A river in April morning light — partially iced over in the shaded sections, open dark water where the sun reaches. A bridge in the middle distance. An industrial city skyline behind, pale grey-blue sky. The atmosphere is a day between one thing and another. Photorealistic, cinematic, cool April morning light, documentary photography style, shallow depth of field, muted blue-grey palette.

Yekaterinburg in April is a city that has not yet decided what season it is. The Iset River was partially frozen in the shaded stretches and open water in the direct sun. I noted this at 07:43. I did not write anything else in the notebook until much later.

The Pocket

I have the piece of paper with Belov’s coordinates in the inside pocket of my coat. I checked that it was there at 07:43, again at 09:12, again at 11:30. I have not opened it.

This is not avoidance. I am not certain what it is.

Yevgeny

Dr. Yevgeny Konstantinovich retired to Yekaterinburg eleven years ago. He lives twelve minutes from the station. I had not planned to see him, but at 08:17 I sent a message: I am in the city, leaving this evening, if you have twenty minutes I could come by.

He replied at 08:31.

“TWENTY MINUTES IS NOT ENOUGH. COME FOR BREAKFAST. BRING NOTHING.”

He opened the door in a greenhouse apron. There were three thermometers visible from the entrance. He directed me to the kitchen table without comment.

I told him about the meeting. He listened without interrupting, which was unusual for him. When I finished he was quiet for a moment. Then:

“A Defense Ministry unit. Of course. In forty years I never considered that possibility. Which means I was not paying attention.”

I said most people were not paying attention.

“That is not reassuring. Most people are not writing papers about it.”

He had not yet seen the Ogarev email. I showed it to him. He read it twice, handed the phone back.

“This person knows something,” he said. “Whether that is good or bad depends entirely on what they intend to do with it.”

I said I had not replied.

“Good. Do not reply until you know who you are replying to.”

He made a second round of tea and told me about his tomatoes for fifteen minutes. The fourth thermocouple had resolved the problem he had been investigating since February. He was satisfied. I found this, in context, a significant relief — something in the world continuing to behave predictably.

He walked me back to the street at 10:54. At the corner he stopped and said:

“The paper is good, Tolya. Send me the revision when they ask for one.”

I said I would.

The Evening

The return train departs Yekaterinburg-Passazhirsky at 18:30. I spent the afternoon at a café near the station, working on nothing in particular. The coordinates stayed in my pocket.

I wrote to Mikhail at 16:03: I am heading home. He replied at 16:11: “Good. Call when you are back.”

I boarded at 18:17. The train pulled out at 18:31 — one minute late. I noted this.

The Urals were still visible from the window when it got dark. Then they were not.

Current status:

  • Yevgeny: visited (09:00–10:54); informed of Belov meeting and Ogarev email; “Do not reply until you know who you are replying to”; paper assessed as good
  • Coordinates: still in pocket, not yet looked up
  • Return train: boarded 18:17, departed 18:31
  • Ogarev: no reply sent; no reply received
  • JETP Letters: no acknowledgement yet (day 3)
  • Mikhail: notified, brief
  • Emotional state: in motion again

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