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The verdict?
What verdict?
The verdict is...
our local jargon.
We believe the kids
decide which adults
are to live in the bright
future, and which are not.
You might at least cover your mouth.
Good idea. Thanks.
So I was saying,
isn't it clear?
Zinovy, the top wetter,
thanked Golemba today
for the great idea to include
a famous writer in the commission.
Did he?
And I had a feeling, on the contrary,
that they didn't approve of me.
I think
those wunderkinds...
I didn't mean the wunderkinds.
The wunderkinds have nothing
to do with it. But their teachers...
What teachers?
Special ones.
Wetters.
Why do you all keep saying:
wetters, wetters?
But no one can explain who they are!
- What is this?
- Why no one? I can.
Then tell me. Because all
I hear here are just some hints.
I will.
Its thought to be
a genetic illness.
Two weeks after the rain started
in February, all this began.
Their hair falls out.
Their skin gets yellow
and hard as rock.
There's some body transformation
on the cellular level going on.
A new species.
That's why they cover their faces.
Now they think
it's not infectious, but back then...
they thought it was an epidemic.
Then all kinds of
odd things began.
Miracles.
Hence the commissions.
That you know.
Its thought that either
they have an extra gene,
or, vice versa,
they're missing one.
Maybe
they're not humans at all anymore.
Who then?
I don't know.
Mirages, shells.
Come on, tell me,
have you ever
seen such people?
It only seems
they're harmless.
Just look
at that energy barrier!
True, their ethics
do not allow violence.
They forbid it for now.
All right, I got to go.
I think I wanted
to tell you something else, Victor...
No.
Oh yes, Victor...
You've got
to take sides.
Them or us.
Who are you with, master of culture?
Is it important?
It is important.
Because if you're with them,
then, excuse the pathos,
it looks like you're
a traitor to mankind.
No more, no less.
And mankind doesn't like traitors.
All right.
Good night.
Im going.
Oh, I forgot.
That Chinese girl, Golemba's
aide, was looking for you. Diana.
It might be urgent,
since it was late.
Though, it's not any of my business.
Goodnight.
- Hello?
- Victor? Its Diana.
I need your help badly.
Can you come down?
- Can you hear me?
- Yes, Ill be right down.
Thank you.
I see the sign.
Which way now?
- I got there. Ill call you back.
- Here?
Yes.
- Is he alive?
- Can't tell yet.
- Let's get him out of here.
- What?
I said,
we can't leave him here.
Diana, the door, quick!
Careful.
Hey, pal,
what is it there?
My buddy had too much to drink.
He needs some air. Just a second.
Help me.
Mr. Zakrevsky, security here.
Can you come over?
Someone's being
taken from the lab...
Driver, come over here.
Just a second, Ill be right there.
Its okay, Im coming.
- Do you hear? Come here!
- Im on my way.
How many times do I have to repeat?
Halt!
Stay where you are!
I'll shoot!
Where to now?
To the old train station.
Do you know where it is?
Yes, I know.
How is he? Alive?
He's dead.
Now Im sure.
What did they want from him?
Omnipotence, I guess.
To know the mysteries of science.
To get new weapons.
Or, maybe, money.
Or never-ending virility.
Human needs remain the same.
Open the door, Diana.
Victor, put him here.
Rest up.
When you leave, forget about this
door, the station, and everything.
Okay, I will.
- At last. Where's he?
- He's dead. We were too late.
You're not alone? You know
outsiders aren't allowed here.
I'll explain everything.
This man is from the commission.
He's a friend.
Victor, wait for me downstairs.
Like the Ritz during the Flood.
Its called ''Noah's Ark''.
Well?
I like it here.
Me, too.
There's an example of the survival
instinct for you, Victor.
The basic instinct.
- Look, a painting!
- Yes.
If we assume your idea
that climatic anomalies
dont just happen,
then the wetters could be

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