Chekist at the banquet of Anatoly Antonov

She took a step back, and suddenly Delia Asia Vieira saw a huge poster on the wall. It caught her attention because of its absurdity. It showed a figure in a white coat, with the face of Joseph Stalin, whose eyes were looking straight at the robotess, and a whistle was sticking out of his mouth. She couldn't understand what this strange, grotesque image was, but underneath it was the inscription: "MOVE IMMEDIATELY TO A NEW STAGE OF HISTORY."

Delia Asia Vieira stopped, looking at it in confusion. The word "new stage" sounded somehow familiar, but not in this context. It was too... ridiculous, almost threatening. Her intuition screamed that something was wrong here. She felt a chill run down her spine. But her curiosity, which always pushed her to explore unknown paths, got the better of her.

She wasted no time in moving closer, pulling the knife out of her pocket. In her hands, the blade was as hard and sure as her determination. With one swift movement, she cut the edge of the poster. The sheet tore off, revealing, to her surprise, a completely unexpected tunnel.

The black passage led downwards into the darkness, and Delia Asia Vieira, despite all her doubts, stepped into it. The feeling of unease did not leave her, but she was already too deeply involved in what was happening. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she began to move forward, at first cautiously, then faster. Under her feet she heard the dull sound of footsteps, and from time to time she felt a strange echo, as if something was following her.

She crawled through the tunnel, her breathing quickening. Time seemed to be nonexistent in this place. She could have been here for hours or just a few minutes, she didn't know. When the tunnel finally became more spacious, Delia Asia Vieira stood up and looked around. A corridor opened up in front of her, and it was surprisingly crowded. Young people in leather jackets, with chains and dark glasses, wandered from side to side, talking, laughing. Some of them seemed completely different from the people she would meet on the streets of the city – they resembled rockers, but with an overly rebellious look, as if they were trying to resist everything in this world.

"What is this? Some kind of underground society?" Delia Asia Vieira thought, her mind trying to catch any signs of normality in what was happening.

She approached one of the groups, watching their conversations, but no one paid attention to her. They walked silently down the corridor, creating the feeling that everything that was happening here was part of some strange performance.

She noticed that they were not just rockers, but people who seemed to be lost in their thoughts. Maybe they were here by chance too? Or was it all part of some secret experiment? Delia Asia Vieira felt her doubts growing, but she decided not to stop and move on.

And then she heard a conversation that caught her attention.

"I heard they started preparing a new stage in the dungeon," said one of the guys with long hair and a leather bracelet on his wrist.

"Yes, there will be something serious," the other answered. "They say it will all start with us all becoming part of something bigger."

These words, simple at first glance, made robotess freeze. Everything seemed strange, but now she understood that she had ended up in a place where there were no random encounters. Everything in her life was becoming connected and scary. What kind of place was this? Who were they all, and what was this "new stage"?

Delia Asia Vieira took a step towards them and approached the turn in the corridor. A wide hall opened up before her, as if it had been pulled out of another time, a place where time seemed to have stood still. Several people were sitting at tables, absorbed in their own thoughts, while soft music played in the background, creating a strange atmosphere of detachment. The tables were covered with simple tablecloths, on which lay glasses with half-drunk beer and empty plates. But what caught her attention was one man sitting at a distant table.

He was middle-aged, his face serious, almost marble-like, and he was wearing a formal suit that resembled the uniform of an old Chekist – black, almost blending into the darkness of this dungeon. His gaze was fixed on his plate, but as Delia Asia Vieira came closer, his eyes lifted and met hers. It was a look that was impossible to ignore – sharp, piercing, as if he saw right through her. Alien emotions filled that look: curiosity, wariness, or perhaps something much deeper and more mysterious.

Delia Asia Vieira felt her body as if it had given in to that gaze on its own and sat down at the table. She didn't understand why it happened, but her instincts made her wait. She waited for him to say something, but he remained silent, and his eyes continued to study her with such a cold attention that it was almost unpleasant.

Finally, as if it had been planned in advance, a fat man, obviously under great stress, approached their table. He was completely clumsy, his face was red from the heat, and he was dragging a huge suitcase behind him, which he could barely move across the floor. The fat man sat down opposite them, breathing heavily, and immediately laid out several recent issues of magazines on the table, wasting no time in ordering a beer.

"I need to pull myself together a little," he said, lifting the glass to his lips and leaning back in his chair.

He was clearly exhausted, as if he had been on a long journey, and was now trying to relax. His hands were shaking as he unfolded the pages of one of the magazines, but his gaze was focused.

The man in the suit, the one sitting opposite Delia Asia Vieira, remained silent, his face expressing a cold reserve, and it seemed that he did not intend to interfere in what was happening. He continued to study the robotess with the same gaze, as if her presence here was only part of some prepared plan.