She sits sideways to the light in an old Khrushchev-era armchair. Outside the window, there is an extraordinary silence. And nothing else. Only the sun. It falls on long black strands of hair cascading below her shoulders, gleaming in her green eyes. She still wears a leather jacket and a torn T-shirt stained with dried blood. But lower down, slightly following the line of her former hips, the human body smoothly transitions into a massive, snake-like tail stretching about seven meters long.
"Am I dead?"
The girl's voice is slightly muffled. But her hands rest loosely on the cracked polished armrests. I notice a barely visible black thread twisting beneath her skin. Her body has accepted the rhizome. Or perhaps she has taken on a new host. I don't know which is more accurate.
"No. Death is the last thing you need to fear now."
She looks at herself again, frightened, tentatively tries to move, sending a gentle ripple through her elongated torso. Soon she will learn how to use it. It's much easier than walking. But from her questioning glance directed at me, I understand that explanations are needed.
"You lost your legs. Had to improvise. Not satisfied?"
"No, I... Just... Unusual."
"My name isn't Ksenia, is it?" I try to lighten the mood.
"No... Agnia."
"Again, I got it wrong. What's going on here..."
"What?"
"Nothing. Just... Something like that..."
Feeling awkward, I look away. I realize I've completely unlearned how to communicate with people. I search for a long time for something to look at. Her eyes. Her hands. The window. Again, her eyes.
"Agnia means "lamb" in Latin. Or "innocent victim" in Greek."
"In Latin? Are you a doctor?"
"Something like that... I heal people," I smile involuntarily.
"Wait. I recognize you! You're that... Phenomenon. Oh my God..."
I hope she won't ask for an autograph. I stand up, peek out into the corridor, where through the broken wall between high-rise buildings, one can see the destroyed suburbs and a piece of the horizon. On the highway, there is noticeable slow-moving traffic. Several tanks supported by motorized infantry are preparing to enter the city. The enemy has retreated. Now we begin clearing the western outskirts of those who didn't manage to escape. Well, then we'll have to go there too.
"And do you only kill monkeys?" the girl asks curiously.
"Just eat them."
"They say it's something personal to you... Like revenge. Right? Like your family was killed..."
"No..."
"A girl?"
"No one was killed..."
I hope this is a reaction to stress. But it seems she just likes chatting.
"If you don't want to talk, don't," Agnia says, sounding slightly offended. Perhaps she thought she'd find a more talkative companion in me.
"I'm telling you... I just eat. That's my job. Or... A way of existence," I cast an assessing glance at the creature sitting in the chair. "We should go. Try standing up."
Agnia pushes herself up with her hands against the armrests. She's not yet sure she can handle her new bioform. She carefully leans on her tail but still holds onto the chair with her hands, balancing herself as she straightens up.
"It's funny... Like walking on your back... Which is below your ass."
Dragging the rug and pieces of torn wallpaper behind her, she crawls out into the corridor after me, grabbing onto the doorframe, afraid of losing her balance.
"I used to want to sign up for belly dancing..."
"That's valuable information. Hurry up. We'd better get out before the troops arrive."
The stairwells are difficult, although she still barely lets go of the railings. We descend, cross the hall littered with sparkling fragments of broken mirrors. The thick snake skin, reinforced with horny scales, slides smoothly over them without any damage. Dusty air fills with sunlight glints, playing with rays of colored light.
"And who's there? Ours? Or not ours?"
"Our people."
"So why...?"
I catch her puzzled look.
"They're just people. They might be insufficiently prepared or poorly informed. They might get nervous. Someone might accidentally shoot, and I'll have to defend myself... When reflexes kick in, I just turn into..."
"I saw it. On videos. Scary as hell. But cool! That's exactly what we need to do with these monkeys! They ran wild... Now they've run themselves into the ground! Pots, damn it!"
"Talking like that is wrong. First of all, they're still people. Second, hatred is an emotion. Emotions consume energy. And we don't need to waste energy. We just need to eat."
She doesn't listen to me.
"Do you know what they did to my brother?! They took him to the basement and tortured him there. Then they threw his dead body out. When we found the body... He was all cut up. They peeled his skin off alive with a knife, can you believe it?! Bastards... They thought he was from the militia. But he just wore military-style pants and a jacket. He had no other clothes. He was just a student. Assholes... We need to kill them all, damn it! If I could, I'd tear them apart right there, alive..."
I see how sharply my Galatea has changed. Her fists are clenched. Veins bulge on her temples. Rhizomes twist beneath her skin, growing through her hair follicles, turning her entire black mane into a tangle of thin, writhing snakes.
Yes, she can. Now she can... After a few more seconds, the burst of anger quickly subsides. Finding no suitable prey nearby, the rhizome suppresses aggression. Agnia sighs with relief.
"This is strange... Earlier, when I remembered all this horror, I cried every time. But now... Anger and suddenly... Emptiness."
"That's normal. I told you... Anger, hatred, and fear are companions of weakness. They carry destruction and chaos. But I am calmness, order, and strength. And now you are too."
She stares silently into my eyes for a long time.
"Where were you all these eight years?"
"I was sick..."