found themselves in a wide, bright, but gray corridor, which, in a gentle curve, led them to an oval room. The room contained only an old carpet, a rickety table that seemed completely out of place, two chairs that looked exceptionally uncomfortable, and a clock...

"Look," said Simon. "Just like in the movies.

It was a tall, freestanding clock, made of wood. Behind the glass doors, the uncovered mechanism could be seen, a pendulum swinging steadily...

" "It's late," Sergius observed. "And over twenty minutes too late.

" "Nonsense!" exclaimed a booming voice. "This clock is never late. Here, we simply live twenty minutes less than others.

" A ball in a worn-out gray suit rolled briskly into the room and, after a brief moment of hesitation, grabbed Simon by the neck, shouting, "Sergius, dear boy." There was a rather violent struggle for a moment, until Szymon finally managed to free himself from the suit-clad ball's grip long enough to explain the mistake.

"IT WASN'T ME!" That's exactly what he did.

"No?..." The ball refused to believe it and, just in case, held Szymon in her arms.

"I'm Sergiusz," Sergiusz announced in a rather uncertain tone.

A moment of consternation and the greeting scene repeated itself, thus "Sergiusz, dear boy," and so on. Szymon, tired from his clash with Kulka, sat down on one of the chairs for the time being and decided that the uncomfortable feeling the chairs gave off was entirely consistent with reality.

"Well?" Kulka asked, looking around the room with a proud gaze.

"How do you like it?" "We like it," Szymon replied.

"Eh?" Sergiusz gasped.

"What, you don't recognize me?" Kulka asked in surprise and, laughing churlishly, explained. "It's me, Tobiasz. Your uncle. Well, no wonder you don't remember me. You haven't been here for a long time. It'll be about three years... What? Over 20? Well, yes. That's what I thought. But it's good that you're finally here. Is he your friend?... Yes, yes. I remember you wrote about him in your letter. But I thought you were writing about a friend." No?... I must have rearranged something. That's actually good. Very good. There's a ton of work. But, by the way, do you have a girlfriend? Excellent. There's such a... Anyway, more on that later. GENTLEMEN! (Here Szymon jumped up from his chair.) My dear boys, you have no idea how glad I am that you've come. It's been so long since anyone visited us. Apart from the tenants, of course... You must be hungry.

- Actually, no...

- Excellent. So first, leave your bags in your rooms, and then we'll go for dinner... Or rather, it's almost dinner. Ha!

Uncle Tobiasz grabbed them by the arms and whisked them away on a wild ride. They raced down some corridors, up some stairs, past some rooms...

"Just remember the way," warned Uncle Tobiasz. "The house is big, you could get lost.

" "What?"

Szymon wasn't entirely sure, but perhaps on the second floor, as they left the stairs, they entered a long, left-hand bend, passing a wide alcove on the right, where, out of the corner of his eye, he could make out the silhouette of a man sitting in a deep, leather armchair. They stopped only before the glass-enclosed balcony door that ended the corridor.

"Your rooms," Tobiasz announced, opening the doors to their left and right. Szymon barely had time to place his backpack on the bed... A moment later, Tobiasz snatched him back... The most important thing is that I have my bed, Szymon thought. "The bed is the most important thing..."

There was no one left in the alcove, in the armchair. Only a trace remained, imprinted on the leather surface. And then the stairs again, then the corridors, some rooms. Szymon had doubts about whether he would be able to find his way back to his room. And finally, they reached the kitchen.

"Well!" said Szymon, impressed by the vastness of the room. The kitchen was equipped with modern appliances and brand new Italian furniture... However, the beauty of this furniture was lost in the vast space. All the equipment was tucked against one wall and looked as if it were waiting for a buyer in a furniture store window... The oval table occupying the center of the kitchen made a much better impression. A table with... 35 seats, Szymon counted instinctively.

"Good morning," said a short, slender woman, whose presence Szymon only just noticed. She practically blended into the background... She was dressed modestly in gray, with a pretty, pleasant face, exuding sincere optimism and a simple approach to life. She smiled uncertainly. Her hands were clasped beneath the apron tied around her waist.

"Teresa, my wife," Tobias announced in a booming voice. "And this is... Err...

" "Sergiusz," he hurried to help.

"Exactly!" he exclaimed loudly, seeming to slightly frighten Teresa. "And his friend... They're terribly hungry, so serve dinner, woman."

Teresa laughed softly, absentmindedly, kissed Sergiusz (she blushed furiously as she did so) and with grace and skill began to set the table. Uncle Tobiasz, meanwhile, seated Simon and Sergiusz at the table, sat down next to them, and began to speak...

"You have no idea how happy I am that you've arrived. No one has visited us here for a long time. It's true that we always rent a few rooms, but it's not the same as family... And, you see, we have no family here. The children have left and only show up for the holidays... Good, that's all. And the house is getting old. It's falling into disrepair." There's no money for renovations, and I don't have the strength to try to fix anything myself..." Tobiasz's face grew so gloomy that Szymon felt like patting him on the shoulder reassuringly. "Well! But it's not that bad yet. You guys can help me fix a few things... Like the roof. The roof needs to be patched from the outside, because they're predicting rain tonight. A little longer and the attic floor will start to rot. And under the attic are rooms that we're renting out the day after tomorrow... Imagine, I managed to rent all the rooms. To whom? I don't know. Some company. Very nice, reliable people. They've already paid for three months. Well... Thanks to that, we've come alive again, because things were already a bit tough for us. Sigh... what times we've had. If my grandfather had seen this, he'd probably have excommunicated me from the family. The Cień family seat is a hotel! Well, that's the way it is... Oh! You can eat now! You look miserable. But you'll gain a bit of weight eating country food.

Szymon thought the last sentence sounded like a threat. He began his meal with some trepidation, hoping that not everything on the table would have to be consumed. Oh well, his hopes were dashed.

Half an hour later, sleepy and with a stomach crammed to the point of absurdity, he followed Tobias through the maze of corridors and rooms on the ground floor. "I just hope I don't get lost," he thought fearfully, quickening his pace. Behind him, he heard Sergius's growing panting... A moment later, they were back in the shadow of the Cień household. In the drawn-out colors of late noon, the building made an even greater impression on Simon.

"There," Tobias pointed to the edge of the roof, high above them. "It should be somewhere there. On this side. Somewhere about halfway up the roof.

" "What?" Sergius asked sleepily.

"A hole," Simon replied, realizing with dread that Tobias most likely expected them to climb onto the roof and repair it.

"The point is," Tobias blithely confirmed his suspicions, "to patch up the hole a bit. There are already some boards there and the old tar paper... Ugh. I'd go with you, but I'm a bit afraid of heights." I'm about to puke... I mean, I'm feeling dizzy. Besides, you can manage on your own...

There was a moment of silence, during which all three of them looked up, towards the roof.

"What?" Sergiusz reflected. "Now, now?

" "Well..." Tobiasz nodded vigorously.

"It's not dangerous?" Simon reassured himself.

"No," Tobiasz replied decisively. "Unless you fell off the roof.

" "Okay...

" "Let's go," Sergiusz ordered in a suddenly belligerent tone. And off he went.

***

The attic was exactly as it should be: huge, dark, and covered in dust. First they coughed a bit, then they found a narrow ladder that led from the window to the roof, and finally, ignoring Tobiasz's encouraging shouts, they realized that repairing the roof at this height wasn't such a good idea. Tobiasz had a completely different opinion.

"Here are the tools and materials," he announced, pointing to a hazy pile of junk lying near the ladder. "I'll give them to you once you're up.

" "Is there a safety rope?" Szymon asked.

"What? Ha, ha! Give it a rest. It would only get in your way. Come on! Let's get to work!"

At the top, they were greeted by a calm, refreshing breeze and a warm wave of orange sunlight. But it was sunshine!

"How's it going?" Sergiusz asked.

"Fucking amazing... I meant... How beautiful it is.

" "How beautiful it is..."

Around them lay the rural-forest vista of Ciap, composed mainly of green meadows, the gentle sway of trees, and the orange glow of the lazily flowing ribbon of the river that encircled the Cień estate from the north and west. The air was permeated with the scent of grass and damp, and quivered with the evening chatter of birds and the incessant chirping of crickets.

"That reminds me of something." Szymon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I've felt this way before.

" "I think it was right there, right then.

" "It was a bit colder.

" "There was alcohol.

" "And we were a bit younger.

" "Right...

" "On the roof of the world.

" "In the shadow of God's Heel.

" "A few moments before returning to reality...

" "A few moments of unintentional awareness.

" "My name is Szymon. I'm 25 years old. I've been working for a CORPORATION as a consultant for three years. I'm considered a good specialist in my field, and they still talk about me having a chance at a great career—whatever that means." I live alone in a rented apartment. I spend the statutory eight hours at work, rarely forcing myself to stay longer. But even those eight hours are enough to drain me of the will to do literally anything. I have no purpose, no passion, no ideas, no muse. I live on momentum and a spirit of rationality that I learned on my own." I've forgotten what my dreams were like. I've stopped thinking about death. And even though I'm still alive, I don't think much about life anymore. Sometimes I still try to read a book, but the words don't play within me the way they used to. I feel like I'm asleep.

"That how...

" "That what...

" "And why?

" "As usual, for the same reason?

" "Right.

" "Time to get to work.

Within an hour, they constructed a makeshift patch using boards and tar paper...

" "I think that's enough," Simon mused.

"And once again, a great job..." Sergiusz muttered indistinctly.

"There's still so much to do.

" "It's not worth doing today

." "There will be time enough tomorrow."

They looked around the Cień estate from the roof once more. The world had turned gray, shrunk in on itself, and seemed to freeze. Somewhere in the distance, the bell tolled.

***

He woke suddenly. The darkness terrified him. Darkness and silence... Only after a moment did he make out the faint outline of a window, and it helped him remember where he was. He didn't feel well. After a rather large dinner, he felt sluggish and had a slight headache. He was terribly thirsty.

He strained his eyes again, trying to discern other features of the room he'd been placed in, but he could barely make out the shape of his hand, which he waved a short distance from his face. He felt uneasy, alien... The silence overwhelmed him. He cleared his throat to dispel it, but it was of little use. For a moment, he hoped he could fall back asleep, but after tossing and turning a few times, he turned on the light and decided to go to the bathroom to find some water.

The corridor sucked him into its darkness, settling him with a faint puff of fear on his shoulders. The light streaming through the ajar door to his room seemed to collide with some invisible obstacle at the threshold. He groped, guided by the memory of the bathroom door, which should be somewhere on the left side of the corridor. His eyes had never seen such darkness. His city room was brighter even when he closed his eyes.

"Damn," he thought, "I don't really feel like drinking." Somewhere at the end of that thought, he heard a rustling sound. The sound was so faint and blurred that he couldn't make out where it was coming from. Was it even there? He stopped. How far was it to the bathroom? It didn't matter, he was coming back. And again. The same rustling sound, only longer. As if something was being dragged across the carpet. Something heavy, clumsy, stiff... Probably behind him, to his right. He stood still, furious at his own breathing. It drowned out everything! He stood there long enough to finally decide it was stupid and that he was probably "imagining it." He took a step forward... Then another, and his hand finally saw the door. He might have been a little too nervous for the handle, but as soon as he opened the door and felt for the light switch, he calmed down.

Oh!

The bathroom light was a deathly pale shade, an effect intensified by the monotonous white of the walls. A man of about sixty years stood before him. He was portly, though slightly stooped. He wore dark leather slippers and a red bathrobe. He had gray hair, a gray beard, and incredibly beautiful, dark eyes that revealed nothing... Simply nothing.

"I... I'm sorry...

" "It doesn't matter," the man replied, stepping past him, out into the hallway, and vanishing into the darkness with a soft rustle.