The alarm clock rang. Waking up from a semi-drowsy state, Serge sat down on the bed with difficulty. He did not sleep all night. The sleeping pills had no effect. Fortunately, he had wisely taken a day off from his work. He looked out of the window – everything appeared as usual: the slanting rays of the sun shining onto the stripes and spots of yellow autumn grass; passers-by hurried for work; stray cats slowly crawling out of hiding places. Everything was so mundane, that for a moment Serge thought that event that has happened at night was simply untrue, just a nightmare. But then his glance fell on the agreement on the table. He bleakly sighed, took one of yesterday’s cigarette butts out of the plate, lit it up and smoked. To be certain, he decided to have his lungs checked by a doctor.
The doctor scowled at the results of blood tests, then at the X-ray of the chest and finally said:
“Honestly, the picture is not so good, as well as the blood tests … no, nothing catastrophic – markers of tuberculosis or cancer have not been detected yet … but if you do not immediately quit smoking, then, I am afraid, the consequences will be dire. It is strange to me that three months ago you did a fluorography with us and it was good.”
“I’ll quit, I’ll definitely quit, doctor”, Serge assured. His voice trembled.
The contract has already begun to be fulfilled. Serge left the clinic and walked to the church.
“Father, I want to confess,” Serge spoke in a hoarse voice to the stately priest.
“I am not a father, I am a deacon. In our church, Archpriest Gregory confesses an hour before the evening service. Today you are already late, so come tomorrow,” the priest looked at the grief-stricken Serge and added affectionately, “our lost sheep.”
Upon hearing the name of the priest and diacon’s last phrase, Serge was taken aback. He doubted that the father and the egregor was the same person. But still, such coincidences seemed to him very odd. Serge recalled Gregory’s warning and hurriedly left the church.
For several hours Serge wandered the streets in thoughts. All sorts of nonsense climbed into his head. For example, why not to report Gregory to the police? Serge understood that it could neither save him, nor catch the egregor, but his mind desperately continued to look for a way out.
“Serge, hello, why so gloomy?” someone pushed him into the shoulder. Serge raised his eyes. His school friend Alex stood right before him.
“Hello! I just talked to the god of all smokers yesterday,” Serge confessed in order to test the perception of his situation by others.
“To whom? Ha-ha! You should’ve work as a humorist on television! Huge talent is wasted” Alex laughed.
“I’m quite serious,” Serge persisted.
“Well, I turn here, bye!” Alex giggled and stepped aside along the path between buildings.
The dialogue with Alexei convinced Serge that he could not tell his misfortune to anyone in order to keep himself out of the guarded institutions for the mentally ill. For an hour or two he walked along the streets aimlessly in prostration.