Night had fallen on the city, and the shadows were deepening under the flickering streetlights that cast long stripes of light on the asphalt. Delia Asia Vieira walked down the street, her steps silent, as if she were part of this night world. Her gaze was fixed ahead, but there was still a shadow of uncertainty in the depths of her eyes, as if she were searching for something more than just the road.
She stopped at the entrance to the subway. Everything around her seemed frozen – empty sidewalks, rare cars, fog wrapping around skyscrapers, and faces of passers-by who seemed not to notice her. Delia Asia Vieira leaned against the iron grating at the subway doors and lit a cigarette, breathing in the cold air. Time dragged on slowly, and her thoughts strangely dissolved in this silent expectation.
She decided to try an experiment. Yesterday, when she was still in a more lively, noisy part of the city, people would come up to her with questions, try to talk to her, but now, in this foggy, almost empty part of the city, she felt like she was surrounded by an invisible wall of indifference. She waited. She decided that she would stand here, not moving, until someone from the passersby came up and asked where she was going.
A few minutes passed. Someone from afar slowly walked towards her, then quickly turned into an alley. Several people walked in the opposite direction, busy with their phones. But no one looked at her. Even those who were walking at a distance did not turn in her direction. It seemed that the city was closed, and the people in it were busy exclusively with their thoughts, worries and empty rituals, not noticing her presence.
She realized that no one would come. This feeling of loneliness became almost physical. Delia Asia Vieira lowered her hand, putting away the cigarette, and looked at her hands, as if trying to find in their movements the answers to questions that remained unclear to her.
Delia Asia Vieira felt no pain, only a strange, cold calm. In this night silence, she felt as if she was dissolving, becoming part of the city. No one knew her here, and that was a freedom of its own, but also a fear. There were always questions in her life that she could not find answers to. No matter how hard she tried, her life remained fragmented, fragmented, as if all events were random, meaningless.
She looked again at the people passing by. It seemed more and more that each of them could be someone important, someone whose attention she so desperately sought, but no one was looking at her. For a moment, it hurt her - as if her entire existence was just an empty and useless gesture in this huge city.
Delia Asia Vieira felt annoyed when she noticed people avoiding her again. It seemed like the whole world was busy with its own affairs, and she remained invisible to it, like a part of the environment, not worthy of attention. Strangely, she always thought that if she stood still for a while, someone would definitely notice, even accidentally. But not this time.
In desperation, she grabbed the sleeve of the nearest passerby, as if she could change the course of events with that gesture. He didn't push her hand away, didn't look at her with displeasure, as most people did, but simply stood there, as if he himself were part of this instantaneous contact.
The passerby was a man in a white coat, with a serious expression and a gait that betrayed the habit of strenuous days on his feet. He did not look the type to care where anyone was going, and his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. However, he did not pull away or argue with her.
"Where are you taking me?" he asked with vague interest, but without resistance.
Delia Asia Vieira slowly pulled him along, and soon they were both on the sidewalk leading to the subway. On the way, the man never took his hand off her sleeve, and only after they entered the underpass did he speak.
"You must have forgotten something," he said. "I should have been at work, to be honest. And now here we are."
She looked at him puzzled, trying to grasp the meaning of these words. The doctor was so calm and confident that she felt a little confused.
"Do you happen to know... where I'm going?" she asked, experiencing a strange feeling that everything in her life seemed to be interrupted, as if her actions were losing their meaning in the world she had found herself in.
The doctor narrowed his eyes and raised his eyebrow slightly.
"Um... where are you going? Well, I could probably guess," he said, as if he wasn't sure how to answer. "But until you convince me that this is no accident, I'd say you're going where a new day awaits."
His words sounded unclear and vague. Delia Asia Vieira tried to concentrate, but her thoughts seemed to be confused in this conversation, as if she heard them from somewhere far away. She decided that for now it was better not to ask unnecessary questions. She did not know what exactly she was looking for, but the feeling of uneasiness did not leave her.
"Who are you?" she asked, breaking the pause.
The doctor flinched slightly, as if the question had brought him out of his reverie.
"Oh, excuse me. I'm Lou Hastings. Doctor. And it looks like I'm going to have to go that way to get to work. And you? Please tell me where you're going. I've got a few minutes to help you."
Delia Asia Vieira looked at him, and in that moment it seemed to her that she had never felt so lost. She herself did not know what she was looking for in this city, in this world, in this conversation. Everything was becoming complicated and strange.
There was nothing threatening in his face, but she still felt as if her path was some kind of unsolved equation. And now, as she stood before him, she suddenly felt her own uncertainty begin to flow into his words and his gaze.
As they walked down the subway steps, Delia Asia Vieira increasingly felt that her conversation with Dr. Lou Hastings was leading her into an unknown, tangled web. The steps echoed beneath their feet, and each step seemed like a step into a world where logic and order were beginning to lose their power.
The doctor was clearly agitated, his face was covered in a light layer of sweat, and his movements became more hurried, as if every thought was in a hurry to break out. He spoke incoherently, sometimes forgetting to complete his sentences or jumping from one topic to another, but Delia Asia Vieira still tried to understand him.
"You see," he said, "I didn't always believe it, but the more I researched, the more it seemed true. I'm working on something big that could change the world. It's not just a new vaccine for diseases... It's something much more important! A vaccine for immortality!"
He looked like he had just discovered the secret of the universe, and every word he spoke seemed to confirm his genius. Delia Asia Vieira, even though she was a robotess, felt his energy gradually infecting her, making her listen more attentively.
"Immortality?" she asked, unable to hide her curiosity. "How can you be so sure that such a thing is even possible?"
Dr. Hastings paused for a moment, looking at her as if she were someone who could understand what he was talking about even if she was a creature and not a living being.
"I worked on this for many years. At first I thought it was just a myth, but then I came across old studies, forgotten articles, that pointed to strange patterns in the aging process. The idea of immortality, you know, is ancient, but I saw in it something that others did not notice."
He spoke with barely enough breath to catch his breath, as if he could not utter his thoughts quickly enough to satisfy his own ardor.
"All these ideas about eternal life, they lie on the surface, but no one understands that immortality is not just a matter of time. It is a matter of control. If I can find the right chemical components, the right molecule that will slow down or completely stop the aging process..." He paused, his eyes lit up when he said these words. "We will be immortal. All of us. And I will be the one who saves humanity. I will be a benefactor. I can change this world."
His passion was almost infectious. Delia Asia Vieira looked at him, aware that before her stood a man obsessed with a goal that, in his mind, was perhaps the solution to all of humanity's problems. But something about this conversation made her uneasy.
"And you're sure that's how it'll be? Do you think everyone will like being immortal?" she asked, not knowing how else to express her confusion.
The doctor stopped, shook his head slightly, and smiled.
"Of course, it will be difficult. People are not ready for this. But what could be more important? We would overcome illness, old age... death. You would understand if you only saw how this could change the future! I am not just a scientist, I am a person who can leave a mark on history!"
Delia Asia Vieira fell silent, her algorithms processing information at an unusual speed. She could feel his words beginning to evolve into something more than just scientific research. His desire for immortality was turning into something more dangerous, an idea that could change the world, but if it got out of control, would have unpredictable consequences.
When Lou Hastings spoke of his failures, his voice became quieter, as if he himself felt the futility of his efforts. They had already descended onto the subway platform, and their footsteps echoed in the empty tunnels. He glanced around the half-empty station and continued his story, as if telling it to himself.
"You see, no one believes in me," he said with irritation, but there was a note of longing in his words. "All these investors, these people with money... I'm simply not interesting to them. I can offer immortality, but they don't give me a chance. That's why I work in a children's hospital. I'm a simple gynecologist, and that's all I can afford. Doctors are all like that. But you see, I wasn't born for this. I was born to give humanity something they can't even dream of."
He wiped the sweat from his forehead and continued, ignoring her puzzled look.
"And in my free time I write... Fairy tales, philosophical treatises, well, and generally all sorts of nonsense. But, you know, under the pseudonym "S. Lem". People think that this is just another anonymous writer, but in fact, this is how I convey my ideas. Each of these fairy tales has a piece of truth. But it seems that they are not important to anyone except me. I live for this."
Delia Asia Vieira listened to him, trying to grasp the essence of what he was trying to tell her. Her metal body couldn't understand the feelings behind his words, but she couldn't help but feel his suffering.
"You're a doctor," she said, slowing her pace slightly. "Why can't you continue doing your job and still search for the formula for immortality?"
Lou frowned and looked at her as if he was searching for understanding in her eyes.
"Because no one supports me," he said, exhaling heavily. "I'd be happy to go back to science, to work on my project. But that requires money. And I don't have it. You can't even imagine how hard it is to be an independent scientist. And those who have understood something from this don't want to take risks. So I just keep writing. It's better than giving up."
He sighed again and slowed his steps a little. Their shadows stretched along the railroad tracks as they moved toward the next station.
"I believe in my star," Lou said, his tone soft and confident now. "I believe that someday I will find what I seek. This formula for immortality. I believe that if I pass it on to humanity, it will be the greatest event in history.
Delia Asia Vieira thought for a moment, trying to imagine the picture this man was painting in front of her. Lou's faith in his theory was unconditional, his confidence in achieving his goal, despite setbacks and obstacles, was almost tangible.
"But what if you're wrong?" she finally asked, unable to resist asking. "What if immortality doesn't bring happiness to people, but instead only complicates their lives?"
Lou stopped and turned to face her, his face now serious.
"You think people don't want immortality?" he asked, his eyes glittering in the dim light of the station. "Yes, they may not know what they want. But believe me, if they had the chance to choose, they would choose to live forever. No one wants to die. No one."
Her thoughts were confused. She was sure that all his ideas were based on good intentions, but she couldn't help but notice one detail: he was so focused on his goal that he probably didn't notice how destructive his path could be.
And Lou Hastings continued his story, moving from one topic to another, his eyes blazing with an irrepressible fire as he spoke of the "Asian scallop phenomenon." Delia Asia Vieira listened attentively, unsure how to respond to his strange metaphors.
His word formations, so obviously filled with passion and infatuation, combined with his thoughtful, almost dreamy look, made her feel a little uncomfortable, but she decided to give him a chance to tell her everything he wanted.
"Have you ever heard of the Asian scallop phenomenon?" Lou began, as if his thoughts were starting to drift in different directions and he grabbed her attention to keep her on his train of thought.
Delia Asia Vieira frowned slightly, but decided there was no point in interrupting him.
"There's an actress in Canada," he continued, "whose last name means 'scallop' in Portuguese. And her first name... her first name is the name of the largest continent on Earth. I mean, her name literally means exactly what you just thought of. Odd, isn't it?"
Delia Asia Vieira couldn't help but notice how Lou suddenly became animated, his eyes sparkling as he spoke about the woman. She felt that his words were not just a story, but an emotion he couldn't contain. But his words sounded a little strange.
"This woman," he continued, "is absolutely not beautiful. Not at all. But something in her presence... in her life makes people come up to her, write her letters, dedicate poems to her. As strange as it may sound, her name has become a household word. Anyone who has ever written about their hopeless love has definitely mentioned her. She has become a symbol of something completely unattainable.
Delia Asia Vieira, not knowing how to react to this, thought about it. At first glance, it seemed strange to her that Lou was talking about a woman with such fanaticism, but she decided not to interfere, listening to him further.
"And you know what?" Lou said, lowering his voice as if about to share some important secret. "I can't figure out how she does it. She's completely unattractive, has no obvious virtues, but her magnetism... it's unimaginable. She captivates people's gazes just by being near her. Somehow, everyone who encounters her begins to believe in miracles, in magic, in some kind of impossible force.
He fell silent, and Delia Asia Vieira, sensing his strange, almost fanatical admiration, asked:
"What's her name? You still haven't said it."
Lou suddenly lost his confidence for a moment, his face darkened.
"I don't know. It seems like everyone calls her by different names. She probably doesn't understand why she has such an influence on people either. But her name, like her image, has become part of this myth, this endless story that everyone writes and rewrites."
Delia Asia Vieira was silent. She still couldn't understand what exactly attracted Lou to this woman. Was it genuine admiration, or just an empty attraction to something ephemeral and unattainable? But she understood one thing: he believed in the magic of her name, in her mystery, even if she was just a myth for those around her.
And Lou Hastings spoke with increasing confidence, his face became serious, like a man who had gone through many thorny roads of disappointment and revelation, and was now ready to share his latest, most important discovery. Delia Asia Vieira, although she did not quite understand what mysterious concepts he was trying to convey to her, decided not to interrupt. She only listened, slightly confused by this stream of ideas that were not quite familiar to her.
"So," Lou continued, "this "Asian scallop phenomenon", as I call it, is nothing more than a syndrome of hopeless love that occurs in a person when he watches films with this actress. Do you understand? All these feelings that they experience are not real love. It is just a mental illness."
Delia Asia Vieira felt her jaw tighten a little, and perhaps she even shook her head slightly in disbelief. She decided that maybe this was just a strange explanation for an unusual attachment to a woman that Lou himself had presented as something mystical. But Lou was so engrossed in his theory that he didn't notice her doubts.
"She's a lousy actress," he continued, "basically. No acting skills. But there's something in her eyes, in her presence, that makes people look at her, losing touch with reality. And when they start watching her films, watching her smile or say a few words, an unimaginable feeling awakens in them. It's not love in the traditional sense. It's an illness. And they all, unconsciously, start thinking that this woman is the only one worth living their lives for.
Delia Asia Vieira realized that his words sounded like some kind of philosophical treatise, with only a subtle hint of madness. Lou was completely absorbed in his theory, making long pauses between phrases, as if trying to weigh each word, each explanation.
"And if it weren't for this phenomenon," he continued, "if it weren't for this crazy attraction that haunts everyone who has seen her in a film at least once, no one would probably pay attention to her. After all, she's an ordinary woman. There's nothing exceptional about her. But those who watch her films begin to feel dependent on her. From one look, from one word. It's like a drug, you know? You can't stop."
He was silent for a moment, wiping his forehead, apparently lost in his thoughts, continuing to analyze in his imagination the phenomenon, which with each word he spoke became more and more confusing.
"And so," he continued, "medicine still hasn't found a cure for this syndrome. Psychotherapists are banging their heads against the wall, and these people... they still can't get rid of it. They constantly feel that this woman is the only one they should be with. And it is this dependence, this morbid obsession, that makes her a cult, and everything else is just a consequence."
Delia Asia Vieira sat and listened to him, not quite understanding what was happening. Her mind was more focused on real problems than on philosophical studies about actresses whose popularity no one could explain. But Lou's gaze, his eyes full of faith in his words, made her think. Could such attachment to a person, as Lou described, really be something more than just attachment? Could it really be a disease?
"It's like heart disease, only in the brain," Lou said, as if summing up his theory. "Too much desire to get something, something that is unattainable. And people live in this illusory world, submitting to their passions until they lose themselves.
Delia Asia Vieira was silent. Lou's words seemed to penetrate her consciousness, and she was no longer sure what she thought about what was happening. This story of meaningless love, of its painful, all-consuming power that cannot be explained - it somehow touched her.
Lou Hastings continued his story, becoming more and more engrossed, delving into details that seemed to interest only him. Delia Asia Vieira listened attentively, although she did not quite understand why so much attention was being paid to such a strange topic. But the doctor was engrossed, and his words carried an incredible sincerity that made her feel that perhaps there was something to it.
"And so," Lou continued, "I observed several patients, and all of them, by a strange coincidence, were Russian. From Ivanovo. Can you imagine how strange that sounds? In Russia, where there are so many beautiful women, they still look for their love in Canadian films, in the film where that actress I told you about was filmed."
He paused to check with his eyes how she was taking this information. Delia Asia Vieira only shook her head slightly in response, not quite understanding how Russian men could be so fascinated by an actress they had never met.
"Their names were Anton Skovorodnikov, Ilya Silantyev and Pavel Solonin," Lou continued, still focusing on these men. "All three were in love with the same woman. And the strangest thing is that they couldn't find a partner in real life. They always believed that this actress was their destiny. And although they were all in Russia, none of them looked for love among women in the real world. They looked for it in the movies. In films with this actress. And this attachment, this syndrome, became their only outlet."
Delia Asia Vieira thought about it. It all sounded very strange, and despite her logical tendencies, she felt this strange story begin to capture her imagination.
"It's really weird," Lou continued, "there are so many beautiful women in Russia, and they... they can't find their partner in real life. And instead, they look for their love on the TV screen. It's as if they can't perceive reality as it is. It's like a drug. They try to experience the feelings they see on the screen, but they are so strong that these people lose touch with reality."
Delia Asia Vieira looked at him in surprise. But Lou was not finished.
"I think it's not just an illness," he said, his voice growing more serious, as if he were sharing a profound revelation with her. "It's probably not even an illness in the usual sense. I think it's a result of the fact that it's been scary to live in Russia lately. Fear, a sense of threat, unfulfilled feelings of love... and all of this is amplified by films that show an ideal that is impossible to achieve. This fear is superimposed on movie screens, and people begin to seek salvation in something that cannot be real. In their fantasies.
He looked at her as if he was seeking confirmation, as if he wanted to hear her opinion, even if she couldn't fully understand his thought.
"I don't think it's just some weird disease," he said with confidence in his voice. "It's more like... it's a consequence of modernity. It's what happens to people when they lose touch with reality. When they can't find a way out of their fears and unfulfilled desires in the present, they start looking for it in movies, in fantasies. And it's like a snowball: the more they retreat into this world, the stronger their addiction becomes.
Delia Asia Vieira was silent for a moment. It was a difficult question, and although her own experience was not similar to what Lou was talking about, she realized that there was more to these words than just a general discussion of love and cinema.
"And what do you think about this," he asked her, "about this whole situation? Maybe you, too, feel that people are now lacking the real thing? And not what's on the screen?"
She looked at him. His eyes were shining with enthusiasm, and she felt that he really believed what he was saying. She wasn't sure yet if it all made sense, but something about his words made her think.
"Maybe," she said quietly, "but I think we're all too fixated on finding meaning. Sometimes you just have to live without trying to find the whole explanation."
Lou nodded, and then they walked to the exit of the subway. Feeling that his long story had come to an end, the doctor exhaled a little and looked at the robotess with a slight smile. She was silent, digesting his words, but the doctor continued talking, as if not noticing that she was not quite ready for such revelations yet.
"So," he said, "all this could have been avoided if good films were made in Russia. Do you understand? Young people would not have found an outlet in searching for their ideals in foreign films. But we have so many talented people, and if cinema in Russia was at the world level, then perhaps everything would be different. But as it is... people get lost in these mirages, become attached to images that will never become reality. And so they begin to look for their dream among actresses who are absolutely alien to them."
He stopped, feeling that he had gone too far in his thoughts. As if he himself realized that at some point he had become too enthusiastic in his speech, to the point that he could drag the conversation about cinema into an entirely different sphere. He quickly changed the subject, as if calmed down from the heated exposition of his thoughts.
"Well, that's probably a different topic," he said, smiling. "After all, I promised not to burden you with unnecessary stories. I suggest... we leave here and continue in the restaurant. You want to discuss something with me, right? Let's do it after we drink a glass of champagne, and I'll order you something tasty from the menu. I know a good place. Just listen to my recommendations!"
Delia Asia Vieira nodded, feeling her tension ease a little. Lou, though strange, was sincere enough in his sentences not to embarrass her. She noticed that it was still interesting to watch this man, who seemed to be pulling her into some other world, a world where he was a scientist and philosopher, trying to connect everything he saw and bring it to life. There was a special fire in his eyes, and the way he spoke, as if all these problems were the result of people not being able to understand the world and themselves, remained with her even after his last words.
"Very well," she said, smiling back. "Champagne and a good menu would be nice. But don't keep me waiting too long, Dr. Hastings."
Lou laughed, almost with childish delight. He opened the subway door and they stepped out onto the street. Lou immediately headed toward the small street cafe they were headed for.
"You know," he said as they walked through the evening city, "sometimes people don't realize that the world around them is much more complicated than they imagine. They think that movies are everything, but in reality... real life is much brighter, if you look at it correctly.
Delia Asia Vieira glanced at him, and although she couldn't fully understand all of his reasoning, she felt that his opinion had some deep meaning. Maybe it was all just an illusion, but... at that moment, maybe he wasn't just talking about the movie, but about the life she herself was in, experiencing all of this.
"I believe you're right," she said, nodding encouragingly. "Sometimes reality can be more surprising than the screen."
Lou looked at her with a slight smile.
"Exactly. And life... will always be more interesting than any movie."
Delia Asia Vieira walked down the street, her steps confident and calm. Lou Hastings, who was leading her to the restaurant, continued to talk about his ideas and theories, not noticing that the street had become empty and strangely quiet. She listened to him, mentally casting aside her recent thoughts about his strange views on the world and cinema. It all seemed so distant, so abstract, but he was interesting.
But suddenly, in the midst of their conversation, everything changed. A man in a black suit jumped out of a passing black sedan, which floated past them like a shadow in the quiet of the night. His movements were quick and precise, almost mechanical. Delia Asia Vieira only had time to see his face for a moment, a face that showed no emotion. He didn't even look in their direction before he pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at Lou's head.
The shot sounded like a clap of thunder, and Lou Hastings fell to the ground, his body immediately becoming lifeless and heavy. For Delia Asia Vieira, everything that was happening was terrible and shocking. She did not have time to understand anything - the criminal, having shot Lou, abruptly got into his car and disappeared as quickly as he appeared.
Delia Asia Vieira's heart began to beat faster. She stood there, stunned, unable to comprehend what had just happened. But her instincts were right. With the coolness she sometimes possessed, she pulled out her phone and called the police and an ambulance. She couldn't afford to panic. This was the moment to act. Time was running out.
The ambulance had taken Lou Hastings to the hospital in minutes, but it was all in vain. He died on the way. The doctors seemed to have tried their best, but the bullet had been fatal. And now Delia Asia Vieira sat in an empty room, on a couch, where she could barely comprehend what had happened.
She was not alone. There were two people sitting next to her. One was a police officer, a man of about forty with neatly trimmed hair and a serious expression. He looked at her silently, occasionally writing something down in a notebook, but did not ask questions. The second was the head doctor, a man in a white coat, with tired eyes and a tired smile that meant nothing. He was even-tempered, but it was clear from his gaze that he was worried about what had happened.
Delia Asia Vieira felt their presence, but neither of them broke the silence. Her thoughts were racing, and her heart was still clenched by the many things she had not asked Lou Hastings. His death had taken her by surprise, and now she felt lost. Her shoulders shook slightly, and she clenched her hands into fists to calm herself.
"We're sorry about what happened," the officer finally said, breaking the silence. "We'll be investigating, but for now we need you to tell us exactly what happened."
Delia Asia Vieira didn't answer right away, trying to gather her thoughts. She sighed and looked up with difficulty.
"He... he didn't have time to tell me anything. We were just walking, and he kept talking about his theories. He was talking about immortality, about a man who could become the savior of the world if he found the right formula... And then... and then... he just fell."
"I understand," said the head doctor, nodding sympathetically. "It was very difficult. And now we need to understand who might have been interested in his death."
Delia Asia Vieira felt her body tense. She didn't know what to say, but her intuition told her that this was the key moment. Who would want Lou Hastings dead? Was it because of his research or because of his unfortunate position in life? Lou wasn't rich, after all, but something about his project might have attracted the attention of people she couldn't understand.
She looked at the officer.
"I don't know who could have done this," she said, her voice growing a little more confident. "But I'm sure it had something to do with what he did. His ideas... they weren't that ordinary."
The officer took a couple of notes, but did not ask any more questions for now.
"We'll try to figure it out," he said, and looking at the head doctor, he added: "Thank you for your help."
The head doctor nodded and looked at the robotess.
"If you need anything, don't hesitate to contact us. We are here to help."
Delia Asia Vieira rose slowly from the sofa, tearing her gaze away from the officer and the chief physician. The wait was over, and she had to go. Those few minutes of silence, when no one knew what to say, hung in the air like a loud silence before a storm. She stood up, looked at their stern, tired faces, nodded, and left the room.
The corridor was empty, lit only by dim lamps. The air was thick with the smell of antiseptics, and the doors opened and closed quietly, like in some old hospitals where time seems to slow down. Delia Asia Vieira walked out, taking a few steps before she noticed two orderlies carrying something wrapped in a white cloth on a stretcher.
She came closer, immediately feeling a strange tension in the air. One of the orderlies, noticing her gaze, slowed his pace a little.
"Who is this?" Delia Asia Vieira asked, trying to look under the fabric.
"The man who just died," the second orderly replied, looking at her with a polite but slightly tired look.
Delia Asia Vieira felt her gaze remain fixed on the stretcher. She felt her heart flutter, though she tried not to show it. Something was wrong. She looked back at the orderly.
"Who is he?" she asked, no longer hiding her concern.
One of the orderlies shrugged.
"This is a doctor," he said, "he died of a heart attack. They didn't tell us anything else."
"Which doctor? Where did this happen?" Delia Asia Vieira continued to insist, but at that moment both orderlies looked at each other and, without bothering to answer, simply walked on silently, without quickening their pace.
Delia Asia Vieira, noticing their silence, felt her nervousness grow. She turned around, unsure of what to do. On the wall of the hospital, her gaze was drawn to a sign hanging right next to the door. It had one word written on it that made her heart clench. "Cemetery."
She frowned, not understanding what this could mean. And next to this word there was another inscription, no less strange: "ENTRY FREE". Strange symbols, as if someone wanted to leave an important message, but she could not understand their meaning. Delia Asia Vieira was not sure, but at that moment her feeling of anxiety became almost unbearable.
She walked slowly towards the cemetery gates, quietly walking along the narrow path dotted with small graves. There was a strange silence all around. Even the wind seemed to have gone to another part of the city. All she could hear were her own feet and the strange rustling of the leaves, which seemed unnaturally loud.
The path led her through the cemetery, and soon she noticed two people walking towards her. The two were dressed in black funeral home suits, and in their hands they carried a small coffin covered with a dark cloth. A ghost of paradox came over Delia when she looked at their faces - the two were unusually calm, as if for them everything that was happening was part of a normal working day.
As they got closer, one of them nodded to her without stopping, continuing on his way.
"What are they doing?" Delia Asia Vieira wondered, but for a second she forgot the answer.
Everything that was happening was strange, like a script for a horror movie, but she couldn't stop. Questions were piling up, but there was neither the time nor the right words to ask them. Everything was so absurd that she didn't even want to understand what was happening.
She walked past the undertakers and stopped at the cemetery gates. At that moment, her gaze caught the old sign hanging on the gates again. No explanation, just the words: FREE ENTRY. What did that mean? Why did she feel that this place was too familiar? Why was there a smell of decay in the air?
Delia Asia Vieira decided to go back. But her body wouldn't listen. She looked around and noticed that the cemetery seemed to be getting more and more cramped and ominous. For a moment, her eyes stopped on one of the tombstones, on which the name "Doctor Bazlard" was carved. Delia Asia Vieira remembered seeing his name in one of the records she had come across earlier. The name was familiar, but only as part of an invisible thread in this mysterious story.