I was awakened by a surprised, offended cry of some girl.

- So this damn contract with the institute for two years ?! – lamented the girl almost in hysterics.

I opened my eyes and… finally woke up. The place was unfamiliar. A dark room littered with bags of cement and old furniture. It took me a few seconds to orient myself and remember where I was - some kind of hangar or warehouse, where I was taken straight from the police station in a car with opaque windows. Frankly, I did not even know how long we were driving and in which direction, as I immediately fell asleep in the car. I only remembered that in the end I was pushed aside, taken to this room and told to “wait for the rest of the group”.

My body was numb and aching - after all, I fell asleep, perched in some incredible position on a hard, uncomfortable bench, which is usually placed in the waiting rooms of bus stations. Handles are also specially made on them between the seats so that the homeless cannot spend the night. But during the day I was so tired that somehow I still managed to place my limbs and lie down. That's just an attempt to move led to a sharp pain in a stiff leg.

– Oh, our yogi woke up! greeted my awakening with cheerful laughter.

Somehow I got out of the shop that had turned into a trap, I straightened up and turned to my neighbors. Three young guys and two girls, the whole group is about my age. Also dropped out gamer students recruited to work at a mysterious institute?

Perhaps so, although one of the girls did not fit into the image of an avid gamer at all. She immediately attracted my attention - a bright long-legged blonde with a beautiful doll-like face, a stunning chiseled female figure and ... a sly attentive look that immediately crossed out the emerging image of a naive fool and betrayed the high intelligence of the hostess. Stylish expensive dress and shoes, couturier handbag, expensive earrings with emeralds. Well, this luxurious beauty did not look like a person for whom virtual worlds replaced reality.

The other girl, as if in contrast to the first, was completely inconspicuous: short, dark-haired and modestly dressed, with thick glasses on her nose, a kind of nondescript classic "nerd".

- Greetings to the whole honest company! I cheerfully greeted the assembled team. Did I miss something interesting? Did someone say something about a two-year contract?

“Yes, Arthur claims,” the “nerd” pointed to a long-haired, hippy-looking guy with an earring in his left ear, “that the dean’s office of the institute gave him a two-year contract to sign.

- Exactly! - this "hippie" readily confirmed, dressed in torn jeans and a dark turtleneck with the emblem of the Pink Floyd group. - Today I was expelled from the institute from the third year. There is a long story, there really was something for it. But I tried to fight and even wrote a petition addressed to the dean, stating that I understood everything and realized that this would not happen again and all that ... But the infection, his deputy put a resolution that first I had to confirm the seriousness of my intentions to improve - to work out a full contract in my specialty at a paramilitary institute near Moscow , and only after that I will be restored. And he gave me a contract to sign, in which it was written in black and white about two years.

The hippie finished his emotional speech, lowered his head and fell silent. The others were also silent and stared at me openly.

– Who are you? Also an expelled student, like the rest of us? - could not stand the short-haired guy squatting on his haunches of the very, that it is, "bydlovat" look - a black leather jacket, sweatpants, sneakers on a bare leg, a cap on his head. To complete the picture of the classic "gopnik", he only lacked a black eye and a crumpled cigarette in his mouth.

I had nothing to hide, so I honestly gave my name and told how I was expelled from the Faculty of Geology of Moscow State University for participating in a commercial network computer tournament instead of classes.

“Actually, like all of us,” that quiet nerd smiled bitterly. – While you were sleeping, we already managed to get to know each other and found out that the participants of the same online tournament gathered here. And we all made it to the final. What a shame, because I almost reached the very end of the round with my archer, I was one of the four surviving participants. A little unlucky - I missed a couple of times, and the "hand-to-hand" shredded me ...

“So it was necessary to shoot at the legs of the ogre and retreat step by step, preventing him from approaching,” I gave belated advice, to which the girl exclaimed in amazement:

- So it was you, Cyril ?! It was your ogre who killed me, and then won in the final! You must have made a lot of money, admit it!

“Uh-huh, how ...” I was embarrassed for some reason and looked down at the floor. - He won to win, but he didn’t get a penny. I had just removed the helmet from my head and did not even have time to move away from the computer, as the police twisted me.

Here, a previously silent, muscular guy of Caucasian appearance, who had previously tried to revive his mobile phone to no avail, interjected into our conversation.

- As for the tournament, I can tell you for sure - it was the organizers themselves who called the police! Only they knew who was playing from which IP address. So they handed over everyone to the cops so as not to pay the winnings. Decided to pocket all the money, bitches!

The same view was shared by all those present. The organizers of the tournament poured swearing and curses. I was indignant louder than anyone, so that no one would suspect me of having connections with these mysterious swindlers-organizers. Finally, everyone spoke and fell silent. I took advantage of the pause and somewhat belatedly asked the audience to introduce themselves.

When asked about her name, the blonde called herself “Irishka from the First Honey” and said that she did not regret her expulsion at all, because “she can’t stand the sight of blood, and in general it was a stupid initiative of parents to shove their daughter into medicine.” The second girl called herself Masha and, missing details, said that she was a graduate student of one of the Moscow technical universities and was even glad that many years of torture with constant lack of money, humiliation with knocking out benefits and places in a hostel was finally over.

"Gopnik" reluctantly squeezed out through his teeth that his name is Denis, and the rest "we do not need to know, since this is already in the past." The Caucasian turned out to be more open. He gave his name - Imran - and said that he was a master of sports in sambo. Imran graduated from the Institute of Physical Education last year, even with a red diploma, but so far he has not been in a hurry to return to his native Dagestan, continuing by hook or by crook to live in a Moscow student hostel among friends and hope for a lucky ticket in life.

- Friends promised a good job in Moscow, but something didn’t work out for them, - he did not go into details of the frustrated plans.

Imran poked his fingers at his phone for another minute, after which he put it in his pocket with the words:

“Cells don’t pick up a damn thing here! That damn tin roof must be shielding.

“And the roof, too,” a mocking voice was heard from somewhere in the darkness. - But in general, there is a military facility here, and "jammers" are working.

Like everyone else, I turned around at the voice and saw a middle-aged, strong-looking man in dark blue overalls. On the sleeve of the newcomer was an unusual emblem - inside a white circle a Greek crested golden helmet and an ornate curly inscription: "Second Legion". I didn’t notice this man’s weapon, but for some reason, military bearing and considerable military experience were immediately guessed.

Without giving us even a few seconds to think about what was said, the newcomer pointed with his hand somewhere into the dark distance of the hangar:

“Go that way into the dark. In the very corner you will see a stack of folded slate sheets. Move the slate and the stairs down will open. Get down into the tunnel and go to the territory of the dome. The rest of the rookie groups have already arrived, they will soon be sent for the initial briefing, as well as you. And since the meeting room in our dome area is quite small, then do not linger if you do not want to stand for several hours while receiving the necessary introductory information.

***

We immediately found the slate. There were twenty sheets folded in this pile, and the load seemed simply unbearable. But this whole pack obediently moved from the light dot, driven by some kind of hidden mechanism. Under the slate, a round hatch was found and brackets going down into the darkness. Imran climbed first and soon shouted that he had found a switch on the wall. Indeed, a second later, a light came on from below, and it became clear to everyone that the staircase was actually quite short.

But illuminated by rare dim lamps, the tunnel seemed endless to us. We walked for a long time along the gray concrete walls without any inscriptions, examining the pipes and wiring harnesses running along the floor. Several times our group was blocked by metal doors, but they opened quite noiselessly as soon as we got closer. Like everyone else, with involuntary respect, I estimated the thickness of these doors - each twenty-five centimeters, or even all thirty strong safe metal. Finally, behind another such door, a staircase was found upstairs.

While I blinked my eyes, getting used to the bright light in a small room, a strong guard standing near the metal frame, again in a blue uniform with the emblem of the Second Legion, ordered everyone to put documents, mobile phones, wallets, keys and other items on the table.

“Now you won’t need them for a long time,” this guy “reassured” us, and at these words his partner, who was standing a little further away, laughed for some reason.

First in line, "Irishka from the First Medical" unexpectedly blushed deeply and resisted for a long time, not wanting to show others the contents of her handbag. What could be so compromising there, I did not understand, since the guards nevertheless asked the others to move away so as not to embarrass the girl.

But now it was my turn, and I, too, had to empty my pockets. Passport. Student card, no longer valid after being expelled from the university. A handful of little things. Unopened pack of condoms. The keys to the former dorm room. Then it was the turn of the wallet and plastic cards with all the savings ... I was forced to go through a magnetic frame, then quickly and professionally searched. After that, after making sure that I did not hide anything, the guard of all things returned me only a pack of condoms. The rest I folded into a large transparent plastic bag and sealed it with a special device, which are used at the entrance to large hypermarkets or airport terminals.

“I don’t even know if this is a good sign for you or a bad one,” Denis, who was next in line, commented with malice on such a selective return of part of the property to me.

“Don’t delay the others, go further into the dome!” Remember, your number is one thousand four hundred and seventy! - the military hurried me, attaching a tag with a number to the bag with my things.

Prior to this, the "nerd" Masha received the number 1469th, and the "hippie" Arthur 1468th. It turned out that the numbering here was in order. But then it turned out that almost one and a half thousand people were already working in this mysterious “dome”. The scope was impressive. It was supposed to be a very, very serious project!

The security guard slipped the package with my things through the window in the wall, and someone's hands immediately took it away. I moved further down the corridor, pronouncing the number to myself and trying to remember it well: “One thousand four hundred and seventy”!