“More on you, Ivan Vladimirovich,” Lekha giggles, but immediately takes on a serious look when Vanya growls:

- Fucked up, right?

I press down on my closed eyelids, as if trying to relax my eyes, and look back at the identikit.

In the features of the face of a stranger, one can really guess Doronin.

Both brothers.

“Looks like the experiment failed,” Ivan says, “let’s go.”

And I follow, thinking how much my mind is occupied with the policeman, that everyone around is taking on his features, on purpose or not.

He escorts me to his office, pours coffee and pushes a bowl of cookies.

- So it turned out...