“That too,” said Gesar, not even embarrassed now. “But I didn’t want to state a reason like that in front of our colleagues.”

“Well, thanks a million.” I got up and walked towards the door.

Gesar waited until I opened it before he spoke. “I must say, Anton, I’m very pleased for you. Pleased and proud.”

“Why, exactly?”

“Because you didn’t intervene without permission. And you didn’t even come up with any human nonsense like phone calls about a bomb on the plane . . .”

I walked out and closed the door behind me.

I felt like screaming out loud or smashing my fist against the wall.

But I held out. I was imperturbable and cool.

I really hadn’t come up with any “human nonsense”! The thought had never even entered my head. I was convinced that we had no legal right to save two hundred people—and I had saved one Other and his mother.

I must have learned all my lessons well—I had behaved entirely correctly for a Higher Other.

And that made me feel lousy.

“Anton!”

Looking round, I saw Semyon hurrying to catch up with me. He seemed slightly embarrassed, like an old friend who has just witnessed an awkward and ugly scene. But we had been close friends for a long time already, and Semyon didn’t have to pretend that he had been detained by chance.

“I thought I’d have to wait longer,” Semyon explained. “Well, that was a freaky move by the boss—very, very freaky . . .”

“He’s right,” I admitted reluctantly. “It really was a strange situation.”

“I’ve been assigned to talk to the boy, initiate him and explain to the mother why he should study in our school . . . basic standard procedure. Why don’t we go together?”

“You mean you’ve already found him?” I asked. “I only read the names, I didn’t take any more trouble . . .”

“Of course we’ve found him! This is the twenty-first century, Antokha! We called our information center and asked them who didn’t show up for such-and-such a flight to Barcelona. A minute later Tolik called back and gave me the names and addresses. Innokentii Grigorievich Tolkov, ten and a half years old. Lives with his mum . . . well, you know that Others are statistically more common in single-parent families.”

“It’s the effect of social deprivation,” I muttered gruffly.

“The explanation I heard is that dads subconsciously sense when a child is an Other and leave the family,” said Semyon. “In other words, they’re afraid . . . The Tolkovs live not far from here, near the Water Stadium metro station—why don’t we mosey over?”

“No, Semyon, I won’t go,” I said, shaking my head. “You’ll manage just fine on your own.”

Semyon gave me a quizzical look.