eternities:nikolai_ivanovich_arsenyev [APERIS]

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====== Laplace's Demon ======
//28 April, Moscow//


“Mr Bortnik… You wished to speak with me?”

"Sir, I'm willing to stake my name on it! I can testify to Artyom's character. He has no reason to lie to you, and-and Liu Lian has always been loyal and---"

“It’s true that I remain skeptical of the //Sea Dragon//, but…”

"Y-yes. Yes, sir. I understand."

----


//9 May, Moscow//

The headline pops up on Nikolai's screen:
> US Navy Deploys to Antarctica

Shortly after, he gets an internal message from SPRHD:
> The Council of Restoration is mobilising regarding the containment and capture of the Leviathan.

The screen dims.
He tells himself he has to leave. 

Nikolai reviews the cargo manifest as he smuggles in an extra crate of vodka among the JCP-approved supplies for Unit 871. Artyom would appreciate it. He bites the tip of his fountain pen, then slips a note, hidden behind a cipher on a thin fold of onion-skin, into the barrel.

> I’ve left the organisation behind. You should too. Go now.

After some thought, he adds a significant roll of unmarked currency. When Artyom is about to leave for APERIS, Nikolai drops the pen into his jacket pocket as he fixes his collar. 


----


//17 May, St. Petersburg//

On Nikolai's office computer is an email draft:
>**Re: APERIS Report - 17/05/2011**
>Dear Artyom:
>I have received your latest report regarding the ANCOM fleet destruction...
>
>Your <del>dearest</del> friend,
>Nikolai I. A.

Nikolai looks around the room one last time. He presses send, then deletes the entire email account. He locks the archive door behind him and picks up his cabin bag. His flight leaves tomorrow from Moscow.

He tells himself he has to leave.

----

//01 June, Istanbul//

In a YahooChat thread titled //does anyone see SCL to PUQ flight spiral?//, Nikolai types:
> royalimaginations: either the data is wrong, or the plane passed near a flock of birds. Birds spiral when they tighten into formation. I have a theory...

He stares at it for a while, then deletes some, looks up at the sky.
> royalimaginations: either the data is wrong or

He wonders whether he's forgotten something. Then he remembers it's the start of the month. He should write a letter greeting his best friend:

> My dearest friend, 
> 
> How are you?
> 
> I hope this letter finds you in good health, and your days have been happy---


----

//20 June, Moscow//

Nikolai's invited to take on some cataloguing work at the Moscow Museum of Modern Art (MMOMA), for a temporary exhibition on the ontological nature of time, before he leaves for St. Petersburg to begin his position as Special Consultant for Archival Affairs (SCAA) of JCP. 

The plane lands. He takes the train into the city, distracted, carrying his cabin bag. By the time he looks up, he's walking past the gates of Vagankovo Cemetery. 

A fresh headstone has been recently planted. The earth before it is undisturbed---there is no grave. It is plain grey. The inscription reads:

> Artyom Vladislavslevky

There is no epitaph.

Nikolai sees a young man standing before the grave. He is thin and bony, his dark hair newly cut. An erudite and disciplined man---Nikolai can tell from the crisp line of his coat, the newly ironed shirt, and the polished shoes. In his hands, a bouquet of fresh flowers, which he lays at the foot of the stone. For no reason he can name, Nikolai is suddenly certain they must've known each other. 

Speaking of, Nikolai can't think of a single reason why he's here. Yet a strange grief floods him, as though he has forgotten something that was once very, very important.