She created plots the verisimilitude of which was hard to doubt.
When you have to learn a new occupation to act a single minute-long scene, Richard smirked.
When you have to pry into archives of National Library in Paris and translate the periodics of the entire summer of a specific year of the nineteenth century to write a single episode in a historical novel, Alexandra joined in. Exactly so. Man underestimates his imaginative abilities and gives little thought to the fact that the objective reality is no different from a fictional one.
It would be good if everyone only did evil in their own head.
Yes, she agreed easily. Ideally yes. But no one listens even though everything is so simple.
Truly, simple But both of them are now sitting in a café in reality, not in imagination, and the world around them is real and corporeal just as the unfinished cup of cappuccino and the half of a bagel on the plate.
He felt that it got hotter like in a Hot and Cold game. She was smart and perceptive, she was still looking at him closely to see something that he hid behind the mask of sympathy and bashfulness. He wasnt acting out the part of a ladykiller, he wasnt portraying a head-over-heels fan he chose something in the middle, he wanted to show that he was different from the rest though unsuccessfully for now.
Shes gotten used to being used shes gotten used to being wanted. She hid under the guise of openness and disinhibition, but behind the acceptance of the world as it is with the ignorance and the cruelty she hid disappointed resignation.
Everythings simple.
You speak as if you know everything there is to know, and youre bored because of it.
She paused to think, her dark eyes were looking not at Richard but at the window, at the shop signs on the opposite side of the street, at the passers-by and the passing cabs.
Maybe, she said after some time. Sometimes thats how it is, no kidding. Moreover, I share it, I tell a lot and translate a lot into an accessible language of metaphors, archetypes, role models and digestible plots but it still only reaches those who want to see and hear.
Richard hid his excitement, he merely shifted his legs on the bar of the counter-height stool.
Alchemy?
The very one, Alexandra replied with a smile. The wine of the blood of kings, the becoming and the purpose, the Great Work Who needs all that if everyone saw cats and vineyards, medieval catacombs and a dog-loving autistic being rescued from prison by his visionary wife?
Riddles again She explained the meaning of every metaphor in her books, they came together into a certain algorithm of success of any work but there was always something missing. Like in encryption: she made one key public, the other kept to herself because only those among the Poets had that key.
I need it, Richard raised his eyebrows slightly, he looked at Alexandra closely until she looked back at him. I seemingly understood everything and still understood nothing.
She sighed and smiled. Softly, forgivingly. She had assumed they would talk about the objective reality London, Moscow, parties and masquerades, the sphere of work they had in common according to his cover story And hes expecting a revelation from her as if she could, here and now, show him the secrets of existence.
And why do you need that?
Good question. To complete the mission.
To become myself.
He himself didnt understand why he said it like that his mouth spoke it on its own. Odd but it was as if he began to hear her better, speak her language without coercion, without constant interpretation of every outputted sentence.
You already have everything you need to do that, Richard North. Dont look for answers on the outside theyre inside us. As soon as you learn who you are, everything will happen on its own because there will simply be no other option.
Thats complicated.
Complexity is a habit. We build a pile of terms and concepts all our lives, trying to describe the world around us, we use the visible to describe the visible and we deny what we dont understand or cant describe. If I tell you that theres someone behind your back, and you wont turn will you be able to describe whats behind you?
Laymen get migraines from such conversations. MI6 agents mustnt have migraines because theyre ineffective.
I will, he said, moving his shoulders involuntarily as if he had goosebumps. Intuition, imagination, juxtaposition of indirect indicators the reflection in the glass, breathing, noise, the direction of your gaze
She liked the answer.
Alexandra beamed, So you know everything even without me and understanding will come when the right time comes. Alchemy is, foremost, not transformation of the external, but transformation of the internal.
The only thing hes managed to understand so far was, the more he opens up to her, the more she trusts him. She asked the imaginary intelligence agent to undress not out of lust, but so he would bare his soul.
Richard ran his palm across his face, his cheeks reddened from a genuine feeling of absurdity. Hell have to pull real bashfulness out of himself not the sly, feigned one with the quickened pulse and cold sweat on his temples.
Its easier to discuss dead bodies, he chuckled.
Because everythings clear with them, going back to the rules of the genre. In our own soul we do the same investigation, we get the system of symbols, the castle of imagination in order. We give every phenomenon a name that gives its essence a clear-cut definition, but ad libitum, not as the world of the objectively existing things teaches us, Alexandra grew silent and then added. Because the objective existence is a myth, just a landmark of the rule of the genre.
His genre is espionage. Richard suddenly became curious about what shell say if he dumps the whole truth at her, as it is: that hes been tailing her for a month already, that MI6 had prepared him to win her trust the best way he can, that he knew her biography. He knew the toothpaste that she brushes her teeth with and the beauty shop in Moscow where she gets her enormous long nails done once every three weeks regardless of her travel arrangements.
That he must become her lover, make it so she brings him into the circle of Poets for him to find out why this alchemical publicity was initiated.
He could offer her to work together, could recruit her, threaten her but she was the kind of cat to walk alone, unable to be scared even by threat of torture and death.
Alexandra may be giving him the go-around In any way, hes both the prime contractor and the expendable supply. To feel anything personal from hurt to disappointment was beyond the bounds of his professional skills. He really does have everything he needs to avoid being fooled.
He doesnt understand what hes looking for even if he was given clear instructions. Its never easy with people, thats a fact but when the players get too far ahead of him, the playing becomes torturous and strenuous.
With her, it was as if Richard was reaching for the moon, but wishing for distant stars that had long died, and the light years distance only brought to eyesight memories of their life.
Oh my god, I didnt mean to work you up! Alexandra exclaimed.
Richard jumped.
The rules of the genre Even she recognizes them.
Everythings fine, I just got lost in thought. Shall we take a walk?
5. Nigredo
[Great Britain, London, Soho]
At the headquarters of MI6 on Cambridge Circus, known as the Circus in the agencys parlance, a real circus was unfolding. Richard was presenting his monthly report, recounting everything he managed to gather during the observation period, detailing recent events his encounter with Stella Fracta, their Domodedovo-Heathrow flight, and their breakfast.