Somewhere among the houses on the twenty-sixth floor was a room. There were no dreams of laughter, and the food seemed insipid, and it immediately went rotten because of the rancid atmosphere. Anya voluntarily enclosed herself in this dark box. And in theory, it was she who went mad first after the death of her sister.

At first, the girl lay on the bed like a corpse. A plastic tube was sticking out of her mouth, and a metal VR hoop was put on her head.

But in an instant, the deathly silence was broken by a deep sigh. Convulsively, Anya pulled off the rim and pulled out a slippery pipe. The computer beside her bed made a nasty squeak and went out, and only the neon sign "Happy New Year 2077!" began to illuminate the shabby headset.

A cute holographic assistant in the form of a 90s magical girl appeared on the bedside table and said in a thin voice, "You have exceeded the limit of being in Virtual Reality. Within an hour, you may experience disorientation, nausea, chills, memory loss, dizziness ... "

For the first time in a long time, Anya looked at the room with her own eyes, felt how cold it was in it. The cramp immediately made the recluse double over, but in her empty stomach there was only mucus.

"God, how long have I not changed the food package?!"

"If the condition worsens, see a doctor."

By touch, Anya found the edge of the bed, and forced her murdered body to collapse to the floor. Something snapped and a sickening smell swept through the room. The packets of the biosoluble stuff she'd been eating for the past six months had burst under her weight.

Fear ran its thin, icy fingers down Anya's throat, every now and then, trying to cling to him and squeeze the last breath out of him. Her head was pounding like hell.

Anya tried to get on her feet, but they betrayed her. Left, right, back, front: she couldn't tell the difference between them. In this state, it was even hard to think about the very concept of direction.

With difficulty, the girl reached for her laptop. Naughty fingers did not want to dial the right numbers. Another sad consequence of the influence of virtual reality on the brain. With trembling hands, Anna managed to enter the details of her sister's bracelet on the third attempt. A green line flickered across the screen, trembling to the beat of Maria's heart.

"She is still alive" - ​​a feeling of incredible joy echoed in Anya's chest.

The girl quickly entered the internal analytics. The bright abbreviation "AL" floated across the screen, uploading the information collected over the past half hour. The data that the computer output was terrible.

Masha was supposed to die in two hours. The temperature was nowhere below, and the damage was too severe. Anya slowly turned her gaze to the street. Even through the double-glazed window one could hear the wind howling as it slid between the gloomy towers. Only a fool would go there alone.

"Her life will be cut short on New Year's Eve if I stay here," flashed through the girl's head. It was unthinkable for her to leave Mary alone ... next to that person.

"I will save you, sister. This time I will save you. Just wait for me, Anya whispered to herself.

The almost discharged phone that rested under the pillow showed signs of life. The melody of the call echoed painfully in Anna's head, causing even more suffering. However, she could not reset the number that appeared on the screen.

"God, you finally answered!" Everything is fine? A painfully familiar voice sounded through the tiny speaker.

— Where are you? G-where the hell, are you? Are you with Masha? her voice trembled.

- That's what you need to ask. They told me that something happened to you and Masha went to you. I'm on my way. Are you okay?

"Yes... I'm fine. - Pasha ... You must return! Urgently! Masha can not be left there! Anya screamed so loudly that her lungs emptied. Someone wants to kill her. I need to save Masha.

"Save Masha" - these two words were spinning in her head like a crazy top.

- Are you delirious? You have the voice of a dying animal! Do you think I'll leave you like this?

But Anya did not even listen to him. She found one hundred and one reasons why her health was not as important as her sister's.

She has a few hours left, but I don't think all is lost. We can save her. It's happening again... again... oh my God... I'll go look for her...

- Are you crazy?! You will fall into a blizzard!

Anya did not even have time to reset the call - the phone itself sat down. Trying to revive him and get through to anyone else at that damned party was useless. She needed to hurry.

The atrophied muscles ache terribly, but she managed to crawl into the corridor. The light was too bright for eyes accustomed to twilight. Through tears and pain, everything around turned into a large colored spot.

There, at last, Anya was able to stand up and put on at least some clothes. From the closet, she took out a dusty down jacket. It was scarlet, as if covered in blood. She felt sick again, but only this was left of her things.

The girl then tried to find some of her papers in the drawers by the door. It turned out that all the photographs of Masha that used to hang throughout the apartment were put there. Still, how beautiful Mary was. She radiated infinite warmth as her smile dimpled her cheek. That is how these photographs remember her. Sadly, Anya pushed aside a thick stack of photo frames. Below them was a small safe. Anna's father preferred mechanical classics: there was no fingerprint scanner on the lock.

Setting her and Masha's date of birth as a password was in the spirit of her father. Despite his stern appearance, he remained a naive and rather sentimental man. His daughters adored him for it. A lump rolled up in Anna's throat.

In the safe was my father's signature revolver. Firearms have always been a favorite gift for police officers. Anya knew that this thing could be useful in tracking down that criminal, but this weapon could bring big problems, especially if you are not its owner.

Fear of the future still could not leave her. She needed something to protect her sister. The weapon weighed much heavier than she expected. Anya put the gun in her jacket pocket.

As soon as she took up arms,the keys rattled and the front door opened a crack. A short plump woman entered the apartment. It seemed that Anya had not seen her for an eternity. She definitely looked better than months ago. Or maybe the frost on the street did this miracle, making her cheeks peach. Last time, Anya's mother's face was paler than porcelain from tears.

"Mom..." Anya squeezed herself out.

Her mother raised her head sharply. The rustling of the package and the sound of falling tangerines broke the deathly silence. Bright orange fruit scattered all over the room.

- Anechka ... Is that you? - from this question, the back of the ungrateful daughter was covered with goosebumps. Anya could not even imagine what she had become over these months. Surely her hair was matted and her eyes were too big for her emaciated face. In what a pitiful guise she appeared before such an important person.

— I-I brought tangerines. the woman said, and Anya took a step back. "Don't be afraid, I won't cry, Anechka...

Her own mother talked to her like a wild animal. She grabbed her daughter by the sleeve of her greasy jacket and looked hopefully into Anya's very soul.

- Let Mashenka also return, I won't say anything more. Just please stay with us for a while.

- Ma ... I have to go ...

Anya stepped on a juicy fruit and the juice splashed, filling the whole room with a New Year's aroma.

"You can't... you just got up." Do you want me to cook something for you?

The woman reached out her hand to her, which in a year had become wrinkled too quickly. Everything inside Anya shuddered.

Treacherously, the pistol slipped out of his jacket pocket and fell loudly on the parquet board. Anya's mother shuddered and then turned pale.

- Why do you need this ...

The girl did not think of anything better than to pick up a revolver and abruptly jump out the door.

- Anya!

Anya could not bear the look of this woman. He made her sick. In those moments, everything seemed impossible. The daughter could not bear the appearance of her own mother: her brown hair and almond-shaped eyes. Even the dimple, which appeared far from a smile, caused anxiety inside the wounded soul.

Frankly speaking: her mother was too similar to Masha, and the hallway smelled too much of tangerines. Therefore, Anya ran with all her might, so as not to give vent to emotions.

Numb joints crunched with every movement. In a year of this miserable, low, meaningless way of life, the once-young body has become senile. It broke rather than bent, torn rather than stretched. Even riding the elevator down was a challenge.

But the fugitive was not prepared for what she would feel when the steel door slammed shut behind her. It was as if she had been plunged into a pool of ice water. From the frost, and thick as pitch, darkness in Anya's head something broke. The noise of the roads, unusual for the ear, drove me crazy. The wind blew the skirts of her jacket and made it difficult to even button up.

— Masha! Masha! she screamed like a wounded animal, and the blizzard howled with her.

After all, somewhere out there, in this gloomy world, her Masha was lying in the snow. And her hands were wet. From snow, from tears, from blood. Like that time, they will write to her in the news, and then forget. And there will be no more of those warm smiles, kind words and gentle touches.

"I won't let this happen," a mad whisper echoed in the wind.

"Anna," someone said, hugging her from behind. She felt a warm breath tickle her neck.

"It's good that I found you," said Pasha's native voice.