An felt the call before he realized he could move again.

  It always happened the same way: in a world where nothing ever changed, a sensation would suddenly appear - a sense of necessity. Not a desire. Not an order. Precisely a necessity. He simply knew he had to stand up and go. He rose from the chair.

  As always, Limbo stretched out around him.

  A pce where those who had died waited their time - those who had made it to neither heaven nor hell. Though he should have seen a boundless pin, Limbo looked like an endless open-pn office. No walls. No ceiling. Dim, yellowish light. Rows of chairs, desks, benches, and support columns fading into a yellow haze. Perspective dissolved somewhere far away, and with it, the sense of time.

  People sat everywhere.

  Gssy eyes. Closed eyes. Indifferent faces - lethargic, despairing, empty. No one spoke. No one moved. The silence here wasn’t the absence of sound; it was its repcement. It had ruled this pce for as long as An could remember.

  Which wasn’t long.

  He didn’t know how he had ended up in Limbo. He didn’t remember dying. He didn’t even remember whether he had believed in anything. But he had always known one thing: he was called when something broke.

  His legs carried him forward on their own - between rows of motionless bodies, past desks and benches. Toward the office counter. Always to it.

  The counter looked strange and painfully ordinary at the same time: square, hollow inside. Inside the square stood them.

  An didn’t know who they were. But he always obeyed.

  Tall, slender women with fwless skin and identical modest hairstyles. White blouses. Dark skirts. Faces cold and emotionless, as if carved from the same mold.

  Usually there were more of them. Today - only two.

  And something was wrong.

  They stood tense. Too alive. Too… human. The dark-haired one drummed her fingers against the surface of the counter - a sound that shouldn’t have existed here. It struck An’s ears like a handful of shattered gss.

  The other leaned down and pulled a leather belt with a holster from beneath the counter.

  - …Not a voice - only its trace.

  They didn’t speak. Ever.

  She simply nodded.

  An mechanically extended his hands and took the belt. Put it on. Felt the stiffness in his back and shoulders. Felt the weight of his own body. Felt himself.

  For the first time since he had arrived in Limbo.

  How long have I been here?.. he thought - and couldn’t answer.

  The elevator appeared beside him soundlessly, as always. But this time it didn’t rush him. An turned around. The women were looking at him. There was no command in their gaze.

  There was… expectation? And anxiety.

  He stepped into the elevator - and fell downward.

  The doors opened, and scorching summer light smmed into his face.

  An squeezed his eyes shut. The air was warm and dense, smelling of dust, asphalt, and exhaust fumes. He inhaled sharply, convulsively. In surprise. Like someone afraid that breathing itself might hurt.

  But there was no pain.

  He knew this pce.

  Old two- and four-story buildings. Uneven trees along the sidewalks. Apple and cherry trees. Grass darkened by the heat. He stood by rows of garages, on the very edge of town. The first half of his life had passed here.

  He knew where to go. He always did.

  The only question was… why?