Who is Virr? Well, I am a nobody, who barely got spit out of the slums of Blue Ray. A loser who cannot find a job in the profession for which he was trained throughout his 40 years of childhood. The Interclass Flow Coordinator told me to start writing down my thoughts because I am fucking chaotic… Therefore, dear Mrs. Coordinator, here are my completely unhealthy notes which I hope will magically get me a job. Not only the woman I love can't be with me because I'm not a nobleman, but I also have to sleep in a dormitory with three blunt fat guys who don't listen to me at all when I try to explain to them that night is for peace, and certainly not for playing cards loudly and telling dry jokes about who would do whom. All the money we had to give away to be blessed with an escape hatch from the slums will now go to the pockets of fat noblemen. If I ever get a job, my wages will be two times lower than in the slums, because the fucking upper spheres need cheap labor! Satisfied, Mrs. Coordinator?
Almost. Maybe a little less self-pity on your part would allow you to obtain more satisfaction from engaging with your housemates?
Okay then, I'm clearly not the only loser you've had to deal with over the years. I'm not saying that I have super sympathy for you, but I'm a little surprised. Anyway, I shut up my regrets and maybe I still don't get a quiet night, but we started talking. I noticed that the music outside makes me feel better. We had none in the slums, but here all the sounds are incredibly beautiful and alive. Conversations, on the other hand, resulted in a lot better sleep. The guys just don't tease me that much anymore. I still don't have a job, but I started to approach things differently. I am less nervous, and to be honest, I'm pretty good at perfecting my patience. You know, the guys started talking about the Volhov's Tradition and I feel this might be what I'm looking for to breakout.
Do you see? It's only going to get better! Keep it up! However, about Volhov's Tradition — if I were you, I would appreciate the fact that you are still a young man and you have a lot of time ahead to set up your life. Facing the Three Trials is a deadly challenge. The handful of survivors carries the trauma for the rest of their lives. Even the winner is a completely changed person, and I dare say, not in a positive way. Just think thrice. Can you do this for me, Virr?
Mrs. Coordinator, if I want to be with Uhnna, there is no other option. Parents expect her to get married soon, so they're constantly pressuring her. If I let them impose some nobleman on her who won't ever appreciate how special she is, I won't be able to look in the mirror. I know you have materials that would help me decide. I also know, please don't be angry, that you come from the slums — some of the guys recognized you. This is why you understand me so well. You know that if I could afford it, I would be kneeling in front of you with a beautiful bouquet, but I can't even afford myself a pair of new pants.
Let me make that decision while Uhnna is still not married to some jerk. You have worked hard for the high position you currently hold, so please give me a chance to earn my own happiness in my own way — to try to do something for both her and myself. Let me forge our chance!
Virr…
A poster rolled up between the letters.
The most important thing: if I become a noble, for the rest of my life I will carry in my heart undying gratitude to the Mrs. Coordinator for what she has done for me. The guys let me get a full sleep. They motivate me. They said when I win they're going to get my name tattooed on their backs. I will copy a leaflet from the coordinator here, because I have to remember it all, and my muscle memory has not disappointed me so far.
The Tradition, or Trials, of Volhov, is an opportunity for members of the lower, middle, and upper classes to ennoble and therefore join the noble class and be awarded a property funded by the Noble Council, securing the laureate's life in abundance for the next hundred years. These attempts are an answer to the question of whether someone who was not born in the noble class in this life can join it through hard work and facing the unimaginable. The Volhov's Trials are carried out annually in the Historic Junction, and you have the right to take part in them once in a lifetime. However, it should be advised here that the vast majority, and sometimes all candidates, die in the process of undertaking the greatest and most satisfying of all challenges on Blue Ray.
The Volhov's Tradition states that there are four Trials in total: March of the Stars, Sewing a Melody, Dance of Heavy Boots, and Leaf. However, since the practice of the Fourth Attempt has so far led to the death of all candidates over the millennia — most likely because it was not completed by Volhov, who suffered death in hitherto unexplained circumstances a day after its alleged completion, today only three of these Trials are practiced. This allows for approximately three ennoblements per ten years. Only the one who completes all three trials first is ennobled, although not everyone can do so. There were even years when none of the candidates could even pass the first trial, i.e., March of the Stars.
I practice relaxation with my breath. Bruval taught me that. A muscular man, but he uses his brain a lot. I feel optimism circulating through my body to the sweet music from the street radio. I just hope to remember it tomorrow, on my first trial. Please, please, please, keep your fingers crossed for me!
I survived. Two hundred and two of us entered the Historic Junction. One hundred and thirty-nine came out. It was not a sports competition. It was something I cannot describe without thinking back to the two men whose deaths I saw so closely that I can still see the features of their faces. Suffice to say, it was like walking for hours over a bridge of needles above a bottomless abyss. I chatted with one of those who accompanied me. He was a strong and experienced man who had worked hard for what he achieved. A split second of inattention had turned into death before the next one passed. The other one took a misstep just at the finish. He was smiling — I'm not sure if he managed to realize in any part of himself that he was about to be annihilated. When I got to the finish, I vomited like the rest of them. So strong, so brave and so experienced. Poof! They are gone. I survived — weak and scared. It wasn't the achievement of my persistence; it was luck, nothing more. Uhnna's smile and kindness of the coordinator give me strength, but I already know that strength is not enough, and there are two more competitions ahead of me. Two more torments.
My name is Virr. Virr. I'm still Virr. I have to remember this. I must not forget it, whatever happens. Sewing a Melody. Or Imagine that you are sitting in a small room with dozens of rifles around you with the barrels pointed at you. In your hands, there are strings connected to their triggers. You have little time. You have to trace each string from your hands through the tangle of tangles. My name is still Virr. You have to trace it and see if it is attached to the trigger or the handle. You have to pull all the strings tied to the handle so that the rifles swing away from you. Then and only then will you be able to get out of there. Only that. VIRR. I couldn't forget, right? I am Virr. I know who I am. Only the clock is ticking. When you have a lot of strings and little time left, you are less careful. Bang! Bang! Bang! Every moment. Every time I pulled on the string, my mind mocked me, making me hear a deceptive Bang! Bang! Bang! Why did Volhov create something like this?!
I survived. There are nine of us left. I know I'm Virr. I have to forget about this competition. It has already happened and is no longer a threat to me. My mates from the dormitory don't want to hear about it. This time they cannot sleep because of me trembling and screeching under a sheet wet with my sweat and blood dripping from nerve-torn lips. The last competition is tomorrow, but I'm not sure if I want to face it after all this.
I am sobbing, while my mates brag about their tattoos with my name on them. The Heavy Boot Dance was like escaping in boots made of stone from a herd of hungry predators whose sole purpose is to feed on every inch of your body. It was not possible to escape because of the sheer strength of the legs and arms, though many have painfully taken the lesson too late. You had to use what you had at your disposal in the field. If you couldn't get away from the predatory cat, you could climb a tree. You knew the pursuit would be right behind you, so you had to have a rock handy and slam it in the head of the best to at least blind it. Best to kill.
Can you believe me, Mrs. Coordinator? I survived ALL THREE FUCKING TRIALS! I DID SOMETHING THAT NONE OF THOSE FUCKING NOBLEMEN WOULD EVER BE ABLE TO DO! I was second, so I lost — OH WELL! You know, I was thinking if it would be a better solution to persuade Uhnna to flee, but we both know that wherever I'd go with her, Blue Ray would find us. Even if not — for the rest of our lives we would be looking over our shoulders like some bloody criminals.
You wrote in that letter that I would have a mental taint for the rest of my life. True, but Volhov's Trials gave me something else as well. A sense of who I really am. The feeling that I am capable of great things. That's why I let go. I just want whomever it is to love her half as much as I do. I will disappear from her life. Maybe I'll write her a letter with some toxic thoughts to make her stop thinking about me — make her hate me. Maybe then she will be able to love another and feel the happiness she deserves by their side.
As a professional gunsmith, I know that what is called broken weapons is in fact usually very easy to restore. That 40-years-old plasma gun I bought at the bazaar took me two hours of work. I shouldn't even see a flash. But I will wait, until the dormitory is empty, so as not to traumatize my friends.
Virr, before you do something stupid, I'd like to talk to you. Face-to-face.
I leave it here for my friend Bruval in case I don't come back from what I intended. I have little, but you may need something anyway. In any case, you will know my fate tomorrow, but as a friend of mine, I want you to know my reasoning as well.
Thanks to the kindness of the coordinator, I know the following. Anyone who has passed Volhov's Three Trials has the right to approach the Fourth. It is written, "whoever survives the fourth attempt, shall pass to the highest rank of nobility." The highest nobility rank is the title of Sentinel. The problem was that no one who had approached the Fourth Attempt — "Leaf" — survived it. The Noblemen's Council, which simply continued the Tradition established by Sentinel Volhov, was attributed with ensuring that these Trials were merely a play-out to give the lower classes the illusion that they had a chance of ennoblement. To contain the rampant anti-establishment sentiment, the Noble Council excluded the Fourth Trial in Volhov's Tradition, claiming that Volhov himself had not completed it — contrary to his assurances. Ennoblement was made possible, due to the reduced difficulty of the trials. It was no longer for everyone, but only for the first one to make it through the Three Trials. However, the Fourth Attempt Hall still exists in the Historic Junction, and anyone who has passed the Three Trials has the right to face it. The Noble Council assumes that the passage of the Fourth Attempt would be an unprecedented event and very beneficial from the perspective of those who care not to increase the number of nobles. Such an event would allow the Noble Council to reintegrate the Fourth Trial into Volhov's Tradition and waive the necessity to ennoble virtually anyone, except perhaps once in several dozen, if not several hundred years.
This is what I am going to undertake tonight. I wanted to kill myself, but even though I probably have no chance of surviving Leaf, the shadow of the possibility that I would otherwise be ennobled forces me to choose this solution. Uhnna's parents want her to get married later this week. I saw her admirer and her eyes begging me for an intervention that I was not capable of. I owe her the approach to the Fourth Trial.
I have passed the Fourth Trial. I cannot describe it. It was by far the toughest challenge a mortal could face, but I have ceased to be one.
As I emerged from the Fourth Hall, the entire Noble Council gave me their best regards. I have become a Sentinel. The only one right now. Therefore I have become the ultimate authority on Blue Ray. I declared that ruling was not my goal, so the Noble Council breathed a sigh of relief. Uhnna's parents did not believe that I wanted to marry their daughter. They quickly rejected her admirer, and she hung around my neck and kissed me.
I will not, however, get rid of the blemish left in my heart by the Four Trials. The music that once relieved me is for me a collection of sounds that someone has taken to be art — whatever that term may mean. I smile at Uhnna, but I'm not the person she met. I am not what I was yesterday. I'm not even Virr. That's what the Noble Council told me after all. For I learned the whole truth from them.
Everything was planned. Every detail. Each stage of my journey. By one person I can't hold responsible for it — me. I am the reincarnated Volhov, and all Four Attempts served something far more resonant than deadly selection and the permanent psychological scarring of a group of daredevils. I don't remember my past life, but what I have learned makes some twisted sense.
Four thousand years ago, when Sentinel Volhov — an amateur archaeologist — ruled Blue Ray, he made a discovery of something terrifying and fascinating at the same time. No one is sure what it had been, but it caused him to develop a series of competitions later known as the Tradition or Volhov's Trials. Having designed the last competition, Volhov died. This is at least the official version of the events. According to the Noble Council, Volhov actually committed suicide, and contrary to what was thought of the Trials, they were perfectly designed so that only the future incarnation of Volhov would be able to do something that, for some reason, he couldn't, with something he had placed in the Fourth Hall of the Historic Junction. It was not about giving aspirants to the nobility a chance. The point was only that future Volhov could finish what he couldn't have in his previous life.
I finished the Fourth Trial. No one else can repeat it, so the formula of ennoblement will not change — what was in the Fourth Room is now inside me. I can shape reality besides going back in time and resurrecting. I don't know if I realized it would cost me the worst possible flaws, but seeing what I can do, I find that… I partially understand my former self, though I cannot in any way support the deaths of countless in the agony of the Historic Junction.
Please find attached the acts of ennoblement for you, Mrs. Coordinator, and my friend Bruval. I may have been Volhov, but I remain Virr and I remember my true friends.
Two months have passed since my last note. My wife Uhnna is pregnant. In two years, our children will be born. I want to be extremely happy about it, but I still can't get myself to the old optimism. Uhnna realizes that sometimes I don't feel comfortable not reacting to something nice or funny the way I used to. However, when asked, she claims that it does not bother her at all. Even if I couldn't read minds, I'd know it's a sweet lie. The fact is, I don't want to be an apathetic husband and father — I have to restore my old self.
I reached out to the Noble Council, saying I wanted to cancel the Tradition and make it easier to move between classes. They said they could not accept it. They don't trust me; they know too little about me and my abilities terrify them. I undertook the mission of protecting Blue Ray for two years, until the birth of our children. I will guard the safety of the entire planet and nearby space. The people cheered me today. I need to restore myself. I believe I can do it by committing to helping people.
It's been a year since I became a defender of Blue Ray. I have defended and saved countless lives. Music still doesn't make me joyful. A mysterious gate has appeared on one of our moons. A strange creature emerged, initially asking in a language completely unknown to me where an artist was. After I allowed myself to understand what it was saying, I replied that there was no artist. It stared at the blue star, as it occurred to it that whatever it had seen on the other side of the portal was merely a specter of our world. I'm not sure what I would find on the other side of the gate, so I turned it off and brought that creature down to Blue Ray, allowing it to understand our language. The Noble Council soon started calling it him the Painter, and they will soon decide what to do with him. It seems like the world is much greater and much more complex than what one could realize, standing on the surface of our planet.
Despite the passing of the year, I cannot change to enjoy myself. I visit Uhnna whenever I can. I love her the most in the world, but even that doesn't give me strength. If I really was a Volhov, why did I make myself an indelible blemish? Do I have a purpose in emotionlessness? Maybe what I absorbed made me lose the rest of my old self? Couldn't I have foreseen this as Volhov? Maybe I did, but for some mysterious reason, I decided that I am willing to pay the price? If so, I know one thing: I was wrong.
Two months remain until our babies are born. I'm afraid the defense service will not change anything. I am pathetic, but one little thing gives me a reason to believe that there is a chance to restore my joy. The opportunity lies in destroying social divisions. Once the Council hands over authority to me, I will destroy the class system immediately. Everyone will be able to love everyone. No one will have to go through Volhov's Trials anymore. Social divisions will be damned when I come back. Volhov could take pleasure in them. Virr hates them with all his heart. I wonder why I have not lost this emotion.
I shed a tear. One — I hate myself for that — but a real one — I would be hopeful if I remembered the feeling.
Uhnna is dead. Our children are dead.
Virr couldn't have written it. Should I go back to my old name? To the name of the tyrant who created something as terrifying as the Tradition? That heartless person? However, I cannot call myself Volhov. Something screams inside me not to do it — not to accept the tyrant. I want to give up on him like he made me give up on my emotions.
She fell ill when I was at the farthest frontiers. Nobody notified me. She died while I was patrolling the border. I can't resurrect or turn back time, but I could have healed her. They knew it very well. They wanted to ruin me — not to interfere with their powers, not to destroy the social divisions. They do not know, however, that ruin cannot be ruined. They will soon be removed from the table. Now I will ruin them.
I discovered the letter under my pillow. For my eyes only. I delay reading it because I'm afraid I will hate myself even more knowing that I should cry, and yet failing to shed another tear. Why do I still know hatred?
I recorded the speech with the full truth about Volhov, the Tradition, what happened to me, and the plots of the Noble Council. Mrs. Coordinator, I have secured your future by selecting you as a person who deserves the people's trust. The recording will sound in fifty-two hours across the planet. Please prepare and don't forget Bruval. Thank you once again for everything you have done for me. Whatever happens, I will never forget you.
I forced myself to read Uhnna's letter. Now, I know my purpose lies beyond its confines. I have a long journey ahead of me. I will tell you the same thing I told Bruval: when your last day comes, close your eyes, knowing I'll find you in your next life.
Vo Virr
I remember the gleam in your eyes the first time we saw each other. I immediately knew you felt the same thing I did. We soon learned that we couldn't be together, because we lived in separate worlds. But you didn't accept it. You pressed and pressed, and you came out of the slums. Both the joy and the fear of its evanescence grew in me. I knew my parents too well. Even if they wanted to, they could not change the law, and if we broke it, law enforcement would never let us go. I wondered how to say goodbye to you when the day of my wedding comes. The day I would have been sentenced to marry someone who could never replace you in my heart.
You didn't tell me you were going to take part in Volhov Tradition. You didn't want me to be scared, but I knew after each attempt that something was changing in you. You spoke much less and your gaze limped in the distance for long moments. Part of you would want to say that you love me, knowing that it might be your last chance to do so. You never had to. I've always known that.
Then the world smiled at us. I gained Virr, who was Volhov four thousand years ago. That joyful part of you is not lost, but it is hidden somewhere deep in your heart. I know it as well as I know your love for me and my own for you. Then we had our wedding and my pregnancy — again, one part of me was euphoric, while a different one was greatly dreaded. I didn't know what would happen. But now, I know you will find yourself. However, for me, the smile of the world is going to end soon. I have a few days left, and although I would like you to come back here and heal me, I don't feel like you are going to.
I've been having dreams lately. I don't know how much truth they bear, but I can hear music in them. It's joyful and lively. Colorful. It does not come from our world, but when I see your face when you hear that music, I see your old smile appearing on your face. This music brings back your old yourself. Virr overpowers Volhov. Then you see me and your sincerest joy awakens my memories from this life.
This dream has repeated itself eight times. I believe when you find the music that will awaken your old self, you will find me… and I will find you.
I love you the most in the world.
Forever yours,
Uhnna
Sapient
Destabilization
Extra-Dimensional
Immeasurable
