The Hostess (English version)

Experiment

Central Moscow. The Agency

"What’s the urgency? You made me cancel my lecture. It is rarely done in September," said the thin middle-aged woman, sitting down in an old leather armchair.

The tall man in front of her blocked a picturesque view out of the window of the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour. The room was old, freshly painted in a Russian style of renovation -- barely touched up. The cracks in the old wooden floor dated from the Khrushchev era and gave off a peculiar smell. The heating system should have been on display in a 20th-century museum. The furniture was solid old wood, unkempt. But the view was nice. And the basement, as far as Kira could tell, held the most advanced scientific laboratory in the world.

"It worked. Not for long, but we managed to link. I wanted to tell you in person," the tall man said.

Kira stopped herself from betraying any emotion. This control was an acquired habit from her foreign missions. Once the cascade of excitement calmed down, she smiled thinly and asked indifferently: "May I see it?"

"You will, soon. We are moving it closer to your department. The Uni’s old vaults in Building 6."

"Why?"

"Well, this building is too central, you know. An incredible rental space, I suppose. Plus it's too dangerous to link that close downtown."

"Oh, they are concerned about safety, are they? Better down south, nevermind the small detail of a couple of thousand students and a zillion residential housing complexes around the vaults that have never been renovated since Party times. Plus, you wouldn’t be able to secure the lab there with all that network of underground passways."

"It has been decided already. What’s still open for discussion is who will oversee the historical research. You are one of the few candidates."

Kira had to check her emotions again. Her connection to the experiment went far back. It had been one of her most challenging, albeit successful, missions, the material she brought back initiated a complicated and expensive project run by this smart space engineer Leontiev. Over the years they had become friends of sorts, as far as friendship was possible at the Agency, when she wasn’t even sure she knew his real name.

"May I look at the contract? How long do I have to consider it?"

"You have 10 minutes. You know that the top brass have many educated youngsters. The agency is not immune to nepotism, unfortunately. I must act quickly before a gilded baby will be put in charge, most likely I would be ousted as well and you - out of the picture entirely. Are you ready for that?"

Kira knew he was right. Rage boiled in her gut at the recent memories of her uni’s so-called effective management - those young administrators who, having obtained the positions by nepotism and servitude, knew nothing better than to impose their erratic will over students and professors alike. Mostly inbred, these bright things climbed the ladder by playing safe, knowing how to please and get ahead, turning ruthless and crude once in power. What a waste of intelligence! She would not let the likes of them ruin the science if she could help it.

Leontiev tried to read her emotions in her face, then said: "I will step out for a smoke. Think."

He reached out for a pack of strong cigarettes, never breaking eye contact. With his free hand, he tapped lightly on a pile of papers on his desk and left. Kira moved closer to the pile, mentally thanking her old friend for giving her this chance. The sign on top of the papers, naturally, read ‘Classified’.

When Leontiev returned to the room, he did not need to ask for Kira’s decision. Her eyes shone brightly enough to reveal the answer.

South of Moscow. University grounds

Spring had finally arrived, making the walk to the lab much easier. At least now his shoes wouldn’t be wet the entire day while performing his mundane tasks. Or would they? Anything was possible in April - snow, thunder, heat, and maybe even love. Forget it! Boris fussed in front of the lab's entrance, searching for the right key card in his bag to pass the second ID check. The card looked unimpressive, with just the university’s name. Unimpressive was the right word for everything he did: delivering mail to his boss’s desk, checking the machine lights, dusting off the linking cradle, writing mundane reports, and fetching Kira’s cappuccinos with coconut milk. When something serious and exciting was about to happen, he was sent on an errand, as if he didn’t understand the physics behind the device or how to operate the linking machine. Only on very rare occasions was he allowed to glimpse the records of the ‘viewing’ during the linking process, saved on the drives kept under Kira’s watchful guard. What was the point of his research assistantship if he was always kept on the periphery?

His frustrated thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing.

“Yes, Kira, I’m here. How can I help? … Sure, I'll lecture your freshmen. The 1960s? Of course!”

Well, now. This opportunity to display his knowledge was one of the perks of being an assistant. Although nervous, he enjoyed sharing his historical knowledge with undergraduates.

South of Moscow: Lecture Hall

Anna was late again. She gently cracked open the door of the lecture hall and sighed with relief. Boris was substituting for Kira, thank goodness!

"Please join us, Miss Anna," Boris said.

Anna smiled weakly as she glanced at the heads that turned towards her. Her sneakers made no noise as she joined her usual group of friends next to Kate and Nick.

"What have I missed?" Anna whispered.

"Only the first half of the crazy 1960s, Cuban crisis and all," Kate whispered back. "Why are you late again? A fight with Alex? Will he let you go to the party tonight?"

"Don't forget the important thing, please! And I invited our lecturer too. It will be extra fun, I bet," Nick interjected, whispering.

Boris paused his lecture and gazed directly at the chatting group.

"Young ladies and gentlemen, please pay attention. Kira threatened to give you a test next week. Would you look at this timeline?" Boris said.

"Oh, sorry, Mr. Boris," Kate retorted. "I was just filling Anna in on the context she asked for."

"Alright then. Thank you! Let’s continue, please." Boris resumed. "The assassination of RFK came as another shock to the Americans…"

Old Center of Moscow. Nick's Flat

Boris had never seen Nick's flat before and was somewhat impressed. Moving the plastic grocery bag with a bottle of champagne onto his left arm, he rang the bell. The door was large and heavy, a pre-revolution one. When it swung open, a powerful wave of sound and smoke broke loose onto the stair landing.

"Hey there! Come in, Boris! We do need new blood and a refill!"

The corridor was a wonder too. Spacious yet not posh. Nice art posters on the wall caught Boris's attention before he faced the living room, crowded with students and a dozen different musical instruments.

"Hey all, say hello to our prof Boris! Let's toast to his lectures and our papers!" Nick opened the bottle and handed Boris a glass while the others cheered.

Boris went red once again from the unsolicited attention and prayed that the limelight would move elsewhere. And it soon did to a couple arguing loudly.

"I am tired of your excuses, Anya! You have time to hang out here or at the library. I am not your priority and this is wrong, very wrong."

"I thought you were busy with your sports training, your competition and all. I want to spend time with my groupmates. And please don't mention libraries. You simply don't know what that is!"

"Of course, I am too stupid and dull for you, Miss History and Arts!"

"Oh please! Just let me be tonight! I don't want to fight!"

Boris recognized Anna's voice and was drawn to the brawl. Putting the empty champagne flute down on the table and straightening up his glasses, he decided to intervene.

"I believe the lady does not want to continue this conversation. Please let go of her," Boris said bravely.

"And you are? Oh, you must be that book worm who lures her into the library for hours and hours."

"Alex, please. No need to attack our teaching assistant. Please," Anna grabbed Alex's menacing hand.

"Then why the heck do you feel like budging in?!"

"Watch your language, young man. Football fan, I assume?"

"And what do you know about football?"

Anna stood between the two young men, raising her hand to stop the cockfight: one was sporty and angry, the other, she had no words for the other, she only knew she wanted to protect him.. So she grabbed Boris by his arm and said, "Let's go, Boris." Then she turned to her angry boyfriend. "Thank you, Alex, for ruining this semester's party for me. I don't wish to see you anymore."

Stair Landing

Dragging Boris to the landing outside Nick’s flat was easy. Anna was shaking somewhat. What had she done? It had been rough recently, but not so bad. She loved Alex, brainless and crude at times that he was. She knew she was being impulsive. Yet deep inside, she felt pleased about being the centre of attention for another man, her TA.

“Why did you have to interfere? What for?” she asked Boris.

“I thought he was rude to you and you wanted to get away.”

“Yes, I was. But your interference made things worse, you see,” Anna raised her eyebrows at the embarrassed Boris in a coquette manner.

“I see. I am useless. Here or in the lecture hall or in Kira’s lab experiments. Everywhere, I am useless,” he looked down pitifully.

“Well, you could be helpful if you saw me to the dorm. Would you?”

“Of course!” Boris’s spirits seemed to lift. “I will call a cab and walk you to the doorstep.”

“To my dorm’s Cerberus of a guard, you mean?” She smiled. And she knew that that smile would have made Boris follow her to the Arctic.

On the Way to Campus

The taxi drive was a peaceful break in Anna's Moscow life. She loved seeing the grandiose, picturesque views of Moscow from the car window. The architecture changed swiftly, as if flashing past different time periods, bringing people closer together. At night, the magic intensified - the construction sites, imperfections, and dirty cars vanished from sight. The city was luminous and simply magical, she thought. Despite sitting next to someone slightly unfamiliar, she felt safe and calm, a feeling she hadn't experienced since she started seeing the energetic and quick-tempered Alex, the sports champion from another group. Additionally, she sensed Boris looking at her intensely. The attention from this slightly older yet much more intelligent rising star in the history department was not unwelcome. History, next to acting, was her main passion after all.

"So, what is it that Kira didn't allow you to do?" Anna inquired.

"Oh, some experiments she's working on. Time travel and such," Boris responded nervously. He felt a tinge of anxiety about breaching his NDA, but his desire to impress Anna was stronger. He hoped that breaking the NDA agreement wouldn't matter much that night.

"Time travel? And you're involved in that, seriously?" Anna questioned.

"Not exactly involved, but yes, I am her lab assistant. It's classified, you know," Boris tried to brush off the topic, but Anna's innocent and alluring smile kept the conversation going.

The Lab

Kira rushed into the lab. Boris was holding his head in both hands, staring at one of the two glass sarcophagi. She followed Boris’s gaze and saw Anna’s frail body in one of them, wired up, and then noticed the blinking lights on the dashboards beside it. The dashboards were in “Emergency” mode, displaying a blinking message: “LINKER IN DANGER.” Kira approached Boris and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"What happened?" she asked.

"She’s dying. She’s gone, isn't she? She’s dead. Dead!" Boris replied, visibly in shock.

"Calm down," said Kira, turning around. "Many people in this lab are dead and alive at the same time." She took off her spring coat and approached the agitated dashboard, with Boris whimpering behind her.

"But… the readings show she's gone. She linked, remained there, and now this — the readings indicate she's done for," Boris continued.

"Calm down!" Kira hit the button to access the linking settings logs on the dashboard. "Death is a matter of time. Now, tell me what you were attempting to do first. We will bring her back. It's just a matter of time." It sounded as if Kira was trying to calm herself down. She realized Anna was outside the usual linking range, and it was evident that Anna's host was unresponsive. Should she contact Leontiev? Would this jeopardize her research? What did it matter if her student's life was at risk? Kira needed to think quickly, something she was good at.

"Listen up, Boris, please listen," Kira's voice now carried authority. Boris lifted his head, tears in his eyes.

"First, I need you to assist me in linking to Anna's device. Then, I need you to seek help, starting with Anna's friends. Monitor the screens, identify the host, time, and location, and proceed with the delinking process. Do not initiate delinking until you have input all the necessary information; it could harm Anna's consciousness. If anything goes wrong, call Leontiev. You have the emergency contacts. You are familiar with the protocols. Is everything clear?"

Kira trusted Boris. She recognized his capabilities, despite Leontiev's early reservations about Boris due to his unpredictable nature. Kira believed in seeing people's potential and helping them realize it.

"Boris, did you understand everything?"

"Yes, I've got it. Let me help you with the linking."

Linking - The First Episode

A long silver-gray tunnel sucked Kira’s consciousness in. She saw (yes, saw, since vision is part of consciousness and not an eye-brain mechanism as many believe) a rapid movement through a tunnel of unidentified substance. Had she been mindful of her body, she would feel nauseous, but the fun part about linking was its utter lack of physical sensations - it was all mind, and the mind, Kira thought, was always brilliant, whatever it was observing and contemplating. The flight translated itself to a blissful state of consciousness. This time the journey through the tunnel took much longer than usual. Kira’s experiments never ventured that far out mostly because it was against the regulations. Kira could feel a mounting excitement. There was a popping sound when Kira reached Anna’s consciousness point of view. Yet, to be technically true, the point of view was that of a historic host. A hostess in this particular case. Kira could see a beautiful hand holding a glass, heard jazz music and had a conversation in English. American English. Thank God! Although understanding a host’s speech or meaning was never a problem for a traveling guest, precise meanings of surrounding conversations could escape the guest's consciousness if the language was unfamiliar. Kira would have drawn her breath in relief if she could, but her body was back in the 21st century, motionless and taken care of by the advanced technology of her scientific lab.

"I say!" said the owner of the beautiful arm decorated with a diamond bracelet. It was being stroked by someone handsome in a black suit and a tie.

"Anna. Anna. This is me, I am looking for you to instruct you back," thought Kira strongly in what would have sounded like a commanding voice if it were one. But it was merely a thought.

"Oh my god! Yes, I am here. Anna is here. I am here. I am scared. And the things I saw!" Someone thought back.

"I bet. Shush for now!" Kira thought.

Kira knew that her thoughts were no longer private. It was a very strange feeling, a torture for polite people like her as she could not hold her dark sense of humour back as would be appropriate in regular conversation. Just imagine when your mind is totally exposed to another? The beauty of time travel was that hosts could not really hear guests that well; a regular thought pattern usually overcame…, plus one was trained to remain in observer mode before linking. But this time everything was different. She needed to talk to an unfortunate student of hers, all while being mindful of the host who was bound to notice this happening in his consciousness.

"Anna, calm down. Gentle, please. We are in the consciousness of a hostess. She may hear us. So I will think in very few words, and I will be precise."

"Okay, I will try to stay put."

"I am getting too drunk. Gee," laughed the hostess. "I hear voices, again, imagine that. And no, thank you, I don’t want another drink. I think I had enough for tonight.”

“Will you come tomorrow, darling? There is an outing, you know."

"I am not entirely sure. I’ll try, but now I need to go home."

Meanwhile in the Lab

As soon as she established that Anna had a pulse, Kate began fussing around the lab with her eyes wide open and excited. It was now Alex who got hysterical, grabbing Boris by the lapels of his shirt and trying to shake him violently.

"Alex, be reasonable. Please. There is no time to waste. I… I… called you and let you in, after all," Boris said, trying hard to shake Alex off.

"What have you done to her?" Alex was raving.

"Nothing she didn’t want to do! She is time-traveling now. Wouldn't you want to be in her place? And if you really care, you will calm down and help me bring her back."

"What needs to be done?" Kate folded her hands in a down-to-business gesture. Then she turned to Alex and said in a Hermione tone of voice, "Alex, darling, you better calm down and help Boris if you don’t want me to tell Anna the move you've made tonight on Krisie. Yes? Let’s be nice and reasonable, shall we?"

Alex suddenly let go of Boris and settled in a chair near Anna.

"Okay. What do we have to do? Boris, be the boss and direct us."

"Okay, guys. See those two monitors. The pictures are fuzzy, I know, such is the state of the connection at present, but these are the images that Anna and Kira are witnessing now in the past. Yes, don’t roll your eyes at me, in the past."

At that moment, Kate and Alex moved closer to the monitors in disbelief and curiosity.

The outing

Kira could now see the beautiful shoes her hostess was wearing. The heels were unstable, but they caused a particular sway of the hostess’s hips when she walked. The sway attracted the attention of those standing below near the private jet’s ramp, those who waited for the beautiful shoes to come down. They were men—sleek, dodgy men. They shot lustful and admiring glances at the woman, and if Kira could have blushed, she would have. She was thankful when the hostess’s eyes singled out one of the bunch. He was hatless and dressed in casual attire of a white shirt and trousers. Approaching her, he displayed a wide smile and incredible blue eyes. Lots of social greeting rituals and hugs followed, loud enough for Kira and Anna to exchange a couple of thoughts.

"I know this man. It’s Sinatra," thought Kira as quietly as she could.

"The singer. I thought he was Black. I know his songs!" Anna was surprised and excited.

"And I know the bad company he keeps. Like the head of the Chicago mafia. We are all in danger," Kira remarked, getting alarmed.

"Can you warn her? Our hostess? Can you make her go away?"

"Allow me to remind you. We are not here to change the world's history; we are the observers. I have a feeling you are beginning to like it."

"Well, it all feels like a movie. But better."

"Good lord! Help us!" thought Kira in English.

Meanwhile, the hostess stretched her beautiful arms in the sunshine and said, "Good lord! Help us!"

"Did you hear? She repeated your words exactly! She must have heard you!" Anna was finally grasping the situation they were in.

"And you. We are supposed to be quiet and watch. Or better yet, go home!"

"Gee! I need to go inside and lie down— the sunshine makes me, well, a bit unhinged."

Men started to laugh, as if being unhinged was a private joke among them. Swaying her way down to the lodge, passing the pool, the hostess stopped briefly before a heavy man in a swimsuit. He was not handsome or young, but popular as young people crowded around him. He waved his hand and beckoned the hostess to come near.

"Darling, looking gorgeous as always! How are you? Do you want to try something new and amazing?" He stretched both arms towards the woman who hosted Anna and Kira’s consciousness. In his right hand, he held a drink, while his left palm contained a white pill. "It is called Tranquility. Ain't it a beautiful name, hah?"

"No, Sam, thank you. I am quite alright," responded the hostess, swaying her hips in her tight green dress.

"Suit yourself, baby," the man sneered through his yellow, nicotine-stained teeth. Kira could feel his dirty little eyes on the woman until she disappeared into a bungalow. It was a large, luxurious suite with a living room and a neighbouring bedroom featuring a king-size bed in the middle. A night stand on the side held a phone and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.

"Here you are, darling," said the man with the bright blue eyes, entering the room and hugging the woman. "You look gorgeous, honey. A drink?"

"Just a sip. You know I want to be at my best when someone special arrives here."

"Just a sip it is," said the man, popping the cork and pouring the fizzy liquid.

The bed felt soft, cool, and welcoming. A relaxing feeling was beginning to creep over the woman's consciousness. The view grew fuzzier while the man started to hum some vaguely familiar melody.

"What's happening? What is happening to her?" Anna was getting panicky.

"Drugged. Now would be the right time to go home."

"Why are we seeing it all clearly?"

"I suppose because we are not attached to her body. Consciousness is wider than either our flesh or intelligence. That’s how linking works."

"Well, that’s lucky, I think. I do want to know who she is. I want to know what happens next."

"Anna, listen. This is not the time to be curious."

"Look, that man from the pool is here. What are they going to do to her?"

"It may be awkward to witness. I hope you are 18 or older."

The Lab

"Oh, that’s gross!" Kate winced at the images on the screen, while Alex was too stunned to comment. Boris finally took control of the situation.

"Please move over to the computers over there and Google for more information. We need to find out who the hostess might be."

"I have a better idea, dude. That’s a million-dollar idea, dude, I grant you that. Can’t we use AI to identify the images?” - said Alex.

‘Yes, you are right”, Boris felt jealous. Why had he not thought of it first?

"You should ask me more often, dude."

"But the picture is too fuzzy, no?" Kate interjected.

"Let’s try all the same, look for a few face recognition apps, and let’s install them on your PCs, while no faces are being visible, that is," Boris sighed with relief at the unintelligibility of the monitor's picture.

A Shrink’s Office

The armchair was occupied by an impressively clever-looking man. Next to him, there was a small table with a dial phone, notebooks, a few pens, two water bottles, and a mysterious silver box. Kira could focus clearly on the table as the hostess seemed to sway to and fro while looking in that direction.

"I feel confused after that trip. I remember getting there. I remember the room. I vaguely remember the pool, then a total blank. Until the flight back, to San Francisco hospital, and now here. I am worried about these memory lapses. What are they about?"

"Can you not remember anything, anything at all?"

"I don’t know. Some images do surface. And yes, sometimes I feel I am not one person. I feel that there are several people in me."

"What do you mean? This is new. Very interesting. Tell me more about these… hmm… people."

"Well, it is like several different 'me' really. Sometimes I feel strong and smart doing important state-level things, like a messenger or even a spy. Ha-ha! Next time I see myself brooding, deep, philosophical even, jotting down images and ideas, poems, and reflections on political events! Imagine that! But most of the time, if I am anything in general, then I am generally miserable. Oh yes, and recently some of the internal dialogues are in Russian. Of course, I don't follow what it means. But I recognize that it is Russian. How crazy is that?"

"Good God! We are ruining her mental health!" - Anna thought in panic.

"Not much health to begin with if she has a shrink." - Kira thought amidst a few different ideas of who their hostess was.

"I can hear them now!" the woman exclaimed excitedly and looked at her psychologist with hope.

"Darling, why don't you lay down on that couch. I will give you something calming."

"Are you sure it is a good idea? More medicine? Too much for my frail body, I think. But okay, my dear Mr. Greenson. If you insist."

"Mr. Greenson. Mr. Greenson. I know this name." - Kira thought, while Mr. Greenson administered a glass with some meds on the side.

The Lab This time, fuzziness descended on the monitors' screens.

"She must be drugged again," said Boris.

"What's wrong with that time?" Alex was visibly getting impatient and nervous. He came to Anna's limp body and stroked her hair. Then he lowered his face to her ear and whispered something.

Back at the shrink’s

"Be safe. Be safe," Anna suddenly thought. Then she added, "What a bastard. Do you feel the doctor is stroking her thigh?" "Will you mind your own business, please, or I will have you expelled when we are back!"

"She is out of it again. Who is the dirty man calling now?"

"I wish we could see the number. Hush. Listen."

"Hello? I need to talk to him urgently, please. Yes, it is about his model… Sir, yes, it is me. Yes, it is about her. She is breaking down. She is becoming aware of her alters… Yes… Yes, I am sure… Well, if you want me to fix it, I'd expect a check, Mr. Engelberg, as well as the meds, you know, the risks… Alright. It is alarming, please hear me. She remembers bits and pieces. More than is safe, to be honest. She even remembers one of her alters’ fluency in Russian. I am afraid it is the beginning of an end. Integration of alters will lead to God knows what. Publicity. We need a plan. I will ring back as soon as I send her home."

Having hung up, the doctor sighed heavily and looked in the direction of the reclining woman. One could even say he looked lovingly at her. Then he reached out for the mysterious box on the side table and pulled out a small shock gun. What followed seemed to hurt both Kira and Anna - an electric jolt to their historical hostess’s body who groaned but did not come to consciousness right away.

"Gee! It hurt."

"What horrid men these are!"

"Mr. Engelberg. Another familiar name."

"Oh! Have I dozed off?" asked the woman, wincing at some pain or other and raising up.

"Yes, darling. That’s the meds' effect. I will help you to your car, darling. You must rest today,

okay?"

"Well… I think I have appointments. But I will cancel. Alright."

They walked outside the house. The signs "Mr. Greenson, Psychiatrist" and "Mr. Engleberg, Chemist" were visible to them all.

"I hope they could see the names at the lab," thought Kira.

The Lab

"Have you seen the signs?" said Kate excitedly. "Let’s search who these are."

Meanwhile, the monitors displayed streets as the installed AI app began to work, identifying the city's locations and transporting them back to 1960s Los Angeles. Amazed and excited, the young students watched famous Hollywood places passing by on the monitors.

The Home

"I am beginning to realize something. I am having a very bad feeling about who our hostess may actually be. Very bad indeed." - Thought Kira.

"Oh, thank you darling," said the woman to the driver, then turned to a woman who helped her get out. "Oh, Mrs. Mooray, ever so attentive. Ever so gentle. Thank you, my dear Mrs. Mooray. What would I ever do without you? The ubiquitous Mrs. Mooray."

"Please rest in your bedroom. I will bring you some tea. Should I help you lay down?" said Mrs. Mooray.

"No, no, I will be fine from here. Did I hear tea? No! Bring me some Champagne please…"

"You shouldn't."

"Oh, I shouldn't and shouldn't have many things, you know. Ah, take calls please… tell them I will call them back tomorrow or whenever."

The hostess fell wearily onto her bed, took her head in her hands, and swayed pitifully from side to side. "What have I become? It’s empty…" (singing softly)… "I couldn't aspire… To anything higher…" (weeping)… "I wanna be loved by you… Nobody else but you…"

"I know it! I know this song! I might know who she is," Anna was thinking loudly.

At that, the woman sat down suddenly, saying: "I don’t know who I am anymore… Here's that nonsense again…"

She stood up and reached for a chair in front of her mirror. Slowly she settled in, looking at the mess on her dressing table. There were lots of different pills, makeup items, perfume, a calendar, and a phone. Taking the disorder in, the woman slowly raised her eyes to the mirror and faced herself "Hello there, Marilyn. You are not looking your best today, are you?"

"Damn. I knew it! - Kira could not help thinking.

"What a beauty! Everyone knows her!" gasped Anna, if she could.

"Yes, yes. Damn that beauty. Damned beauty. You and you and you. And who are you, anyway?"

The actress continued to stare at the mirror until a strange vision began to appear. Apart from a skinny woman in a black sweater, the mirror began to reflect other semi-transparent images of a beautiful child, Marilyn’s younger self, a business-like self, a seductress type, and among these various images was Anna’s. "Anna, what are you doing? I can see your reflection in the mirror!"

"I don't know! It is not my fault!"

"It is not my fault. I understand Russian? I speak Russian, do I? Who am I?" said the actress.

"She has very little left. Anna, we must go back. Or else," pleaded Kira.

"Now, I am definitely staying until I know what happens," retorted Anna.

Kira addressed the actress, "You are the presidential model. And you are in grave danger. And so are we all."

"Yes, a president's toy, mafia plaything, a movie actress, a divorcee, a tortured child, a slut, an addict, and … you, who are you?" said Marilyn looking at that image of Anna.

"I admire you. I am your biggest fan. Everything will be alright!"

"Thank you. My nice part," Marilyn smiled thinly at the vague image of Anna in the mirror.

"We must find our way back to the future!" thought Kira.

"Yes, that's a very nice thought. There is a future. And I can't wait to get there."

The actress then got up and walked thoughtfully around the room. The calendar on her dressing table read August 2, 1962. Attracted by commotion, Mrs. Mooray knocked and entered without invitation with a glass in her hand. Marilyn waved her away but could not help noticing that her housekeeper left the door slightly open and lingered nearby to pry.

The Lab

"Holy smokes! Is that the actress whose picture is everywhere?" exclaimed Alex.

"This is bad news, guys. Really bad news. Did you see the calendar? Did you notice August 2, 1962 by any chance? Do you know what that means?" said Kate.

"It means the hostess has 2 days to live. And we are not getting Anna back! Kira won't leave her. And we will have two corpses to account for!" Boris panicked.

"That's a slippery slope fallacy and panic. Let's get to work. Read those 'pulling' instructions to me again, please," said Kate.

They sat down next to Anna's capsule and began reading instructions for the unlinking mechanism.

The Script

Marilyn woke up refreshed. She thought that she had never slept so well as last night. She felt whole and wholesome, energetic enough to stretch and do her morning routine. She then prepared to apply her makeup. This time she looked in the mirror without the usual fear of self-loathing. The telephone rang, interrupting her admiration of her rested self.

"Hello. Sidney! About what script, the Jean Harlow one? Yes, I do. Yes, I do want us to go speak to her mother. I thought she was dead, to be honest. Oh gush. I say. That's exciting. Really? Today? What time? I need to bathe and get my makeup done first. But I will be there. No, I won’t be late. Not today, darling."

Mama Jean, an eccentric old lady who managed to preserve a large part of her beauty, lived in a wealthy neighborhood on a gorgeous Mexican-style ranch at Indio Palm Spring. She seemed happy to see such illustrious guests. Welcoming them to her living room, she settled in a large armchair surrounded by relics, photographs, and mementos of her beloved “Baby Jean”. She folded her hands in surprise and breathed out, looking at Marilyn:

"I could swear my baby has come back from the dead! It’s a miracle!"

Marilyn shifted her weight on the couch across and shyly explained:

"Thank you! That’s really no miracle. Since childhood I had been thinking of her, rolling over the facts of her life in my mind. It was kind of spooky, and sometimes I thought, am I making this happen? But I don’t think so. We just seemed to have the same spirit or something, I don’t know. I kept wondering if I would die young like her, too."

“Oh no, please, darling, stay away from those wolves at the studios. Be careful and save yourselves from those projects and all.”

"What projects do you mean?"

"Don't you know?"

"Oh, I do know how difficult it is to be an actress. Was it difficult for Jean?"

"Difficult? That's not the word, darling. Do you want to know her story? I mean her real story?"

Marilyn nodded while Skolsky pulled out his notepad, both moved a bit closer to Mama Jean.

"Well, it all started at a summer camp. Michigan lake. I sent my baby there when she was 14. They didn't let me see her the entire time. When she came back, she was a different being really, it took me a while to understand."

"Understand what?"

"The baby was taken away from me. They take babies and turn them into things. Beautiful things, nasty things. Doesn't matter what happens next officially, husbands, directors, stardom… And the end is inevitable."

"They? Who are they? Studios? Fox? MGM? What did they do to Harlean?"

"Monarch Studios. Yes, you could call them that."

"Darling, you must have heard about the project. There is secrecy around it, but hey, nothing can be kept secret in Hollywood," said Mama Jean getting up and moving closer to the window.

"Oh, I know that!" sighed Marilyn.

"Then you understand what I mean," Mama Jean turned suddenly, came up close to Marilyn and leaned forward. She began speaking quickly. “The place is a big Central Casting for lost souls. It was my fault. Her father's fault too. Well, it does not matter now. All in all, she became part of the Monarch. The "It Girl" of the thirties. Her demise was inevitable. The poor things don't live long. With such control, such exhaustion. Cannot live long. But their impact on society is powerful, they serve the purpose, whether for good or ill, I don't know."

Then Mama Jean composed herself and added in a much calmer voice:

"Will you dare to show all that in your movie? Will my baby speak up for all those lost souls in Hollywood?"

The Lab

“AI worked! It recognized the mother of the first bombshell actress, Jean Harlow.” Kate was getting excited, reading website pages about the actress.

"And I do know the Jean Harlow cocktail, rum and vermouth, not bad really," interjected Alex.

"Stop it, Alex, her story is not funny at all," Kate’s voice was getting somber. The main thing is that we know where they are. I am going to get ready to delink them.

Los Angeles

Meanwhile, in 1962, Marilyn was fidgeting in the car.

"Sidney, I don't like the sound of all that. If this is true, then it is a bombshell indeed. Nothing blonde about it." "You are right. If true, it sounds too dangerous." "I cannot believe it, no, no, I cannot believe it. Studios are part of the government agencies' horrible plot? People, no, even the president knows nothing about the atrocities behind the scenes?" "I cannot believe it, no, but… Wait. I know where I should try to find the proof." "You'd better forget it. We can make adjustments to the script. It does not have to be that dark." "Yes, but then it wouldn't be the truth, would it? I will get the proof first, then do something to make a difference." "I never heard a worse idea from you, darling."

August 4, 1962

The next day, Marilyn missed her appointment with Mr. Greenson. In fact, she wrote two large checks and two “thank you for all your help” notes. After that, she kept calling a number that did not respond.

"Jack, pick up, it is important this time," Marilyn bit her nails. "Alright then. Let me do this in another way then." She reached out for her telephone book and dialed another number.

"Can you please connect me to Pat Newcomb? Yes, thank you!"

"Pat, darling, can you do me a favor? I want a press conference on Monday. I have some things to say. Some sensational things. Why not? It’s not about them. Not about me and him. Not at all! You simply don't know how important that is. Just do this, please. Alright then. I am counting on you!"

Marilyn then sat down, calming herself, pulled out a red notebook from her bedside table, and began writing something down.

"Kira. I am beginning to feel defocused. Has delinking started? I am not ready to go back! Anna, please let go. Let it work. Not now. Not yet. Not now, voices, not yet. I need to concentrate,” Marilyn got up in front of the mirror. “Okay. Here it is.

“Dear ladies and gentlemen, I am here to tell you a few important things that may disturb you greatly. I know that I am merely an actress, and apparently I am far from politics, Hollywood is, at the first look. But as it transpires, I have been closely involved, since my very childhood, in the covert operations conducted by the US intelligence agencies in cahoots with Nazi scientists who live and prosper in our country. Their experiments are secret. The president himself may not know about those atrocious deeds that have been taking place for several decades right in front of the eyes of the innocent. I call upon the second commandment of our constitution to speak the truth I happened to uncover. Firstly, the goal of the Nazi scientists is sinister - mind control of the citizens of our country. Celebrities are the new weapon. What’s it worth to recruit one person when he’s the idol of millions? Secondly, they use children and women and other unwitting subjects to experiment with trauma-based technologies. With the help of famous psychologists, they traumatize children to split their psyches and create dissociative disorders - multiple alters. They train these alters to perform criminal acts. Thirdly, they do not shy away from using newly developed drugs and technologies upon their victims, use spies and the mob to control these poor people and hush them up.”

The bedroom door opened, and Eunice’s head showed up through the crack.

"Miss Marilyn, may I bring you anything to drink?"

"Please leave me alone. And stop spying on me! Get out! Get out!"

"Fourthly, they get rid of all evidence, including bodies, imitating accidents and suicides, especially here in Hollywood. Think of how many mysterious deaths of actors and actresses you know about."

Kira was getting alarmed: "Anna, you must go, please let the delinking work! This is all so terrible. They will kill her! Anna, we will discuss it later. I know that I am in danger. I am risking my career. But I have to stand up and fight for the truth. I am a citizen of a free country first of all. I saw many files of other individuals, including famous actresses, who were made to be part of these horrible activities. The names of the programs are…"

At the Lab

“What is she doing? She has been talking to the mirror for such a long time?” Alex asked. "She may be rehearsing?" suggested Kate. "It does not look like rehearsing. History won’t know what that is," Boris said. "The delinking is in place. It should work soon." In any case, I don’t like it at all. Can we please hurry and get them back? "Yes. I am doing my best, all things considered…"

Helena Drive

Marilyn put the tape and her red notebook inside a brown envelope, licked the dry glue to seal it, and then wrote the address slowly and carefully. She walked briskly outside. Passing by Mrs. Murray, she threw over her shoulder, "Mrs. Murray, your resignation note and a check are on the desk. Please take them both and start packing as soon as you can."

The postal courier outside was already waiting. Marilyn smiled widely at a young man who accepted the package, never taking his eyes off the famous bright thing, until he jumped into his truck. Marilyn waved at him at the gates. Back in the house, the phone kept ringing.

"Now they want to talk to me, do they?"

With that, she slowly walked to her house, entering it, perhaps, for the last time.

The Lab

All present, including Kira, circled Anna’s capsule. The readings were good, Kira knew. But Anna remained unconscious nevertheless.

"Should we call an ambulance? Is anything wrong?" Kate kept asking, while Alex and Boris were both too worried to speak.

"Give me one minute, please," answered Kira, trying to search her brain and come up with an idea. She was not in her best shape after her own delinking and needed time to collect her thoughts. What could have gone wrong? Why is Anna not coming back to her senses?

"Boris, what if you run the delinking again?"

"But the readings say it worked, she must be back?"

"Let’s do it. Set the same coordinates and run the thing one more time. Before we call an ambulance."

The lights on the monitors blinked like crazy again. Then finally, Anna moved her head and opened her eyes. She looked around at the happy faces of her friends who all were wild with joy.

"I say! Is this the future? Is this the future’s welcome?" Anna said that in English, but nobody seemed to mind as her friends were busy competing to get closer and hug her. Only Kira froze in disbelief. She did not like the sound of it. She did not like the look of it either. Anna’s smile looked a lot like Marilyn’s. Anyways, she would worry about that later.

"Boris, listen, Boris, you too owe me one. Collect confidentiality signatures, and the 'hush money' will be taken from your salary."

Next week at the agency Despite politeness, there was not a trace of warmth in Leontiev’s voice. His face was stern and grey.

"Thank you for your report, Kira. You were right. University is no place for time-travel experiments. They are moving the lab and will call on you as a consultant. Eventually. That will be all."

"That's all? No press conference? No reopening of the murder case?"

"What murder case? There is no proof. And you know it."

"It's in my report. It was a highly political assassination to keep a dirty plan secret. Worse than that, it was the first case of mind-controlled subjects in the plan of taking over the world. It deserves publicity. People must know about it. God knows what they are capable of now."

"Be realistic. Who would believe us?" Leontiev did not sound convinced.

"There are two witnesses." Kira’s tone of voice got colder.

"In any case, they won't expose or threaten the linking experiment this way. You know those men, their big egos."

"Are you saying it is going to be locked in a drawer? Put in a box with 'confidential' written across? Order before law is it?" Kira was getting angry.

"Calm down. Perhaps they will do something. It is not for us to decide."

"You are wrong! It is for us to decide. I will get more proof. I know how. There are still honest journalists. And then there is the tape."

"The tape? What tape?"

"Nevermind. Truth takes time to unravel, that is." Kira stood up ready to leave. She just got a text that the flight to Los Angeles had landed and Anna and Boris had made it through the immigration.

"I will keep you posted," Kira threw over her shoulder. She was certain that Boris and the girls, one visible, the other powerful, would set things right.