Virusomahia

In the skete

The road wound along the forest, and when he heard the noise of an approaching car, he turned into the bushes just in case, hiding from unexpected passersby. Garlic really muted the sweet smell of psychovirus and did not stir up bad feelings in the soul of Perun. Having grown up under subway fans, he had not yet succumbed to the effects of this harmful drug. Sometimes he was irritated by aunt Vera's slowness, but he clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms and forced himself to remember the hardships aunt Vera had gone through to raise and feed him on the abandoned subway. With outsiders he almost did not intersect, Lubava and her husband were always kind to him, protected themselves by tranquilizing drugs. Besides them, grandfather Afanas, who had lost his sense of smell, and the dog Gavrik were all his acquaintances. But now he had to meet new people and be prepared for any of their reactions and for the surprises of his own behavior… The road, endlessly winding, finally led to the stone, ancient masonry walls of the Hermitage. An elderly man's unshaven head appeared in the window.

"To stay with us or in search of something? " The head asked.

"In search of meaning", Perun wanted to say, but said aloud: "I'll stay for a few days, if you agree".

"Make three prostrations, and let's go", said the head, and disappeared. A minute later, it reappeared with a fat body in a long black robe. "I am father Gennady, and what should I call you?"

"I am Perun", the young man said.

"Pagan, then," the old man commented (Perun was a god in Russian mythology). "Kiss the cross and go", he added. "Struggle with passions by labor and prostrations. If it doesn't help, then our guards will lock you up in a punishment cell for bread and water until you recover", father Gennady said confidently.

Indeed, there were two guards at the gate, stout men in black cassocks.

"What if they are conquered by passions?" Hesitantly asked Perun, thinking that the two of them he would unlikely prevail.

"They'll have guard above them", the monk said with a grin.

Perun was given an empty cell and assigned to cut all the grass around the Church. He was uprooting weeds until evening, when an old man called to him as he passed by.

"Finish your righteous labors, let's go to eat", he said and looked into Perun's eyes. Looking into them, the old man looked into the very soul of the young man, and when he saw it, he said without words: "welcome, my son".

The bell rang, and from all corners of the large, stone-walled Hermitage, men began to come out, in black vestments and in ordinary everyday clothes. Perun followed them. There, after praising the heavens, the men sat down to eat. Each was given a plate of soup and a slice of bread. Their chewing drowned in the monotonous reading.

"I want more", one of the men suddenly shouted, and the reading stopped in mid-sentence. The man became more and more enraged. "I haven't had enough of this soup", he shouted and pounded the table with his spoon until two guards took him to the punishment cell.

Dinner was over. Everyone went to their cells, and Perun went to his room. There was nothing there but a bed and a desk. However, there was a notebook on the table, and Perun immediately plunged into reading until he was half asleep. Then he went online and found a chat of people who thought up how to fight the psychovirus. Having registered there as a Per, he made the first note: "I came in the monastery in search of solution of virus. All the possessed men are put in the punishment cell, the rest struggle with the temptations of bowing, fasting and labor…"

Vigil

Few days have passed. During the day, Perun cleaned the territory of the skete, and in the evenings he kept his Internet diary. A girl from China with the nickname Tang responded to several of his publications, and he went to her page. Tang was in search of means from psychovirus in China and went to Buddhist hermits. While reading how she lived in a Buddhist monastery, Perun did not notice that the bell rang for Vespers. A knock on the door interrupted his reading.

"To prayer", the doorkeeper said as he entered. "What a wind today, you’d better bring your coat".

Perun threw his cloak over his shoulders and went out into the courtyard. The wind bent the branches here and there. Along with the wind came a faint sweet and sour smell of Passion. Just a whiff of it made anyone feel irritated and angry. "How can I go to the house of God with such thoughts? " He thought and turned to the cell of the elder Savva (that was the name of that friendly old man). At the entrance stood, leaning on a stick, Savva himself deeply in thought.

"Here comes young Perun to the elder for advice", he said without turning around. Then he added, " And I have some advice for you". First of all, separate yourself from your thoughts. You are a joyous, kind soul, loving and beautiful, a creation of God and His image. And thoughts brought from outside are just the wind: wait and it will calm down. A tree remains a tree, no matter what winds bend it. And your soul", he finally raised his eyes to Perun "there it is, smiling like a little boy and wanting no harm".

Their conversation was interrupted by a terrible scream and crash. Angry men ran out of the church, armed with sticks, smashing everything around them and fighting with each other. Savva led Perun into his cell and locked the door:

"Go, you have a lot to learn, I have a secret passage here", he opened the basement and, blessing, pushed Perun there.

"What about you?" The young man didn't want to leave.

"My days are numbered, don't waste your strength on me. Go, and find a solution to this problem", the elder closed the lid of the cellar behind Perun.

Perun went down the stairs, then along a dark corridor, and finally came out into the forest, to the well and a small hut. Here the elder went into seclusion, disappearing from the skete for several days. In the hut were crackers, turnips, and herb tea. Perun carefully packed all this in a bundle made from the raincoat, charged his tablet and added a new entry to the virtual diary: "Today I left the skete. The enraged monks made a rout, the wind blew harder and bent the tops of the trees, but they held out".