Jumping up, I recoiled. Stumbled over Lizzy's legs, stepped back and pressed my spine against the wall between two windows. Someone from the freshmen screamed, someone dove down under the chairs in panic, hiding from the crazy professor, someone tried to run out into the corridor, but the hall door turned out to be locked, and they only helplessly pulled the handle, shouting "Help!". Only some of the newcomers remained in their seats and for some reason started laughing. Especially Lizzy, who laughed the loudest of all, to the point of tears. But the senior students weren't affected at all. They neither panicked nor laughed hysterically. It seems one of them even yawned.

A barely noticeable bluish smoke and the smell of gunpowder was floating through the hall. I was shaking. I'd heard about crazy students who shoot up institutes, but for a teacher himself to do such a thing… And why isn't anyone stopping him? Why aren't they taking the weapon away?!

"Ah, damn it!.."

It was Jake who suddenly took a halting breath and groaned in annoyance. Putting his hands on his knees, he rose. The strands of his hair, stained with blood, left long red streaks on the white back of the chair in front of him.

Coughing, he spat out the lead bullet into his hand and clenched it in his fist, hiding it from surprised eyes. Then he exclaimed resentfully:

"Mr. Wordsworth, why is it always me when something happens?! You could have at least warned me!"

"Didn't I warn you, Jacob Brittlegill, that the one who got the lowest score in my subject during the preparatory courses would be severely shot? Did you think I was joking? Philosophy, young man, is a serious science. It doesn't tolerate humor!"

"Why the shirt though!" Jake hissed, poking his fingers into the torn hole. "It is… it was brand new!.."

"Jacob Brittlegill's shirt took the enemy bullet for a reason," the old man said ironically, addressing the hall. He smiled again, but I no longer liked his smile. "The ability of each of you, my dears, is both a gift and a curse. And here I'm not just saying pretty words! Truly, he who heals others from mortal wounds will one day be mortally wounded himself. He who is surrounded by blue orgone inevitably encounters not only miraculous recovery but also incurable injuries. The healer and the sick are intertwined as one between the spirals of his DNA. Do not seek human logic here! It is present in what was said, but your current split, dual mind cannot comprehend it. However, do not worry. Everything will be fine. We will deal with your mind a little later – in my classes."

With these words, the teacher suddenly shifted his clouded gaze to me. His white eyes didn't see me and, at the same time, he saw me:

"And who are you, my dear?"

"My… my surname is Antipova," I squeezed out with difficulty. "Nicole Antipova."

"Remarkable composure, Nicole!" the professor exclaimed. "But why, pray tell, are you looking at me like that?.. Sit down, little bird. Hey, and you, lazybones and truants, have you fallen asleep down there on the floor? Stop lounging around, get out of the trenches. Open your notebooks and write down the schedule for today – today you'll have five classes: Biology, Chemistry, Law, Geography and Art History."

"E-excuse me," a voice came from under the chairs, "what did you mean by all this? That our Jake… is like an angel? That's why he's immortal?"

"If we express it in the generally accepted – I mean, among humans – paradigm," the professor pedantically corrected, "then he's more of a demon than an angel. But these are all conventions, young man. In fact, there are no angels and demons, and never were. But there are phoenixes – winged creatures that command fire and air, and ouroboroses¹³ – the serpents who rule over water and earth. Yes, yes, these are the two divine creations depicted on your student cards."

I collapsed back into my chair, stunned. I barely made it – my legs gave out.

"Two eternal entities!" the philosopher continued to proclaim pathetically. "Two symbols of infinity, of boundlessness, which we will discuss more than once! The crawling ones were later dubbed demons, and the flying ones angels, but this isn't quite correct. In reality, the two immortal races simply divided the world in half. Without war, without disputes – and from then on each carries out their own service. There is no and should be no confrontation between them. And in our age it is even absolutely normal if a phoenix and a serpent become friends – like these two – and even sit together at the same desk!"

He waved his hand in our direction. Jake turned to me and measured me with an appraising look. My classmate's eyes had become serpentine again – thin and elongated. I shuddered.

"Some of you have already learned the truth about yourselves," the professor, clasping his hands behind his back, was now pacing back and forth across the stage. "From your parents or from your benefactors – it's not so important. And of course, I also contributed my bit – those who attended my preparatory lessons were laughing the loudest just now. Others were less fortunate. They have yet to meet their hidden 'self' and go through the stages of denial, anger and bargaining. I suppose it won't come to depression. Yes, dear students of groups 'P' and 'S' – that is, those who were given colored passes – at this moment I'm addressing you. I hope you believed me and won't conduct experiments on yourself, testing your ability to be reborn from dust and ashes. If not – I suggest not delaying and doing it right now in front of the whole audience. So to speak, to consolidate the material covered. There are still bullets left in the gun."

The first-years, blinking fearfully, looked at the podium where the matte-black Makarov¹⁴ gun with a brown plastic grip lay.

"No volunteers. Wonderful. You are much more perceptive than the previous intake."

"And those with white passes," asked Lizzy's neighbor, the guy who a minute ago had screamed the loudest, "group 'M'. Who are they?"

"In order to help you, the imperishable ones, cope with your uncontrollable, difficult-to-subdue nature, our institute – LIMBO – was formed. Here you study shoulder to shoulder, in the same cohort, with mages – that is, essentially, with ordinary, mortal people who pass on secret, metaphysical knowledge from mouth to mouth as a family heirloom. You will recognize them by their unique, telling surnames, which they have inherited from father to son and mother to daughter since time immemorial. Remember them! Unlike you, whose immortality is, so to speak, an accidental mistake of nature, it is the hereditary mages who will later head, following their ancestors, a special FSB department, in which the best of the eternal ones will work in service to the Fatherland!.."

"And what will happen to the worst?" squeaked a short girl from the back row.

"You don't need to know this at all, young lady. Your business is to study diligently and listen to your teachers. We, unlike phoenixes and serpents, are not immortal, which means we're spending our precious time with you slackers. Please be so kind as to value it."

"Could you tell us what the letters 'BO' mean?" another pressing question came from a freshman.

Mr. Wordsworth, as if in passing, rubbed the face of his wristwatch with his fingertip:

"I would like to chat with you more, ladies and gentlemen, but I cannot. The show is over. See you tomorrow at the lecture."

He descended from the stage much more nimbly than he had climbed it. Hobbled between the rows. Opened the window frame wide, as if it were a door, and fearlessly stepped outside.

The first-year students started shouting again. What is he doing! It's good that our third floor is actually the first above ground, otherwise such a reckless act could have ended badly.

"He'll get himself killed one day," Jake muttered, shooting a glance toward the open, tapping against the wall, wooden frame.

I couldn't tell whether the guy was worried about the philosopher or, on the contrary, wished for him to get himself killed sooner. Taking off the copper key from his chest, the rector unlocked the assembly hall door, and the freshmen, making noise and jostling, ran away.

* * *

Well, at least now it's clear that 'BO' doesn't stand for Business Objectives.

I walked down the corridor between Jake and Liz, hugging my briefcase to my chest. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to put it on my back right now. It seemed like I really had wings there. More precisely, just one – but sharp as a thousand knives.

"BO is for Bonkers," the guy grumbled irritably, as if reading my thoughts.

Or for Boundlessness?.. Wait a minute, what does this mean… If the baldy had stabbed me yesterday in the alley, nothing would have happened to me?!

No way, that's nonsense. The crazy old man must be raving. Or maybe it's just a prank? Some kind of theatrical performance for freshmen before initiation? And my dreams about flying are just a coincidence?..

"Guys, what do you think about all this?" I spoke up, emerging from my thoughts.

"I think that today after classes we need to get wasted again," Liz blurted out.

"I'm in," sighed Jake 'the Snake' still rubbing his fingers on his chest where the bullet had recently hit. The blood stopped flowing surprisingly quickly. Although, what am I talking about. There must have been some kind of capsule with red liquid hidden under his shirt. All the liquid leaked out, and the show was over.

"What did he promise you?" I was itching with curiosity. "An automatic pass? Ha, or rather, a pistol pass?!.."

I laughed, releasing the tension:

"By the way, about the pistol. You put the bullet in your mouth beforehand to spit out later, that's clear. But if the weapon is a mock-up, how did such a loud shot sound happen and where did the smell of gunpowder come from?"

They both stopped and looked at me synchronously.

"Niki," Jake finally said, starting to unbutton his shirt. "This isn't a prank."

"Okay, Gill, wait," Liz hastily interrupted him. "That's not a sight for the fainthearted, and our phoenix doesn't need it. You understand? Let her just get drunk with us one last time on the first of September. Like a normal person! You'll have plenty of time to scare her later…"