[November 1952]
"I don't believe you, doctor," Dmitry said with a troubled expression. Meanwhile, the old man in the white coat before him could only frown.
"Feel free to disbelieve me, Mr. Petronov. But that's the lab's diagnosis, along with my advice."
"Isn't there another way? At least something that can keep me going until I retire?"
"Unfortunately, no. Resigning is the only option."
Now Dmitry left the hospital gloomily. He hadn't suspected, let alone believed, that the cough he'd been experiencing for the past year was anything but ordinary. Until two days ago, while rehearsing, he coughed violently, coughing up a little blood, before collapsing from shortness of breath. He only woke up a few hours later, realizing he was in the hospital with his colleague. Sputum and blood samples were taken for testing, and Dmitry returned to his apartment after his colleague informed him that he had been on sick leave until the test results came back. And today was the day of the test results, and the results made Dmitry realize that the illness his mother had suffered from had now affected him.
The envelope he held contained the test results and a doctor's recommendation that Dmitry should withdraw to undergo intensive care. He had no choice but to go to the place where the envelope was to be delivered to the leader of the Alexandrov Ensemble, Boris Alexandrov.
***
After getting off the tram and walking for twenty minutes, Dmitry arrived at the headquarters of the Alexandrov Ensemble. He paused in front of the entrance, took a deep breath, and exhaled heavily. A slight phlegm felt in his dry throat. He shook off this strange feeling and went through the door.
Dmitry was surprised to see so many ensemble members gathered on the first floor, but none of them noticed him opening the door. And oddly, they were still wearing their military uniforms, even though they weren't about to hold a concert. The crowd was so large that Dmitry had to squeeze through until he could reach the stairs. The ensemble members were also crowded on the second floor, leaving Dmitry puzzled. "I don't think there are that many members, and what's happening that they've gathered like this?" He decided to find out later after meeting with the leader. The corridors of the ensemble leaders' offices, along with their staff members, such as the choir coaches, orchestrators, choreographers, and administrators, were completely empty.
Meanwhile, Boris Alexandrov was reading a poem he had just composed when Dmitry knocked on his office door. "Come in!" Boris ordered. Dmitry immediately opened the door, then closed it again before approaching Boris at his desk.
"What do you need?"
"I'm Dmitry Sergeevich, who took leave two days ago due to illness."
"Ah, it's you, Dmitry Sergeevich. How are you? I was worried the other day when you fainted during training," Boris asked gently, his face showing a hint of concern for his subordinate.
"Thank you. I'm fine... Sorry for bothering everyone," Dmitry apologised.
"It's okay. What about the test results? I heard from the other members that you had lab tests," Boris said. Dmitry reluctantly handed him the test results and the doctor's recommendation letter. Boris opened them and read them carefully. Boris's expression now showed even more worry and regret.
"Is that what the doctor said?" Boris muttered.
"..." Dmitry was speechless. He desperately hoped Boris would say no and tell Dmitry to stay. But Boris immediately said, "So where's your resignation letter?"
"Ah—" Dmitry snapped out of his reverie, "Ah... Sorry, I haven't written it yet. I only got it this afternoon."
"Then why didn't you write it yesterday? I thought you wanted to submit these two to support your reasons for resignation before I handed it over to the Cultural Center of the Soviet Union."
"Uh..." Dmitry was at a loss for what else to say, especially after seeing Boris's expression begin to grow irritated. Boris continued, "These lab test results are sufficient proof that it's too dangerous for you to continue working in the ensemble. I understand that, and of course I prioritize your health. But of course, there has to be the formality of a resignation letter. I can't do anything if the Cultural Center itself doesn't approve it due to insufficient requirements."
"Okay, I'll hand it to you tomorrow," Dmitry nodded. Boris quickly took out a piece of paper and a pen, and placed them on the edge of his desk.
"Do it now, Dmitry Sergeevich. I don't want to make my members suffer any longer." Boris ordered. Dmitry couldn't move anymore, he could only resignedly sit across from Boris and begin to compose formal sentences. Meanwhile, Boris tidied up the score he had just read while watching Dmitry as he continued writing. After ten minutes, Dmitry signed his name and handed the impromptu letter to Boris.
"Thank you. Now go home and rest. You'll be called by the administration later to schedule your resignation. I hope you get well soon. And perhaps when you're fully recovered... you can come back to us soon." Boris now spoke softly, which was a bit painful for Dmitry, as he had hoped to be sent straight back to the choir room.
"Oh, before I go... there's something I want to ask," Dmitry asked seriously.
"What is it?" Boris replied, still focused on reading Dmitry's resignation letter.
"What's going on in the building? So many ensemble members were gathered on the first floor earlier..."
"Really? As far as I know, they're still practicing for the concert at this hour. But maybe those are the orchestra members..."
"Ah, okay... Excuse me." Dmitry excused himself and left Boris's office.
***
His curiosity still burning, Dmitry finally mustered up the courage to ask one of the ensemble members on the fourth floor.
"Excuse me... why are you—" Dmitry's words stopped abruptly. He was about to tap the shoulder of a member who was as tall as himself, but it seemed like he wasn't patting anything... and his hand went right through the member's back. Dmitry stepped back in fear because the member didn't react. But he stopped again because another member walked right through him, then through the wall! Filled with terror, Dmitry descended the next two floors and ran to the training room, ignoring the fact that he was passing through many semi-transparent people. When the door opened, he saw something even more shocking.
None of the members noticed him enter. Not even his close friend Vadim, who chose to focus on the orchestra's coach, who was none other than Boris's younger brother, Vladimir Alexandrov. Not only that... He saw the former, deceased ensemble leader, Alexander Alexandrov, sitting next to Vladimir as he taught.
"No way!" Dmitry's terrified voice echoed through the training room, but still no one turned to look. Except... Alexandrov suddenly became aware of Dmitry's presence and rose from his chair. Dmitry slammed the training room door shut and tried to flee, but Alexandrov easily pushed through the door, revealing himself in front of Dmitry.
"Aaaaahh!!!!" Dmitry screamed loudly before he fell to the ground. He closed his eyes in fear.
"Get up, eagle. Calm down, I won't do anything to you. Maybe... I'll just explain a few things," Alexandrov said firmly but kindly, his voice resembling Boris's. Dmitry opened his eyes and saw that the former ensemble leader was as transparent as the members in the corridor who were now missing.
"Wait. Where are they all?" Dmitry asked. Alexandrov looked back. "Ah, the old members, you mean? They're practicing with my son Vova."
"Old member...? Why are you here? Haven't you already..."
"There's a lot to explain, of course. And I have to say my words over and over every time a member can see me and reply to my words. But that's okay. I always feel lonely, and want to talk to anyone..."
***
Now Dmitry and Alexandrov stood near the third-floor window. They stared at each other, perhaps because Dmitry still couldn't believe his own eyes. The ensemble leader he had known since 1933 was now transparent. And he seemed even more familiar than when he was alive, as he couldn't have familiarized himself with each of the hundreds of members. Alexandrov smiled kindly before saying, "You're right. I'm indeed gone. However, it seems many people haven't let me go, so I'm still stuck here. The closest examples, of course, are my children. My grandchildren. My wife. My friends. My subordinates... In fact, the burdens are so heavy, I feel like I'll only be able to return to the other world when my services begin to be forgotten. Which, unfortunately, hasn't been possible since I created the national anthem. Luckily, Sanya is here too, and the members of the ensemble, whose burdens are also heavy, so I'm not completely alone."
"Sanya..." Dmitry tried to remember the name Alexandrov had said, to which the old man replied, "My third child... or your deputy chorusmaster in 1940... Do you remember now?"
"Ah yes."
"That concludes my introduction. Now you can ask me anything, or tell me anything, if you like," Alexandrov offered. Dmitry said without further ado, "So, those members who were gathered from the first to fourth floors were spirits whose burdens were too heavy to carry? Whether they died from illness, death, or accidents?"
"That's right. But only those who died naturally, not murdered or in accidents. And not everyone has a heavy burden on their soul. Some have a lighter burden and could actually go to another realm, but choose to stay here because they feel at home."
"But are there also members who aren't here? I mean, they've chosen to find a way to fly to another realm?"
"Yes, of course. It's their choice. I wish I could do that too, but my soul is too heavy to even jump..."
"And how did you know immediately that I could see you and vice versa? Even though the spirits don't see me..."
"Because you're still fully alive. Almost all the members preferred to remain silent until you were truly dead. However, we all immediately knew someone would be 'going' next, and they were on their way to the training room. And yes, it was you. A living person can't make a door open silently. A dead person doesn't need to open a door."
"Wait, so I've become a spirit? B-but... your son, Boris, saw me!!" Dmitry panicked.
"You've been hovering between death and life, to be precise. It's quite unique, in that you can be seen by my son but not by anyone here. Could it be because you had some business with him beforehand?"
"Oh... yes. I resigned because I was diagnosed with stage two pneumonia. But... more precisely, Comrade Boris asked me to resign first because of that..."
"He acted correctly. I'm grateful he didn't cause anyone any harm..."
"Why? But I still feel at home here!"
"Your body isn't, unfortunately... But if you do feel at home, come here when you've taken your last breath. I and all the members will welcome you, of course."
Dmitry now turned to the open third-floor door. It was time for lunch. A sea of people was pouring out of a single room. But Dmitry could see the difference between the living and the dead. And the expressions of the deceased weren't as cheerful as the living.
"But can any of the living members see them?"
"Yes, some. But they can't communicate with us. Only those near death can."
"Last question... what have you been doing all this time? Surely you've been stuck here for six years. There are even members who died long ago, over ten years ago. You can't just sit there, can you?"
"Good question. What we, the deceased ensemble members who are stuck here, do... is accompany the ensemble wherever they go. Not like guardian angels, but more like extra members who mysteriously appear. I just learned how some of the members who passed away before me do. They gather around during workdays, when the coach is giving instructions, and during concerts. After the concert and rest day, they gather in this hallway. Waiting for the next training session to begin and guarding this building."
The audience may only see five hundred members singing. But they can't see that there are actually a thousand singing. Some on stage, some in the audience..."
"So they sing too? Including you?"
"Oh no. I watch my two children. And sometimes I conduct. Gradually, they've gotten better than me, so lately I've just been watching. I'm proud of them."
"It's a little scary... but now I understand why so many people say the atmosphere around us is so strange... in a good way. It feels very serious, like a military presence, but also full of joy. I don't know if it's the composition of the songs or our voices..."
"Those two are true. I'll add one more: the spirits of the members who live here add to the majestic atmosphere. Their presence makes the audience feel close to the ensemble. They feel like they're among the ensemble even though they're not members. Now, it's your choice: whether to stay here or try to reach the other side, eagle."
"..."
"You don't have to decide now. You still have time to enjoy your life. Just make sure those closest to you accept your departure quickly. I prefer it if the ensemble members' burdens are lightened and they have the opportunity to leave forever. Don't be like me, eagle."
A white light suddenly appeared from Alexandrov's body, so dazzling that Dmitry covered his eyes with his left hand. When the light disappeared, Alexandrov disappeared too. The members he knew had died were also gone.
Was it all just a hallucination, or had he just visited another side of the world he inhabited?
"Dima! There you are!!" His best friend, Vadim, suddenly appeared from behind and hugged Dmitry. "Honestly, buddy. I was so worried about you. I hope you have good news that you'll be back singing tomorrow!"
And Dmitry now felt that the choice Alexandrov had offered him had to be made quickly before he could breathe.