Now they descended to the third level underground.

"Do you have any experience with so-called 'altered states of consciousness'?" asked Karpov.

"No."

"I thought so," he replied, exchanging knowing glances with his assistant. Then he shrugged his shoulders and continued, "today, scientists are trained without any experiential foundation. How can anyone work in comparative religions without understanding the religious psychological experience? Ah, humanists, mere humanists..." he concluded, shaking the ruffled lion's mane that was his hair.

As they emerged from the freight elevator, Tokarev wondered about how accurate Karpov had been about his formal training.

They entered a small room that resembled the receiving area in a medical clinic. Karpov and Yuri seated themselves face to face, each in a separate sofa. A small table with flowers and ashtrays separated the two men. The lighting had a slight bluish hue, and there was a faint smell of ozone in the air. The third gentleman had disappeared through a side door.

"You are of the opinion that -- as was said a hundred years ago -- 'religion is the opiate of the masses.' Correct?"

Yuri did not answer because he was trying to understand where Karpov was heading. "Religion," he thought silently, "was that, something less, and something more."

Karpov continued, "In those days neither amphetamines nor LSD-25 had been discovered. Opium creates unreal and pleasurable conditions. It disarms you -- you become unconcerned, it calms you down. Do you perhaps believe that the revolution in Iran corresponds to those states of consciousness?"

Karpov drummed his fingers on the small table, scrutinizing Tokarev through his thick glasses, as he continued on this strange line of thought.

"We don't have enough time to induce in you the different states of consciousness provoked by religious practices. However, we will try to guide you to these phenomena through a synthetic experience... Of course, we aren’t going to make you imitate a whirling dervish. You won’t have to jump around like a macumba dancer in Brazil, or a voodoo-ist in Haiti. You won't be asked to perform some African tribal dance. You are not going to ingest soma, or hallucinogenic mushrooms; you will not force your breathing as in yoga, or conduct exhausting physical exercises and fasting, you will not torture yourself with medieval practices. We are going to go directly to the root."

Yuri surmised that Karpov and his colleagues must have been able to reproduce -- within their laboratories -- phenomena that he had so often wondered about. At the same time, he was surprised by how quickly these scientists could adapt to new situations. He suspected that the team that later formed the committee had begun to work only five months ago. This was much too little time for developing technologies to understand the issues that had perplexed the world of culture for a thousand years.

"What exactly did you mean when you said it would be a synthetical experience?" Yuri asked suddenly.

"Almost all of the altered states of consciousness are the result of a process of depriving the neurons of oxygen, and of disarranging cerebral enzymes. You may research any ritual practice you desire, and it will always lead you to the same results. It doesn't matter if you get there through the use of chemistry, breathing, mechanical means, asceticism... You will always obtain the same results: enzymatic disorder and oxygen deprivation of the neurons!"

Karpov became so excited by his own explanations that he finally stood up. He began to walk all over the room like a bear inside a cage, and his voice thundered.

"If you die, Tokarev, if you are pronounced clinically deceased and then revived within ten or fifteen minutes, you have a 50% chance of believing that you left your body. It is also probable that you will talk about a light that spoke to you. Something like the light of UFO's, or of Moses' burning bush, or that other light that knocked Saul right off his horse."

Yuri began to see links between numerous legends and myths. He felt as though, for the first time in his life, some secret code were being revealed to him, and everything began to mesh together. But Yuri wanted to know more.

"There are many 'sacred' books," Yuri observed, "that talk about these phenomena without any of the intermediary conditions you have described."

The psychologist stopped abruptly and then began to raise his voice, apparently trying to control his fury.

"Please do not interrupt me! Thousands of wise scholars throughout the world would give anything to hear what I have to say, and you dare to interrupt me?

"Let's go one step at a time. The Tibetan Book of the Dead, which you know better than I do, describes a procedure to liberate the soul at the moment of death. We are talking about the position of "the resting lion." The priest presses upon an artery in the subjects' neck, and then this dying person believes he travels through different regions of light. Oxygen deprivation, Tokarev! Even in the United States they know about these things. Meanwhile, what are our distinguished scholars doing? They are establishing relationships between superstitions and the economic conditions of the societies that created them. My dear friend, that is like working with tools of the early Paleolithic era."

Yuri reminded himself that he was dealing with a reckless and notorious member of this gang called the committee. Nevertheless, he had to admit that in spite of Karpov's tendency for deviation -- which shined through like the sun -- the man was brilliant, and so was the entire group that was being sponsored by the Ministry.

"Americans have worked with drugs for many years," Karpov continued. "They have even used Meduna's Mixture to provoke altered states. You merely breathe a gas with unusual proportions of oxygen and carbon dioxide, and suddenly some Wall Street scoundrel feels mystically enraptured." Karpov paused dramatically.

"We know all about this," he slowly added, "but we have also found other forms that do not require oxygen deprivation. For example, Buddha, Jesus and Mohammed journeyed to places where they could meditate in silence. What for, what were they doing there? I'll tell you. They were suppressing data from the senses, something very similar to what happened to astronauts when they could not experience gravity."

"Professor Karpov," Yuri dared to interrupt once more, "I don't see the relation."

Karpov return to his sofa ceremoniously. Then, as if revealing a secret:

"Did you know that several American astronauts later dedicated themselves to religion? Did you know that cosmonaut Gagarin believed that he had seen UFO's? Did you know that Professor Nietzsky detected numerous extra-sensory phenomena under zero-gravity conditions?"

Karpov was looking at Yuri intensely, expecting an indication of surprise, but Yuri pretended to feel neutral.

"I don't see the relation," he repeated.

"Why can't you see the relation? Can't you see that when you eliminate the signals received by the human body -- either through zero-gravity or lack of stimuli -- that the nervous system cannot operate normally? When there is a lack of signals, the consciousness is altered. So here we are no longer talking about oxygen starvation, nor enzymatic disorder. We are dealing with a lack of electro-chemical impulses. Only the memory is providing information, so the subject vividly recalls scenes from the past -- or else amplifies his fantasies. Think about it, electro-chemical impulses!"

Karpov lit a cigarette. He offered one to Yuri, who accepted and took advantage of the pause in the conversation.

"The experience of altered states of consciousness could surely permit someone to understand the religious phenomena from a psychological point of view, but does not explain how religions emerge. Why do people suddenly crave for mysticism? This comment that I am making is related, directly and concretely, to the committee's main concerns," Yuri observed.

"Tokarev, I will reply that when everyday problems pound away on the nervous system of an individual, or of entire nations...when these problems are too intense, there is a blockage of information. What is produced is the suppression of data, and this operates as a form of sensory deprivation. For example, the human being can be surrounded by hundreds of other people, and yet feel alone and isolated. Do you get it, comrade?"

"No, comrade, I do not get it," Yuri shot back, sarcastically.

"Well, you should understand this once and for all. You can become ill, or commit suicide, or go crazy. You can escape from reality in many different ways...and one way is through religion. This religiosity can take a contemplative path, or an aggressive path, depending on the general conditions surrounding the phenomena."

Yuri had come across a coherent system of explanations. He was fascinated that everything appeared to fall in place so neatly. It also suggested the precise line of research that had been proposed by the committee. But he wanted to make sure, even if this provoked the wrath of Karpov.

"That has not yet been proven!" Yuri exclaimed.

Karpov turned red. He took a long drag from his Karelia cigarette. Then he stood up and approached a panel that was attached to the wall. He pressed a button and said:

"Exactly. We want you to have a practical experience of altered states of consciousness so that you can conduct your field study with a proper set of tools. They tell me you will be visiting places that appear to be simmering with new mystical phenomena."

A sliding door now opened. It showed another room completely full of control equipment. The other psychologist was there, managing the controls. Yuri arose and followed Karpov.

"Now," Karpov explained, "you will enter the chamber of sensory suppression, also known as 'the chamber of silence.' You will be isolated from the world, except for us, who will remain at the controls. You can hand me over all of your belongings..."

Yuri disrobed completely and left his clothes upon a chair. Karpov then gave him a green tablet and asked him to dissolve it slowly in his mouth. Then he turned a large wheel and pushed open a metal door. He invited Yuri to step inside; Yuri entered the chamber and the door closed quietly behind him.

The walls in this room appeared to be totally covered with rubber, with some type of carpet that was light gray in color. The light had a slight bluish tinge, and allowed him to see an enormous tank resting on a platform. A thick cloud of steam emerged from the tank, and it slowly extended outward.

"Tokarev!" yelled Karpov over the loudspeaker.

"I can hear you."

"Climb the little ladder and get into the water. It will not scald you, it's at 37 degrees centigrade. After a few minutes you will no longer feel it because it is exactly at the same temperature as your skin."

Yuri entered the pool and sat on one of its corners.

"We are now filming you in our closed circuit TV," Karpov continued. "Look at the ribbon that crosses the pool. It will keep your body floating. Place it on your shoulders and then stretch out in the water. You are not going to sink because the water has a very high concentration of salt. The ribbon will prevent you from floating off and touching the sides of the pool, in order to avoid tactile sensations."

As he was following instructions, Yuri asked about the sensation of the ribbon, the lights, and other stimuli.

"The light of the ozone devices are used to break up fatty molecules," Karpov replied, "which are to a large extent responsible for odors. The pill I gave you is made of chlorophyll and will deodorize your mouth. The lights will be turned off when you are floating adequately... You will hear no sounds, unless we wish to inform you of some new developments. You will soon stop being aware of the ribbon, according to the law of the constantly diminishing stimuli. The same will happen with your sensation of the water. Nevertheless, your face, the upper part of your chest, and your knees will not be submerged. However, the sensation between those parts of your body that are under water and those that are not will homogenize, because of the steam which will eventually produce 100% humidity in the air, and at the same temperature as the water. Do you understand?"

"Understood. What do I do now?"

"Do not stir the water. We are going to control two rods from where we are. One of them will be placed very close to your head, but will not touch it. The other will be an inch or so away from your chest and the side of your body. These rods, although they won't touch you directly, will provide us with brain scan signals, cardiographical signals, and signals from your spinal system... If something goes wrong you will hear a sound even though your ears sink beneath the surface."

Yuri was now floating, keeping his ears above the water. Presently he saw the two rods moving towards him and still had time to hear the final instructions.

"The steam no longer allows us to observe you on our screens. Remember, if you want to spoil everything, all you have to do is whistle, touch the sides of the pool, or pinch yourself. There are hundreds of ways of preventing sensory deprivation. But you won't be that clumsy, will you?"

That is the last thing Yuri heard. He allowed his head to sink back. The water now covered his ears and he began to float comfortably. His arms and legs now separated, even though the water's slight undulating motion still moved them rhythmically. He could no longer hear the two psychologists' voices over the loudspeakers.

"Name of subject: Tokarev. 25 May 1979 at 8:50 a.m. Water temperature: 36.5 degrees centigrade. Air temperature: 36.5 degrees. Average air humidity: 92 percent. Atmospheric pressure: 755 millimeters. Type of flotation: conventional. Brain wave: altered due to agitated breathing. Rapid eye movement due to loss of reference points. Cardiographical data: normal. Spinal chord data: muscular tensions in cervical and abdominal regions."

"Turn ozone devices off," requested a second voice.

"Off."

"Turn off heating in the tank and in the atmosphere."

"Off."

"Turn circulation of water off."

"Off."

"Connect automatic temperature control."

"On."

"Turn lighting off."

"Off."

"Switch speakers off."

Darkness, silence, quietude.

Yuri began to see a wheel turning around. He and Irina were tied to the wheel as it rolled through the countryside. Maria was somewhere near, and was shouting 'Boris, Boris!' A whistle similar to that of a train brought him back to reality. He had begun to fall asleep, and Karpov, no doubt, had detected that from the brain scanning devices, sounding the alarm to wake him up. He was awake in total darkness, and in the deepest silence. The memory of the whistle brought up the image of a figure that became sharper and clearer. The famous Plisetskaia was dancing marvelously at the Bolshoi Ballet. She was playing the role of Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, and the whistle of the train was a foreboding of her death. Suddenly, the dancer transformed into an enormous butterfly that was floating over him, perhaps a yard away. Multi-colored and incredibly luminous. Yuri was startled and stirred the water, but the butterfly remained, flapping its wings. Yuri understood that it was following the rhythm of his breathing. He held his breath and the enormous insect became paralyzed, floating over him. Yuri thought about how the butterflies in psychedelic art were nothing more than externalizations of the pulmonary registers, especially in hallucinatory states produced by drugs. Something similar to the weird creatures seen by alcoholics in their delirium tremens. Snakes must relate to the digestive tract. Spiders might be translations of the patient's registers of the kidney or the liver, and so on. The butterfly disappeared abruptly and everything was quiet. His brain activity had become strongly vigilic. He thought that Karpov would perceive an increase in beta wave activity, and conclude that Yuri was trying to prevent the very phenomena that Karpov wished to illustrate. He decided to relax profoundly and to let his associative chains run free...

His arms had enlarged by several feet, perhaps. At the end of his arms he could feel very thin fingers, and his hands were whirling like propellers. Nothing was stirring, yet his hands continued to turn faster and faster, while his body became larger. That was it: his body had no limits because it was at the same temperature as the water and of the entire room. He decided to expand his body towards where the two psychologists were now working. He felt a sensation of boards breaking, giving way. Then, a strong wind blew on his face, and he saw a tunnel, yes, he was sliding through the tunnel at great speed. At the end there was a light waiting for him, and it became bigger, and brighter. Suddenly he saw his body floating in the water. He had a very real sensation of floating on air. He experienced a strong desire to fly home, to see what was happening over there.... But he found himself again inside the pool. Karpov was measuring his beta waves. Karpov was controlling him. Karpov was spying on him because he was part of the conspiracy. Everybody was against him.

He laughed loudly. Now he understood that they wanted to turn him into a robot. They were brain-washing him. It was obvious, the green pill, the silent glances between the two psychologists. They wanted to kill him, kill Irina, Vladimir and little Sofia... because he knew what was going on. That is why, that is why, that is why.... they were stretching his arms, and his legs, and his penis was erect, and it was them, them, them...

"Nooooooh!" he yelled out.

The lights, and the sound of the whistle were turned on. Karpov burst into the room, yelling.

"You irresponsible ass! You ruined everything."

He grabbed Yuri's arm and tried to pull him out of the water, but Yuri broke away and sat at the opposite end of the pool. Yuri was whimpering and shivering slightly, while the steam escaped quickly from the room.

"Yuri," Karpov entreated gently as he realized what was happening. "Yuri, you must have gone through a paranoid crisis. You are now acting out a schizophrenic ritual. Don't worry. These are your own fears, your own mental contents that have been amplified by the sensory deprivation. Remember the mystics in their moments of isolation: they were tempted by the devil, or presenced furious battles with monsters or other extraordinary beings. Every one has his own psychic fauna and flora. Come on, connect now with he outside world."

The other psychologist soon arrived with a goblet totally filled with a transparent liquid.

"Drink," he said, and offered Yuri the goblet.

Yuri raised his head. His eyes were wide open, and his pupils were enormously dilated.

"What is it?" he asked, and his voice trembled.

"It is not poison, nor a drug," said Karpov smiling. "Not for me anyway..."

"What is it?" demanded Yuri in a threatening voice.

"Vodka, my friend. But if you don't drink it, I will."

Saying this, Karpov swallowed the vodka in one gulp. He returned the goblet to his assistant. This joke ended with a ceremony.

"I bow before you," said Karpov.

"Da, tovarich, da," the assistant replied, and also bowed. Then they threw the goblet backwards and it smashed against the walls of the other room.

Yuri was beginning to recover.

Two hours later, Professor Tokarev had finished dictating his experiences at the small entrance room. Karpov looked pleased as he received the manuscript.

"Do you know how long you were in the sensory deprivation chamber?" Karpov asked Yuri.

"About four hours."

"No, only ten minutes, Professor."

Yuri was ready to leave, but wanted to know if it were possible that he really had been out of his body when he felt that he was floating on air.

"We have studied these hallucinations very well," Karpov replied.

"And if I told you that in this hallucination I traveled to my house, and there I saw my young Vladimir cut his finger with a bread knife?"

"Just the same chain of hallucinations. Get real, Tokarev, no 'thing' leaves your body. These are just hallucinations."

Yuri felt something difficult to describe at that exact moment, and without even thinking, suddenly asked:

"Is there a telephone nearby?"

"Of course."

They walked into another room. Yuri dialed out and the ringing sound could be heard through the loudspeaker. The call was answered, and young Vladimir's voice was amplified by the sound system.

"Who is it?" the child asked.

"Your father. Don't you recognize me Vladie?"

"Daddy, daddy... when are you getting home?

The two men smiled as they heard the childish voice. What happened next left both of them paralyzed.

"Daddy, you must come right away... I've cut my finger with a bread knife."

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