Other universes of Cherner's realities.

The chemistry lesson was supposed to start like any other. Anna Stanislavovna sat at the teacher's desk, flipping through the register and mentally rehearsing the lesson plan when the classroom door swung open and the 11A students began to filter in. She looked up—and immediately sensed: something was off. Kondratiuk, as usual, sat at the front, intensely reciting formulas as if reality ceased to exist around him. Petrosyan was buried in her phone, wearing an expression that suggested the world was merely a backdrop for her screen. The only thing pulling Adelia away from her gadget was Sofia Akatyeva, who sat next to her. From time to time, Petrosyan leaned over to ask her something, show her something, staring at her with an unusual intensity. Interesting, fleetingly thought Shcherbakova. Very interesting. In the second row, Vika Streltsova and Anya Frolova were conspicuously hiding someone behind their backs, while Dasha Usacheva… Dasha Usacheva was hiding under her desk. Anna squinted her eyes. — …So, — she whispered to herself. — This is intriguing. Petrov, Kuptcov, and Plotnikov were eagerly playing "rock-paper-scissors" but with slaps, and Anna absentmindedly recalled how in school she always won—not because she was cleverer, but because she played emotionlessly. Then her gaze drifted further—to the third row. Empty desks. The second last and the last were occupied. And here Anna Stanislavovna froze. Sitting at the desks were not only the students from 11A. There were Vyazev, Melnik, Borodav, Kozlov, Kalinin, Aliev, Vetlugin, Kunitsa, Ignatov, Mozalev, and Gumenik. They were playing poker. Not just playing—like in a real casino: chips, cards, bets. On the table lay: — Semenenko’s car keys, — Zagitova’s makeup bag, — a salary card, — a school pass, — Medvedeva’s apartment keys. Anna blinked. Then again. — I… — she exhaled slowly. — I hope Medvedeva didn’t wager her passport. She pulled out her phone and texted Zagitova. And then—ding. The notification chimed… from the stack of poker chips. Anna’s eye twitched. She texted Medvedeva. Then Semenenko. Gleichenhaus. Tukhtamysheva. Cherner. Zheleznyakov. Averbukh. Glavkov. Dudakov. Sotnikova. And even Tutberidze. All the phones were in the game. Except for two. — I… — Anna ran her hand through her hair. — I’m just going to stand up and quit. She stood. Sat. Rubbed her eyes. Stood again. — This place is a madhouse, not a school. I can’t deal with this. And then, from the back of the second row jumped up Kamila Valieva. — Anna Stanislavovna, please don’t leave! — she blurted out. — Who will teach us chemistry and biology then? We love you! If you leave, we’ll stage a protest and walk out of school together! The class nodded in agreement. Anna looked at them in shock. And then noticed: Sasha Trusova was sitting with a grim expression and without her phone. — …Interesting, — Anna said slowly. Alena Kostornaia burst out laughing: — Anna Stanislavovna, Sasha doesn’t have her phone. She lost it. She wagered it and lost. Then she tried to win it back. — SASHA, YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE! — cried Adelie, Sofia, and Dasha in unison. — I’LL WIN IT BACK! — Sasha screamed. She spun around and grabbed Alena by the face, covering her mouth. Alena immediately bit her arm. — AAAH! — Sasha squealed. — WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! — This is madness… — murmured Anna. And then she looked at Kamila—and went pale. In Valieva’s left nostril was a blood-stained cotton swab. — Kamila, — Anna’s voice hardened. — What happened? — It was Mozalev! — Kamila blurted out, gesturing with her skinny arms. — He hit me in the face with a volleyball! — Me?! — Mozalev replied lazily without taking his eyes off his cards. — Maybe it was Ignatov. You were counting after getting hit by the lamp. Anna slowly turned to him. — Does Tutberidze know about this? — She knows, but… — the class chorused. — What do you mean “but”? — She went to Gleichenhaus. An emergency, — Usacheva said. — An emergency called “Danya lost big,” — Anna scoffed. After that, everything spiraled completely out of control. About Zagitova with coffee. About pastries. About “Alina, I can hear everything.” About “don’t expect a raise.” Anna laughed—nervously, but genuinely. Checking Kamila, she quietly said: — Your nose is fine. You're a trooper. And then she noticed Maya Khromyh under Usacheva’s desk and Katya Naidyonova with notebooks. — So, — Anna raised an eyebrow. — Explain to me why half the grade is here. The answer was simple: poker. — You all came to beat me? — Anna asked calmly. The boys nodded. — Fine, — she smirked. — But you can’t take Kamila. She’s not a wager. And then Ethery Georgievna appeared in the doorway. — Well, boys, — she said sweetly. — Ready to play? An hour later, they lost everything. — And now, — Tutberidze said calmly, — you’re all going to chop wood. As a class. — But Valieva has extra lessons, — Anna cautiously pointed out. — Annushka, — Ethery smiled. — You’re coming too. — Why? — Who else will supervise the punished? Anna sighed. Of course. And, glancing at Kamila, thought that even in this madhouse, she would still remain. Because someone has to. The elm tree, also known as the Zelkova. Cherner and Semenenko stood by the elm. It was huge—about six meters tall, with a thick, twisted trunk and a broad crown, as if the tree had grown used to surviving in any condition over the decades and now simply refused to die. Gleichenhaus looked at it, then at Ethery Georgievna. — Is this the very tree? Tutberidze nodded shortly and, without saying a word, turned and left them alone with the problem. Cherner grunted, lit a cigarette, and said as if in passing: — This is an elm. A weed tree. My friend Kostya Ramazanov tried to cut down a similar one with a chainsaw. The outcome—he managed to wrap the chain around his leg, broke the saw, and miraculously didn’t tear his tendons. Alina Zagitova turned to him, clearly about to ask something… …when her face suddenly went pale. — A bag, — Cherner said calmly, handing over a plastic one. Zagitova immediately threw up. — Lina, — Semenenko smirked, — imagine: a maniac comes to school, bloody carnage, and you have to save the students. And you feel sick. How are you going to save them? — Well, Anya Shcherbakova could do it, — added Cherner. — She would just kick him out. — Or terrorists, — continued Zhenya. — Just like in Beslan. You’d be flustered. Zagitova retched harder. — You idiots! — Medvedeva stormed in. — What are you doing?! The men laughed and stepped aside. A few minutes later, Cherner returned, already with a cigarette, and said in a calm, businesslike tone: — I need a forklift. Two or three chainsaws. Scaffolding. A good cable. And another fool like me. He listed as if ordering coffee. — If it works out—great. If not, we’ll leave it. It’s dangerous, but it’s worth a try. Meanwhile, Semenenko climbed up the elm amidst the shocked gazes of the girls, secured a rope to a sturdy branch, and came down. They secured the cable to the forklift. Gleichenhaus looked nervously at the tension. — Maybe we should back off? — he said. — If the cable snaps… Cherner exhaled smoke. — Then someone will get hit in the face. So let’s all step back about fifteen meters. Dudakov grabbed an axe and crossed himself: — Well, brothers… with God’s help. The girls moved away. Kostornaia was tied to Zagitova to prevent her from rushing to help. Anna kept Kamila close to her—she had gotten too unlucky too often. She placed a construction helmet on the girl’s head. — Just stay close, — Anna said softly. The men pulled the cable. The forklift was spinning its wheels. The elm withstood. — LET’S GO! — Gleichenhaus shouted. — PULL! — Makaro yelled. Someone cursed, someone laughed, someone pulled silently. And then— — THE CABLE IS SNAPPING! — Dudakov yelled. — EVERYONE RUN! People scrambled to get away. There was a sharp crack— and a piece of the cable, like a whip, flew back. — DUCK! — Ignatov yelled. The boys were lucky. The girls were not. A scream erupted from Medvedeva. Zagitova’s cry: — MOMMY! And Anna’s voice, torn with horror: — VALIEVA! Kamila collapsed. Anna fell to her knees beside her, tearing off the helmet, shaking the girl by her shoulders. — Kami! Kamila! Wake up! There was no response. Cherner, watching this, exhaled through his teeth: — What the hell… Why does this family always attract construction debris? Anna heard nothing. She was entirely focused on Kamila—cold fingers, uneven breaths, emptiness in her gaze. — Please… — she whispered. — Please… Inside Kamila Darkness. And light. He stood before her—enormous, in golden armor, as if forged from the sun. Thousands of voices echoed simultaneously. — Rise, niece of Dorn. — Flesh and blood of Terra’s Praetorian, rise. — Your duty is unfulfilled. Gold. Power. The command. Kamila burst upwards. She gasped sharply, struggling for air. Anna immediately held her close, hugging her tightly as if afraid to let go even for a second. — I knew it… — she exhaled. — I knew you were alive… You scared me so much… Cherner watched them and saw. Not with his eyes. But with something deeper. The golden aura. Interwoven. Whole. — The Great Golden Throne… — he whispered to himself. — The Emperor is protecting. Gleichenhaus looked at the cut cable. — Damn… it’s broken. Cherner was already pulling out his phone. — Daniil Markovich, — he said calmly. — I’ll call my guys. We’ll cut down this elm anyway. And Anna was still holding Kamila, not letting her go. At that moment, she knew one thing for sure: she would never allow that girl to fall alone again. The elm tree, also known as Zelkova, must be stopped at any cost. Dima spoke on the phone, stepping aside, but still loud enough for those nearby to hear. — Sergey, hi. We have work—a need to cut down an elm. Thick. Six meters in girth. What do you say? The pause was short. — Agreed, — Sergey replied. — But doing it alone isn’t an option. Do you need anyone else? — Misha and Kostya are needed, — Dima said calmly. — Roger. He hung up the call. On the couch nearby sat Misha Kostorny—in work clothes, with a mug of coffee and cookies. Hearing the conversation, he laughed and waved. — I already went to Slevtsov. I told him I needed to leave work. He said they won’t fumigate the grain today, so I’m free. We can go. At that moment, the door to the utility room swung open. — Open up for the foreman! — Kostya yelled. — The foreman is coming! Pour me some coffee, or I’ll deal with you! Misha, without getting up, turned his head. — Uzbek, you’ve misunderstood something and got it mixed up. Do you even know where you are? Kostya snorted but entered, slamming the door. An hour later, Sergey, Misha, and Kostya were already standing in the schoolyard. Dima led them to the elm. — Here it is — he said. — A beauty, the rascal. Mikhail surveyed the tree and immediately asked: — What’s the price? — Fishing lures and a new spinning rod. Brand new. Very good. Misha thought for precisely a second. — Deal. Just then, Alena Kostornaia dashed up to him. — Uncle Misha! Hi! He smiled, squatted down, and hugged her. — Hi, little bandit. Are you studying well? Not hitting anyone? — All’s well, Uncle Misha. I’m doing well in school. A little farther away, Anna Stanislavovna looked at Konstantin Ramazanov. — Do you need anything? He shook his head negatively. Kamila, standing nearby, quietly asked: — What’s your name? — Konstantin Valeryevich Ramazanov. She nodded, but inside something pierced. Ramazanov… Why does that surname sound familiar? The thought flashed and faded. When she lifted her gaze, the man was already walking away. At that time, Anna was speaking with Zhenya and Alina, absently stroking Kamila’s hair, as if checking—was she there, alive, nearby. Laughter drifted from the men. — And then Kostya takes and throws an axe at me! — Sergey was saying. — Rubaen, drag your butt here, — Misha barked. — We’re going to work! — You’ll work, Tajik, — Kostya waved him off. — I’m the foreman. — Have you said everything? — Misha grunted. — Then listen to this poem. We have a good foreman, We have one foreman. Let’s gather as a team — And give him a beating. Shcherbakova, Medvedeva, and Zagitova exchanged glances. The interaction between Kostya Ramazanov and Misha Kostorny was disturbingly similar to how Kamila and Alena interacted. — So, Mikhusik, — Dima said, — can you manage? — I can manage. Misha took off his jacket, grabbed the chainsaw, popped a cigarette in his mouth, and, without putting on protective glasses, began to saw. — Well, students, — Sergey added, starting his saw, — watch how professionals work. Medvedeva’s heart sank. — This is a terrible example… Shcherbakova immediately took the girls aside and quietly yet firmly delivered a mini-lecture on safety, pointing out what should not be done at all. Meanwhile, Dima was helping Misha. They tightened the new cable. The tree creaked. Minutes later, there was a loud crack. The elm fell. — Done, — Dima said, raising the axe. — Note that elm wood burns poorly. Lots of smoke, hard to chop. But if dried—it makes excellent firewood. — Firewood always comes in handy, — Sergey nodded. Misha was already cutting the trunk and tossing prime logs into his "Niva" with a trailer. Even Gleichenhaus joined in—silently, with an axe. When everything was cleared, only leaves and thin branches remained. The girls, along with Shcherbakova, Zagitova, and Medvedeva, gathered the foliage, while the debris was loaded into the trailer. Tutberidze was satisfied. — And I remind you, — she said to Daniil Markovich, — there are still three poplars, two elms, an oak, three spruces, and a maple in the yard. They don’t fit the landscape. All of them were cut down. Later, Eteri Georgievna praised each and allowed them to go on a hike. Kamila stood at the exit and suddenly saw Konstantin Ramazanov leaving again. He looked remarkably like her father. She ran after him. — Valieva! — Anna Stanislavovna called out. — Where are you going? Kamila stopped, biting her lip. — Did you see something? — Yes… — she whispered. — But I can’t show it. Anna embraced her without asking more questions. She led Kamila back to school, fed her—because the girl still couldn’t eat properly. And only one thing weighed on Anna’s mind: the look in Kamila’s eyes—as if she had seen the past again, one that shouldn't have caught up to her."