‘Do you understand what’s happening in this tunnel?’

‘No one knows that, including me,’ Khan answered reluctantly. ‘Yes, there are some things that even I know exactly nothing about. The only thing I can tell you is that it’s an abyss. I call this place the black hole… You probably have never seen a star? Or did you say you once saw one? And do you know anything about the cosmos? Well, a dying star can look like a hole if, when it goes out, it is affected by its own incredibly powerful energy and it starts to consume itself, taking matter from the outside to the inside, to its centre, which is becoming smaller all the time, but more dense and heavier. And the denser it becomes, the more its force of gravity grows. This process is irreversible and it’s like an avalanche: with the ever-increasing gravity, the growing quantity of matter is drawn faster and faster to the heart of the monster. At a certain stage, its power achieves such magnitudes that it sucks in its neighbours, and all the matter that is located within the bounds of its influence, and finally, even light waves. The gigantic force allows it to devour the rays of other suns, and the space around it is dead and black – nothing that falls into its possession has the strength to pull itself away. This is a star of darkness, a black sun, and around it is only cold and darkness.’ He went quiet, listening to the conversation of the people ahead of them.

‘But what does that have to do with the tunnel?’ Artyom couldn’t resist asking after a five-minute silence.

‘You know, I have the gift of foresight. I sometimes succeed in seeing into the future, into the past, or sometimes I can transport my mind to other places. Sometimes it’s unclear, it’s hidden from me, like, for example, I don’t know how your journey will end – your future is generally a mystery to me. It’s kind of like looking through dirty water and you can’t make out anything. But when I try to look into what happened here or to understand the nature of this place – there’s only blackness in front of me, and the rays of my thoughts don’t return from the absolute darkness of this tunnel. That’s why I call it the black hole. That’s all I can tell you about it.’ And he went silent, but after a few moments, he added, ‘And that’s why I’m here.’

‘So you don’t know why sometimes this tunnel is completely safe and other times it swallows people? And why it only takes people travelling alone?’

‘I know nothing more about it that you do, even though I’ve been trying for three years to figure out this mystery. So far, in vain.’

Their steps resounded with a distant echo. The air here was transparent, and breathing was surprisingly easy, and the darkness didn’t seem frightening. Khan’s words didn’t put him on his guard or worry him; Artyom thought that his companion was so gloomy not because of the secrets and hazards of the tunnel but because of the futility of his investigations. His preoccupation was self-conscious and even ridiculous in Artyom’s opinion. Here was the passage and there were no threats here, it was straight and empty… A boisterous melody even started to play in his head, and apparently it then became external without his noticing, because Khan suddenly looked at him mockingly and asked:

‘So then, isn’t this fun? It’s nice here, right? So quiet, so clean, yes?’

‘Aha!’ Artyom agreed joyfully.

And he felt so light and free in his soul because Khan had understood his mood and was also affected by it… He is also walking and smiling and not burdened with heavy thoughts, he also believes that this tunnel is…

‘So now, cover your eyes, and I’ll take you by the hand so you won’t stumble… Do you see anything?’ Khan asked with interest, softly squeezing Artyom’s wrist.

‘No, I don’t see anything, only a little light from the flashlights through my eyelids,’ Artyom said a little disappointedly, squeezing his eyes closed obediently – and suddenly he quietly yelped.

‘There – you made it!’ Khan noted with satisfaction. ‘It’s beautiful, yes?’

‘Amazing… It’s like when… There’s no ceiling, and everything is so blue… My God, what beauty! And how easy to breathe!’

‘That, my friend, is the sky. It’s curious, no? If you relax and close your eyes in the right mood here, then lots of people see it. It’s strange, of course… Even those who have never been to the surface see it. And the feeling is as though you’ve landed at the surface… before it all happened.’

‘And you, do you see it?’ Artyom asked blissfully, not wanting to open his eyes.

‘No,’ Khan said darkly. ‘Almost everyone sees it but I don’t. I only see thick, bright darkness around the tunnel, if you know what I mean. Blackness above, below, and on all sides, and only a small thread of light extends into the tunnel, and we follow it when we’re in the labyrinth. Maybe I’m blind. Or maybe everyone else is blind. OK, open your eyes, I’m not a guide dog and I don’t intend to take you by the hand to Kitai Gorod.’ He let go of Artyom’s wrist.

Artyom tried to walk on with his eyes squeezed shut but he stumbled on a cross-tie and almost fell to the ground along with his whole load. After that, he reluctantly lifted his eyelids and stayed silent for a long while afterwards, smiling stupidly.

‘What was it?’ he asked finally.

‘Fantasies. Dreams. A mood. Everything together,’ Khan replied. ‘But it’s very changeable. It’s not your mood or your dreams. There are a lot of us here and so far nothing has happened, but the mood can change totally, and you will feel it. Look there, we are already coming out at Turgenevskaya! We got here fast. But we can’t stop here at any cost, not even for a break. People will probably ask to take a break but not everyone feels the tunnel. The majority of them don’t even feel what is accessible to you. We need to go on, even though now it will be harder.’

They stepped into the station. The light marble that coated the walls was barely distinguishable from that which covered the walls at Prospect Mir and Sukharevskaya, but there the walls and ceilings were so smoke-stained and greasy that the stone was almost invisible. Here it was untainted and it was hard not to admire it. People had left this place so long ago that there was no trace of their presence. The station was in surprisingly good condition, as though it had never been flooded, never seen a fire, and if it weren’t for the pitch darkness and the layer of dust on the floor, benches and walls, you could have thought that in a minute a stream of passengers would start flowing into it or, after emitting its melodious signal, a train would arrive. It had hardly changed after all these years. His stepfather had described all this with bewilderment and awe.

There weren’t any columns in Turgenevskaya. Low arches were cut in thick marble at wide intervals. The flashlights of the caravan didn’t have enough power to disperse the dusk of the hall and to light the opposite wall so it looked as though there was absolutely nothing beyond the arches, as though there was the end of the universe.

They passed through the station rather quickly and, contrary to Khan’s fears, no one expressed the desire to stop for a break. People looked perturbed and they started talking more and more about the fact that they needed to go as fast as they could, and get to an inhabited place.

‘Do you feel it, the mood is changing…’ Khan observed quietly, raising a finger as though trying to feel the direction of the wind. ‘We do indeed have to go faster, they’ll feel this on their skin no less than I will with my mysticism. But there’s something preventing me from continuing on our route. Wait here for a little while…’

He took the map that he called the Guide out of his pocket carefully and, having told everyone to stay still, he extinguished his flashlight and took a few long and soft steps and disappeared into the dark.