1 For some reason, a chalk outline is always drawn around someone who falls from a window. All that’s left are the contours, which look like a plane. A plane that will never take off. When I ran up—the tram didn’t come for ages—they’d already taken Beta away, so I never did see how she lay there on the tarmac. But judging from the chalk plane, she’d lain as if asleep. That’s how she slept, on her side, with one arm stretched right out, her head nestling on it. Maybe it was easier for her to cut through the waters of sleep like that, in that seemingly purposeful position… Beta, Beta!... Why is everything so dark? I gathered from the onlookers that she’d been taken to the morgue. But where is Gamayunov? Probably went with her. Beta plus Gamma… An equation which had never happened in real

