The guys from his class gathered at Ivan’s place. His room was at the end of the left wing and thanks to that, they could revel around without worrying to disturb the peace in the dorm. Mostly the M-generation members were present. Everyone came with a salad or other snacks, Sandro brought pastries, and Josh’s task, as it turned out, was to provide a tonic.

“Hey guys, I'm sorry, I was forced to come, thus, I’ll be your sponger today,” Chris joked. “Although, I can go and get granola.”

“Hi,” Ivan held out his hand to greet Chris. “Sit wherever you like and do not worry we’ve got enough snacks.

“Ah, Vanya, listen,” Chris followed the owner of the room; trying to be useful, he picked up a couple of dishes to take out to the company. “When can I get a haircut?”

Ivan gave him a careful look, estimating, probably, the amount of work. He was a black-haired young man with a pleasant low timbre. He was larger than Chris was and was in his final year. Always calm and confident, never talked a lot; it was nice to be around him. He didn’t have a permanent partner but never stayed alone for a long period of time. As a hobby, he cut hair manually.

“And what exactly do you want?” He asked phlegmatically, placing the dishes he carried on a low table in front of the sofa.

“Just cut everything. It’s getting really hot and messy style becomes annoying.”

Everybody was making themselves comfortable on the sofa and everywhere around. Some already had joysticks in their hands; the company split into players and watchers.

“Well, no difference for me, I can cut it now.”

“Yeah, great.”

Chris helped Ivan set the chair in the right place, sat down as soon as he received the command, and reclined his head back. The brunette rummaged in the inbuilt drawers, took out the tools, filled the spray bottle, and turned the Robo-cleaner on. He repositioned the chair a little, lowering it, then sprayed water on Chris’s hair and set to work.

The scissors clicked rhythmically over the ears, involuntarily lulling, despite the hubbub coming from the sofa; someone was losing there, someone was rejoicing. Chris tried not to disconnect, so he decided it was better to chat a bit.

“Vanya, you’re graduating in winter, right?”

“Yes.”

“And then?”

“Graduate school, of course.”

“Of course?”

“I had some plans for practice in the mainland, but, you know, the Phase. This is the best thing that could happen to a surgical student.”

“Ah. Yes, I agree. So, you’ll transfer to the seventh building team right after graduation?”

“In fact, I already have. They enrolled all those who stay for post-grad. And later will involve additional staff to the perinatal house after final exams; they want the top excellence students. Others will go to the fifth – the medical center, or, well where they planned to work and practice outside the Biosphere.”

Chris sighed. Ivan moved forward to work on the front strands, so Chris had to shut up so as not to eat the cuts-off. Nevertheless, as soon as the opportunity appeared, Chris asked again:

“Listen, how many hours of practical training do you have? How are they calculated?” He asked, hoping to get any information about how much he is not suitable for working on the Phase-II. “What do you do when you’re not attending the lectures and not in the laboratory?”

“Practice at the medical unit. They divided us into subgroups and assigned to specialists. You can say this is a truncated internship for three hours a day, approximately.”

“And what is this internship?” Chris asked.

“You come in the morning, hand over the report you made on yesterday’s patients, check-ups and stuff. The supervisor announces the task for the day, for example, today we were at the reception, and my partner and I were assigned for dermatoscopy. But it's too easy if you ask me. Yeah, and tomorrow we have to report if we examined someone with something suspicious or malicious, or just a harmless type of nevi. The supervisor will have to check everything,” Ivan thought for a few seconds, scratching his chin. “Frankly, I think they check right after our shift ... or even before they assign us to do the check-ups. Sometimes we assisted during the moles, adenoids removal, and hernias surgeries. They don’t really allow us to actively participate in abdominal operations, only to monitor, to be on hand, and carefully observe the surgeon's work, in order to later give quick tests for us to see how attentive to the details we are, to the processes that are not described in the textbooks. You wanna leave the bangs here?”

“What? Oh, no, they get into my eyes.”

After a conversation with Ivan, Chris sat sulking beyond belief, his eyes glued to the bottom of the glass he hardly even drank from. The reality wasn’t merciful, Erzketau was right – he has nothing to do in the seventh building team so far. It turns out that the idea that suddenly visited him this afternoon is probably the only way out to crack the zirka and break the wall. How adventurous could the greenie be? Still, what if Chris overestimated his capabilities too much, and even taking this crazy step won’t be able to show his potential in the end? What if he’s incapable to justify Shirokawa’s trust?

“Hey, are you okay?” Someone shook Chris’s shoulder, pulling out of reverie. Sandro crouched beside him, looking worriedly at his ex.

“I'm fine, as always,” Chris answered in a lifeless voice.

“Yeah, yeah, we know that we’ve been there already,” the blondie giggled. “So what happened?”

“I ... I fear that I have set the plank too high and this time I will not be able to jump above my head,” Chris expressed the thought that was swirling in his head after a short silence, the thought that prevented him from enjoying the fun with everyone here.

He was so carried away by this new challenge, new information about his body, about the experiment, all his decisions, the upcoming surgery, this sudden impulse to be one of those who will see the first implantations with their own eyes, and even the pivotal quest with the “final boss”! A whole adventure suddenly broke into his life, so quickly and vividly that he completely ceased to control the situation, letting it evolve, never stopped to think, where it is going. However, he ought to stop and just think it over like a rational adult and a sane scientist. Was he doing the right thing and was it worth it?

“Hmm ... if you worry that much, then this is something really important for you,” Sandro said thoughtfully. “I think you can do it,” he decided joyfully.

Chris grinned and shook his head as if wanting to say: “You’re never changing.”

“But, hey, Chris, who told you that you have to jump over your head?” He asked suddenly seriously. “Who told you it was your obligation? What’s gonna happen if you can’t? Will someone die or get sick? Tell me, what will happen if you won’t reach the marker that you set for yourself? Will you become worse? I think you can do it.” He covered Chris’s palm with his and squeezed it lightly. “But even if not, you will not stop being the Chris whom we all know and love.”

Chris looked at Sandro, blinking dumbfounded and not believing that he’s not dreaming and the person sitting in front of him is Sandro he knows. When did he learn to generate such deep thoughts?

“Someone definitely influences you highly positively I’d say,” Chris finally said in response.

“You think so?” The young man grinned mysteriously, then suddenly grabbed Chris by the chin, smacked his lips briefly, and turned their faces in the direction of the kitchen island. “Who might that be,” he sang, and Chris fixed his gaze on the very owner of the apartment, who stands there with his eyes narrowed at them. “You know,” Sandro said, letting Chris go, “I couldn’t even think that there can be someone… anyone better than you in bed,” he cocked his head looking playful, “Come visit us when you fix your asceticism. I’ll ask him to give you a couple of lessons,” Sandro licked his lips with his tongue slowly, not breaking the eye contact with Ivan, who repeated his movement and beckoned with his finger. Sandro got up, swam across the room, climbed on Ivan’s lap, and hid their further wordless communication with a thick mane of his curly fair hair.

¹ tonic – 7-9% of alcohol – this is the maximum that can be drunk; strong alcohol is prohibited by the Coalition for the manufacture, sale, and consumption.