Radio Broadcaster I: The Kaslinska University Hospital received a rare case today.
Radio Broadcaster I: The patient's veins irreversibly transformed into electric wires. As of 18:00, all arterial, venous, and capillary tissues throughout the patient's body have undergone necrosis.
Radio Broadcaster I: The director said they would invite more professionals to the consultation to decide on further research directions.
Radio Broadcaster I: Global Variety News has claimed the case may become one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of the era.
Radio Broadcaster I: They started a new column to analyze possible compatibilities between the patient's new wired veins and different appliances.
The radio in the St. Pavlov Foundation's garbles out the news through a haze of static.
Still, Vila listens to it carefully, trying to parse out every snippet of information.
Vila: ...
Reaching out her arm, she gropes for the button and manages to silence the radio, whose sound has become more nuisance than news.
Vila: One hour and 50 minutes.
Vila: He's late. Very late.
She rubs her hands before balling them at her side. Patience, she reminds herself, is a universal virtue.
Patience for a coming change, for a new opportunity, patience for salvation.
A universal virtue, perhaps, but one being tested to its limits here.
Vila: Mr. Name Day must have been stopped by some important business. Unable to send word because of its gravity. Of course.
Vila: I should've gone with him. I could have seen the children sooner.
Vila: I know this isn't Rayashki, and I have no say here.
Vila: But I'd rather do something than just wait around like this.
She looks around, her eyes landing on the television.
Even a temporary guest room in the Foundation proves spacious, yet cozy. Everything here is more open and elegant than anything Vila has seen since she came ashore.
This comfort comes included with a full range of amenities. For example, a real, functioning, personal TV.
Vila: Phew, alright.
Vila: Let me see.
Vila: It should work the same as the TV in Rayashki's canteen.
Though Vila isn't overly familiar with these appliances, a TV can't be too hard to use.
After a click, pictures begin to stream onto the TV.
Vila: A ballet set to a sweeping orchestral suite.
Vila: Swan Lake.
Vila: Haha, it is a classic. I'm not surprised to find even people in the Far East appreciate it.
Vila: But, I'm not really in the mood for a ballet. I'd prefer something else.
Vila: Instead of Swan Lake, or Swan Lake, or yet another Swan Lake ...
Vila: Huh?
Vila: What?
Vila: How can these all be playing Swan Lake?
There is nothing else, no other program but Swan Lake. With each switch of the channel, the show creeps closer to its end. A stuttering prince lowers onto one knee, reaching his arm out to the departing Odette.
At this moment, she hears hurried footsteps coming from the corridor, followed by a knock on the door.
???: Ms. Vila! Are you there?
Vila: Yes! Please, come in.
???: I'm so sorry, Ms. Vila ...
Vila: What's wrong? Mr. Name Day, catch a breath.
Vila: Is it the kids? Did something happen to the kids?
Name Day: It's ...
Name Day: It's the "Storm."
Vila: The "Storm"? What do you mean—
Name Day: And Avgust has gone missing ...
Vila: !?
