Don’t, son,” begged the elderly stranger whom Artem was hurrying to get to the hospital. “They won’t accept me there anyway. I’ve been there many times with complaints… It seems my time has come… Leave me, son!”
Artem carefully wound the wire onto a reel and loaded it into the van. His partner, sitting at the wheel, waved at him to hurry up. After the reel, came a toolbox and bags with necessary equipment. After finishing the loading, Artem sighed tiredly, shook the dirt off his work gloves, and climbed into the passenger seat.
“Let’s go,” he said lazily.
“Well, ready?” his partner asked, starting the engine.
“As always,” Artem answered, fastening his seatbelt.
“You’re especially quiet today,” his partner noted, pulling onto the road.
“Just tired,” Artem admitted. “This job wears me out.”
“Yeah, I understand,” his partner nodded. “But on the other hand, nobody forces you. You chose this path yourself.”
“That’s true,” Artem agreed. “But sometimes I just want to rest.”
“We all want that,” his partner smirked. “But, unfortunately, there’s no time for rest.”
“Definitely,” Artem sighed.
Thus began another working day for Artem. For the third month, he had been working as an electrical fitter, laying endless wires every day. Recently, a terrible hurricane had hit his city, knocking down all the poles like matchsticks. Since then, Artem’s life had turned into an endless race: working around the clock to restore electricity to the people’s homes.
He and his colleagues practically lived at work, and when they closed their eyes at night, all they saw were the black silhouettes of wires humming with tension. Still, Artem tried to do his job flawlessly.
Artem had recently returned from the army and immediately found a job in his field, which he had studied in technical school. He had never had a family: he was an orphan and grew up in an orphanage. There, among other abandoned children, he spent his childhood and adolescence. Later, he enrolled in school, then served in the communications troops. That was his former life, and Artem did his best to forget about it. But it wasn’t easy.
Finally, they arrived at the location. Artem, wiping his sleepy eyes, got out of the car. His partner, Mikhail, told him to unload the van. Misha stuck his head out of the window and lit a cigarette.
“Others will arrive soon. We need to get ready before they do.”
Artem nodded, grabbed the toolbox, and began unloading it. Misha, watching him, asked:
“How did you sleep?”
“Badly,” Artem replied, trying to keep the heavy toolbox steady. “These dreams again.”
“What dreams?”
“Well, you know…” Artem hesitated, not wanting to go into details.
Misha smirked:
“About you becoming a superhero and saving the world?”
“Almost,” Artem mumbled, trying not to laugh.
Misha laughed:
“Have you ever tried doing something instead of just dreaming?”
“I try,” Artem replied, lowering the box to the ground. “But it doesn’t always work out.”
After unloading the van, Artem stacked everything by the new pole and, sitting on the grass, started putting on his ‘climbers.’ Soon, a UAZ full of workers arrived, and after finishing his coffee, Artem climbed the pole. By lunchtime, he and his colleagues had managed to lay almost half a kilometer of cable.
“Come on, guys,” their boss urged, arriving to check on their progress. “Why’s it taking so long? We need to finish this section by tomorrow, and we haven’t even done half!”
Artem wanted to make a sarcastic remark but decided not to get involved. He had only recently started working here, and any conflict could backfire on him. Suppressing the urge to joke, he doubled his efforts, skillfully wielding the pliers. After standing for a bit, the boss finally got back in the car and left. Everyone exhaled in relief.
“He finally left,” Misha said, making an exaggerated gesture. “The smartest guy around, thinks the whole plan’s on fire. As if we’re just out here goofing off!”
“Of course,” Artem replied without looking up from his work. “We’re out here working from morning till night.”
“Right,” Misha smirked. “This is the hardest project of our career! We couldn’t do it without overtime.”
“Exactly,” Artem nodded, connecting another wire. “But he’s in a hurry. As if everything’s going to fall apart without him.”
“Alright, don’t complain,” Misha waved his hand. “The important thing is that he’s gone.”
“That’s for sure,” Artem agreed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “At least we’ve got a couple of hours to rest.”
“Yeah,” Misha sighed. “But then it’ll start…”
“Don’t start,” Artem interrupted. “Let’s have coffee when we finish?”
His thoughts were interrupted by a sight unfolding right under him. A bent old woman, dressed in torn clothes, was walking past the pole where Artem was sitting. She was swaying from side to side and often stopped, bending even further.
“Hey, grandma,” Artem shouted. “It’s dangerous here! Things might fall from above!”
The old woman didn’t even flinch.
“Do you hear me? It’s dangerous! Hurry up and pass!” he yelled louder. Finally, the old woman heard him and started moving again, but a few meters later, she fell and froze.
Seeing this, Artem quickly climbed down. Taking off his ‘climbers’ on the go, he rushed to the old woman and turned her onto her back. When he saw her pale face with blue lips, he panicked.
“My heart…” she whispered, her eyes still closed. “My heart hurts…”
Picking her up in his arms, Artem ran to the car. He laid her on the back seat and sat behind the wheel.
“We need to call an ambulance…” Misha said, running up to him.
Artem sharply stopped him:
“We don’t have time to wait! We’re going to the hospital!”
Starting the car, he sped off down the street.
On the way, Artem remembered a case from the army. Once, during a forced march, a guy from his unit suddenly collapsed, clutching his chest. Artem and his comrades dragged him to the car using improvised stretchers made from their rifles. The guy’s name was Sergei, and he died on the way to the hospital. Later, it was discovered that he had a congenital heart defect that should have excluded him from military service. Artem remembered how Sergei was wheezing, holding his left side, and moving his blue lips. Now, the same thing was happening to the unknown old woman lying behind him. Artem did everything he could to prevent her from meeting the same fate as Sergei.
Stopping the car at City Hospital No. 1, Artem pulled the old woman out of the car and ran inside. His shout echoed through the building as he waited for the staff. After a while, a nurse came down and, approaching him, asked angrily why he was making such a noise.
“Can’t you see?” he shot back rhetorically.
The nurse lazily waved her hand toward the hallway.
“The emergency room is there,” she said indifferently. “Go there.”
Artem shuddered with indignation. He gently placed the old woman on a row of chairs and began scolding the nurse.
“We don’t have time!” he yelled. “She’s dying!”
The nurse demanded the patient’s documents. Artem frantically started searching through the pockets of her gown.
“Nothing,” he said, looking up. “No documents, no insurance.”
The nurse shrugged.
“We can’t accept her without them. Rules are rules.”
Artem clenched his fists and demanded that the head doctor be called. The nurse shot him a contemptuous look and disappeared behind the door.
A few minutes later, she returned with a short, plump man in a white coat. He appeared to be the head doctor. His small black eyes scanned Artem and the old woman, and his lips, framed by a sparse beard, twisted into a grimace of disgust.
“What’s all this noise about?” he asked, keeping his distance.
Artem briefly explained the situation.
“The nurse did everything correctly,” the head doctor said coldly. “We don’t take in homeless people.”
Artem jumped up and grabbed him by the collar.
“And homeless people aren’t people, right?” he hissed, spitting.
The head doctor recoiled in fear, pulling away from his hands.
“I don’t know anything!” he squealed. “Get out of here, or I’ll call the police!”
Straightening his crumpled coat, he turned and headed for the stairs. The nurse followed him.
Artem picked up the old woman again, and she weakly whispered:
“Stop bothering with me… I don’t have long left.”
“Don’t waste your strength,” he replied, and carried her out of the hospital. Sitting in the car, he nervously wondered what to do next. Suddenly, an idea came to him. Smiling, he started the engine and sped down the street.
He stopped the car again, this time in front of a private clinic, and went inside, carrying the old woman in his arms. This time, there was no waiting: a young nurse greeted him with a smile at the entrance. She quickly completed the paperwork and called two orderlies who took the patient on a stretcher.
“Ten thousand rubles,” the nurse smiled.
Artem pulled out his bank card, which had only his salary from the day before. A third of it was now going to pay.
Artem sat down tiredly on a chair to rest. The nurse offered him coffee.
“I won’t refuse,” he sighed.
She walked over to the coffee machine, filled two cups, and handed one to Artem. Sipping the hot drink, he looked at the girl. Her red hair was tied in a ponytail, and though her face shone with a smile, it seemed sad. This was especially noticeable in her green eyes, framed by long lashes.
“What’s your name?” Artem asked.
“Katia,” she replied, lowering her gaze.
Artem introduced himself and asked how long she had been working there.
“Not long,” Katia answered. “I just finished my studies. And you, what do you do?”
Artem smiled.
“I bring light to people,” he joked, adding that he was an electrician.
Katia laughed. Thus, talking about everything and nothing, they spent a whole hour.
A different nurse appeared from the darkness of the corridor and approached Artem:
“Did you bring the old woman?” she asked.
Artem nodded.
“You were lucky,” she said. “You made it just in time. A little longer, and she would have had a heart attack.”
Artem asked if he could see the patient, but the answer was no.
“She’s resting. Come back tomorrow,” the nurse said and left.
Hearing this, Artem’s spirits lifted. Before leaving, he looked at Katia.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you so much.”
After a short hesitation, he added:
“Are you free this evening by any chance?”
Katia smiled.
“I’m free,” she replied.
Artem suggested meeting at a cafe, the first place that came to his mind, and headed for the exit.
After being reprimanded by the boss at the end of the workday, Artem almost forgot about his meeting with Katia. After rushing home to change, he called a taxi and headed to the small cafe “Lily” on the next street. Katia was already standing by the entrance in a blue dress. Her loose red hair resembled the sun against the clear sky.
After ordering coffee and pastries, Artem immediately asked about the old woman’s condition.
“Nina Pavlovna,” Katia corrected him. “That’s her name. She’s fine. She’ll stay in bed for a week, and then…”
She asked if Nina Pavlovna had a home to go to after being discharged. Artem shrugged.
“I don’t really know her,” he admitted. “I found her on the street, brought her to the hospital, and they treated us like stray dogs. The head doctor is just awful.”
He told Katia about what happened at the city hospital.
“Nothing can be done about him,” Artem concluded with frustration.
Katia smiled mysteriously.
“Maybe something can be done,” she said. “I’ll tell my father about this case. Maybe he’ll come up with something.”
Artem looked at her in surprise.
“If your father isn’t a deputy or at least the mayor, then nothing will change.”
Katia smiled again.
“You guessed it,” she whispered, looking around. “My dad is the mayor of this city.”
Artem almost choked on his pastry. He stared at Katia in disbelief, and she laughed, drawing the attention of other customers.
“Alright, I’ll arrange for him to meet you tomorrow. You’ll meet him, too,” she said, leaving Artem completely stunned.
The whole evening, Artem felt uncomfortable: how could he, a simple worker, invite the mayor’s daughter to such a modest place?
Katia, as if reading his thoughts, hurried to reassure him.
“Don’t worry,” she smiled. “I’m trying to get rid of the label of ‘the mayor’s daughter.’ That’s why I work as a nurse.”
Artem breathed a sigh of relief.
After leaving the cafe, Artem called a taxi and helped Katia get in the car.
“And you?” she asked, taking his hand.
“I’ll walk, it’s not far,” Artem answered, waving her goodbye.
As the taxi drove off, Katia stuck her head out the window and shouted:
“I’ll call you tomorrow!”
Artem nodded and headed home.
The next day, as promised, Katia called Artem and told him her father was ready to meet him in the morning. After work, Artem stopped by a discount store and bought a decent suit to look presentable for the meeting. He spent the whole night tossing and turning, worrying about the upcoming conversation, and only managed to fall into a shallow sleep by morning.
The alarm went off, and Artem, getting ready, liberally used deodorant before leaving. Reaching the mayor’s office door, he took a deep breath and asked:
“May I come in?”
“Of course, come in,” said the man in the chair, looking at him intently. “Sit down.”
Artem adjusted his suit and carefully sat down.
“So,” he began, “just the other day, something happened…”
He told the mayor about saving Nina Pavlovna. The mayor listened intently, taking notes.
“Yeah,” he said when Artem finished, “this head doctor has been irritating us for a long time. Complaints keep coming in, but there’s no evidence. He takes bribes, embezzles the budget — nothing works against him.”
Artem thought for a moment. The idea he had had in the car two days ago popped back into his mind. He looked at the mayor:
“You mentioned he takes bribes?”
The mayor nodded.
“I have an idea, but it might sound strange.”
The mayor looked at him with interest:
“Go ahead, tell me.”
Artem outlined his plan to catch the head doctor. The mayor laughed out loud:
“Great idea, well done! This is brilliant! It will be done.”
A man in a worn-out coat, with a dirty beard and glasses, came out of the administration with Artem. They got into a taxi and headed to the city hospital. There, the “homeless man” collapsed onto the floor, groaning:
“Oh, I can’t take it anymore, I’m feeling terrible!”
Artem, sitting next to him, also screamed loudly. The familiar nurse rushed over.
“What’s going on?” she asked, annoyed.
Artem pointed at the man lying on the floor:
“He’s got an ulcer. Take him in!”
The nurse demanded documents.
“He has nothing, sleeps on the street,” Artem tried to convince her, but she firmly refused.
“Call the head doctor,” Artem asked.
When the doctor came down, Artem approached him, hiding his hand behind his coat.
“What’s the problem?” the doctor began. “Homeless people again? This isn’t a shelter! Get out!”
Artem stepped closer:
“I’ve got something for you,” he whispered, handing over an envelope.
The doctor, checking to make sure no one was watching, nodded and opened the envelope. Inside was money.
“Alright, we’ll take your homeless man,” the doctor smiled, hiding the envelope.
At that moment, the “homeless man” stood up, removed his beard and glasses. The head doctor turned pale.
“Sergey Viktorovich?!” he whispered.
Standing before him was the mayor of the city. He squinted and looked at the doctor.
“Well, hello, Alexei Nikolaevich,” the mayor said mockingly.
Then he grabbed the doctor by the lapels, pulled a envelope and phone from his pocket.
“This stays with me,” the mayor said, hiding the money. “And this recording too.”
On the phone screen played a video of the bribery process.
“Here’s your evidence,” the mayor said, releasing the doctor. “Now, my friend, be ready for the consequences.”
The mayor patted Artem on the back, and they left the hospital.
On the way back, the mayor began a conversation with Artem about his relationship with Katia.
“Nothing special,” Artem replied, embarrassed. “Nothing yet.”
The mayor squinted:
“Nothing yet… Alright.”
Artem asked what would happen to the doctor.
“He’s definitely going to the right place, don’t worry,” the mayor said, thanking Artem for his help.
“Nothing yet” between Artem and Katia didn’t last long. A couple of months later, while on vacation at the sea, Artem proposed to her. Katia said yes. By then, thanks to Sergey Viktorovich’s order, Nina Pavlovna had been given keys to a new apartment. The old woman finally had a home. The mayor personally handed her a certificate for furniture.
“Don’t thank me, thank Artem,” the mayor said. “He’s a sharp guy!”
Back in the city, Artem and Katia had a grand wedding at that very cafe where they had drunk coffee. During the toast, Sergey Viktorovich called Artem his son. Later, in private, he offered him a job as his assistant.
“Don’t take offense, but I have to refuse,” Artem smiled. “I’m used to being a working man. And I don’t like wearing ties.”
The mayor laughed:
“Will you bring light to people?”
Artem nodded. Yes, that was his calling.