It [doesn't] hurt

      A gray, sleepy sky hangs overhead. Eva wanders on the navigator from the bus stop. The outskirts of new Beijing are confused by the intricacy of streets and a poorly configured map. Navigation fails every now and then, prompting old places and old buildings that have not existed for several years. After the Second Blow, heavy rains and rising waves forced people to move, seek shelter and fight with each other for a place in the sun.       Beijing has suffered noticeably, recovered and has become almost four times smaller than before. Abandoned high—rise buildings, spontaneous forests in the places of former districts, new rivers and lakes appeared - changed the geographical map.       The outskirts are now where Songzhuang was once located. Separated by a river and seemingly abandoned and unsociable. Did the Commander choose an amazing place to live, or did she not choose it?       Several twelve-storey box buildings that are absolutely identical from the outside stand at a measured distance of up to millimeters from each other. Eva gets confused in them and gets lost, passes by the right house several times, but does not understand this.       Fear.       The only thing that the girl experiences after meeting with Professor Farbe. Her cold, cruel gaze painfully penetrates the soul. Eva tries to put it out of her mind, flatters herself with the illusion of being able to make friends, to prove that she is no longer just a girl at school.       The house turns out to be the very first in a row, if you walk from the bus stop. Shikinami grins at his inattention, takes a deep breath of unusual air and looks at the sky with pleasure — all this is the beginning of a new life.       He takes the freight elevator to the tenth floor — looks at himself in a large mirror, straightens his hair and clothes — at first he gets lost from the door without a keyhole and a bell. Just knocking. She squeezes and unclenches her fingers on the handle of the suitcase that stands to her right. The electronic lock clicks and the door slides to the right.       The girl carefully crosses the threshold of the house, slightly lifting the suitcase so that he also calmly drove in. The door closes automatically behind her.        — Eighth child, Light, nice to meet you, — the young man stretches out his hand to shake.        — The fifth child, Eva, is mutual, — Eva smiles and lightly touches his hand.       She stealthily examines him: tall, a head taller than herself; although she is one hundred and sixty-five; with dark brown hair falling in strands over his shoulders, big brown eyes and long fingers on his hands.       Like a pianist, she thought. Next to him, the girl feels ugly, plain, ordinary.        — The Ninth child, Nastya, still lives with us, — the guy casually runs his fingers through his hair and ruffles them.       The name seems familiar, quite rare in these times. Eva goes through the memories in her head, as she flips through a picture book. Lingers on the footage from elementary school — Nastya is a friend and classmate who moved for family reasons almost at the very beginning of high school.        — She's not here right now, — the Eighth moves away from the cabinet and examines the new pilot. — In principle, life is quite simple: by order of Seele, pilots live with the Commander, — walks back and forth in a small patch of the hallway. — But this is temporary, everyone promises to build a large residential complex for employees. Some, as I have heard, live in communal apartments. Have you read about them in a history textbook? — he stops, looks at the girl with curiosity and a playful sparkle in his eyes.       — Read, — Eva crumples the hem of the T-shirt. This guy is too open and pleasant, dispels longing, embarrasses. In the training center, the guys were ordinary, unsociable, passed the selection, did not get close to anyone, then disappeared without a trace.       The apartment is small: an entrance hall, which accommodates a built-in wardrobe, a shoe rack next to it; to the right of the front door is a small chest of drawers with three drawers, on which there are a bunch of all sorts of flyers and bills. The age of technology, the expectation of aliens, and advertising is printed on pieces of paper and shoved into mailboxes. In fact, the explanation is simple: many have learned to protect their electronic mailboxes and nothing comes there except what is allowed by the user himself. The scripts are wrong and the accounts fall into the "spam" category.       To the left of the entrance is the same built-in closet, behind it is the door to the bathroom. Go a little straight and there will be an arch to the kitchen to the right. There is no door, either from a design solution, or from saving space. Although sliding doors do not eat up space at all. The kitchen is quite spacious, made in dark chocolate, with a dining table in the center, which does not interfere with moving and cooking in any way.       From the hallway and straight into the living room. On the left is the door to the Commander's room, which has its own bathroom; then there is a TV, a sofa in front of it; further, on the left wall, almost at the window is the door to the pilots' room. It is small, like a standard dorm room: it accommodates a bunk bed on the right side and an ordinary single bed on the left. There is a desk by the window, opposite the door, and two tall but narrow pencil cases are squeezed in on either side of it.        — I sleep on the top bed, Nastya on the single bed. You get a place under me, — remaining in the doorway when Eva entered the room, Light says and leans his shoulder on the doorway. .        — She didn't choose this place because something is wrong with it? — the girl asks with a smile, parking her suitcase at the table and sitting down on a chair. Fatigue from finding a home and nervous tension after moving and that meeting affected.        — I don't think so, I just wanted to, — Light walks away from the opening and shrugs, didn't understand the joke.       — OK, — pulls Shikinami, gets up and opens the suitcase. There are just a few things: two pairs of jeans, a black bell skirt, a gray dress, three multi-colored T-shirts, underwear, socks, two pairs of sneakers and stilettos, God knows why they were bought. The main space of the suitcase was occupied by jars and tea bags. Her foster mother taught her the magic of tea drinking, properly brewed herbs, selected according to the desired effect: to get vivacity or vice versa calm, cheer up, calm the stomach, arouse appetite and much more. Teas became a hobby for the girl, occupied a significant place in her life even at the Shanghai base, where over time even the coaches and staff looked in on her for tea, told her something, brought goodies.        She carefully places the jars of tea in one cabinet in the kitchen, which, according to Light, has not been used by anyone. She is tempted to ask about the Commander, but the fear of giving away something more than interest makes her hold back.       Careful glances with another pilot, simple conversations about nothing, light jokes fill the house.        The electronic lock clicks.       Light is lying upstairs and listening to music with headphones. Eva, after drinking tea and tidying up the kitchen, where, as it seemed to her, it was a little dirty, looks out into the hallway.       Nastya carefully takes off her pumps and goes into the bathroom in boiling white socks, rinses her hands and, coming out, notices Eva.       — Are you the Fifth Child? — an indifferent voice. Colorless and dry.       At least there was no stupid question: "What are you doing here? Kaaaak, are you the Fifth Child?" Eva thinks with relief and nods in response to her friend. Or an ex-girlfriend.        — I'm glad to see you, — she smiles and blows on a black strand that has escaped from the bun and is now swinging before her eyes. The ninth is silent, quickly examines, analyzes a new colleague and goes into the room.       Emptiness, cold — Nastya's gaze is somewhat similar to the Commander's gaze. There are more questions than answers; a feeling of loneliness and rejection. Eva washes her face and looks at her reflection: blue eyes, disheveled black hair, a gray T-shirt and denim shorts of a shabby blue color.       The fifth is lying in bed and looking at the mattress of the upper bed, chasing questions around in her head, trying to analyze.       <i>The commander hates me. God knows why. If I dig into my memory, I can't remember how I could have offended her, but on the other hand, I was eleven and I almost don't remember anything from those times. But Nastya is a big question. And if you don't come up like this, you won't ask head-on. And if you ask, you won't get an answer anyway. Dreams come true, right? I was so hoping to see her and the Commander someday. But everything is as always...       She turns over on her right side and closes her eyes; the indifferent face of the foster mother appears before her inner eye, behind him, as on slides, the face of her curator appears in the training center; he was kind to her, but did not cross boundaries, did not show interest in her personality, like everyone else. Eva herself was not used to anyone there, except for one girl, whom she supported, but she did not pass training and was returned to a foster family.       It is difficult to face the Commander in the apartment. Some kind of incomprehensible, subconscious fear that has yet to be overcome. If you behave naturally and friendly with everyone, then they will start to treat you better. You just need to not show any more interest. Just being polite. The most common courtesy, respect.       "Treat people the way you want to be treated," said the foster mother, invariably waving some rags. Washing, washing, washing—everything that this woman cared about. She treated Eve with impartiality and lack of affection, wanting the same attitude from her. She was affectionate with her husband.        — Good morning, — passing into the kitchen says the Fifth. Nastya and the Commander are already sitting at the table. Light is still sleeping.       Neither one nor the other answer anything, as if they hadn't heard. Eva opens the refrigerator, takes out the rolls she bought yesterday at the supermarket, stretches to put the box on the communal table.        — Don't even think about it, — the Commander says calmly, but very coldly. — I'm ready to put up with your presence, but I don't even dare to sit down at the table when we eat.