– I'm from the different St. Petersburg, the one in Russia.

– Russia! – Kirk is pleasantly surprised, – There's St. Petersburg too?

– Yup. And Seattle – where is it? In Canada or Mexico? – I inquire.

Kirk chews his cigar unable to understand whether I'm kidding or really don't know such an outstanding city.

– It's in America!

– Which one, South or Latin?

No, even if he's a typical and real American, he's a nice guy nevertheless, he laughs and slightly pushes me on the stomach.

– Great! Cool! I'll visit you, later. I'm planning to visit Europe when I'm 45, will go see your city too!

– Sure. You're welcome to.

I'm so exhausted by the deep program that stand here and eagerly support this ridiculous talk.

– I'm giving a ride around to the tourists, – Kirk goes on, – father's business. It's great! Today we were going through the city, one girl kept asking to show her the diver. I pointed at one guy outside, said, "Diver!". They almost overturned the bus when all of them rushed to that side to look.

We laugh together.

– We seldom come here, – Kirk smooches his cigar, – But Sam kept asking to show him the book center, se we decided to stop here… not too far for him to go, and also restaurants are close… and stuff… Sam is the one in jeans and t-shirt…

– Huh? That black one?

Kirk chokes on his cigar from such an outrageous racism. How dare one to call the black one – black!

– Well, I have to go, business… – he mumbles and quickly moves to the bus without saying goodbye. I just shrug. Oh citizens of the mighty country, if you just could realize how ridiculous and stupid your complexes are!

But it's time for me to go too. I raise my hand and the cab readily appears from around the corner.

– Deep-Transit welcomes you! – says the driver. As if purposefully he's black and I laugh quietly, getting into the car.

1

The drive takes quite long, Deep-Transit connects to "Polyana" company through quite a bunch of intermediate hosts. My computer is not powerful enough to support appropriately the whole house where I rent an apartment from myself, so "Polyana" is hosted by someone's rental server, somewhere in Byelorussia I suppose. It's not too expensive and I ain't gonna change this order even when I buy a real machine instead of my current Pentium.

On my way I have fun making the world around drawn and real in turns. Now I succeed in this without effort. Even more – I can change the space perception in fragments. A drawn car passes our real one. A real girl walks along the drawn street. Two guys stand chatting: one is real, another one – cartoony.

Even if it's insanity, I really like it.

I make the Volvo I'm riding in drawn and pull my hand through the window. A slight pressure on my skin – and the hand feels the wind outside.

Fantastic!

The world around belongs to foreign servers, I'm just passing here, maybe it's even impossible to get here by an ordinary means… while at any moment I can exit, fall from the speeding car. Something have shifted, messed up. I don't dive into the Deep anymore, I really live in here!

In a block from my house I ask the driver to stop. I know this neighborhood very well, it belongs to the couple of big Russian banks, not officially of course. Financiers don't see any real use of such 'investments', but the programmers working for the banks had set a dwelling here on their companies' expense. What boss from 'New Russians' would ever find out that his computers don't only make debit to meet credit, but also support a part of Deeptown's territory?

It's the best place to test the newly acquired abilities.

Lots of people hovers about here: it's the downtown, both living quarters and entertainment centers are pretty close. I walk along the street looking for more or less quiet corner.

This one looks okay: a tiny park with small fountain and a couple of benches, attached to a blind wall of the highrise, made simply but with taste. Ignoring the sign "No dogs allowed!", a red haired girl walks on the grass with a kitten in the lead. Hm, well, pretty logical – the ban is not for them. The kitten is obviously pissed by the nasty lead, he stops from time to time and tries to tear it off with a paw. I smile in return to the strict girl's look and make her drawn in a moment effort. The kitten stays real, he's sunny-red, just as his mistress, quick and fidgety.

Virtual pets is one of the most profitable businesses in Deeptown, the second after computer games of course. The Japanese love to keep those – maybe because it's impossible to keep the real ones in their pencil-box apartments? Also those pets are being bought by those poor ones who love cats and dogs but suffer from allergies…

I sit on the bench, by the couple that softly whispers to each other, examine the blind wall listening to the purling of water in the fountain. If I'm not mistaken, there are computers of a very well known bank behind it. Should I give it a try?

Ah, what the hell, I'm already charged for millions in damages, one wouldn't be sorry about the hair when his head is taken off…

Calming myself with the splinters from the people's wisdom treasury, I still can't make up my mind. The couple is nuzzling not paying any attention to me. I hope they are lovers divided by thousands of kilometers, not just seekers of safe adventures.

The kids run back and forth along the wall: a girl and two boys, holding color chalks in their hands and excitedly covering the wall with graffiti. I can hear cheerful shouts: "Hey Janka, Andryushka's monster was scarier!" … "Sevka, come on, give me the red chalk, will you?". Looks like somebody have brought their offspring for a virtual walk. Finally the kids calm down and start drawing. The girl draws the samurai with a sword, the sword is almost real. Chubby glasses bearer Seva runs along the wall picturing something like a snake that swallowed an elephant. But the snake gets a barrel and I understand that it's just a tank. Skinny and swarthy Andrei diligently wheezes drawing an impossible monster. Maybe intentionally, maybe he wanted to draw a man…

I stand up and pad towards the kids.

– Hey guys, could you draw a door? – I ask all three.

The question have definitely puzzled them, but after a short debate they start working on the requested together. The door is being drawn with excitement, mutual taking of chalks away and arguments about whether they should draw a keyhole. I wait patiently. Finally the drawing is finished and the young talents look at me with demand: will I appreciate their work or not?

– Cool, – I say honestly, – Thanks a lot!

The door looks in fact good. It is drawn right between the elephant's trunk… errr… the tank's barrel and the samurai's sword. It has a keyhole, and a handle, and even hinges.

– You have really helped me out! – I confess.

The kids wait stubbornly.

Then I make the street around drawn, make a deep breath, relax and turn the door into the real one.

It's just an illusion, not more than an illusion of course…

I stretch my hand and pull the door towards me, once and again.

No effect. What was I expecting after all?

In anger, I kick the real door in the drawn wall and it sweeps open.

It opens to the inside… Wow, it worked!

The kids scream from behind, not scared or surprised but cheered mostly. Followed by these screams I enter the impenetrable wall.

And get into the bathhouse.

The ancient Romans who were real experts in this, along with the thrifty Finnish and heated Russians would burst with envy: it's a huge marble hall, the glass dome above is slightly covered with snow, cold winter sun beaming through it. A round pool is in the center of the hall, a dozen of men cools down in it. The mountains and a steep slope can be seen through the windows, several more guys, the boldest ones run down the slope raising fountains of snow dust. The heavy wooden door swings open and a skinny guy runs out of the sweating-room with a scream, dives into the pool and starts jumping on one place raising waves. The bald fat man wrapped in the sheet drinks beer by the bar, glancing at the pool with condescension.