The old woman nearly had a stroke. Mikhailovna had only recently begun working in the metro and she understood she’d need time to get used to it. But, of course, she never expected to see the Holy One here.

He looked like an ordinary teenager with his beanie, jacket, and sagging pants. But now, after what she had seen, the old lady understood that the boy was not so simple. He immediately stood out from the dull crowd.

The boy didn’t just walk, he glided, barely touching the floor. His gaze was filled with Wisdom and Universal Humility.

Stopping at the gate, he crossed himself with an excessive flourish, took a deep bow, and nearly hit his head on the card reader. And the gate let him through!

The boy leisurely strode onto the platform. The old lady watched him go, her face petrified as her familiar world collapsed.

***

The biggest challenge was not to laugh, but Alex managed to control himself. Only once he was on the platform did he allow himself a smile.

“It’s a shame the guys didn’t see that.”

The train arrived and the “Holy One” entered the heated train car, pulled out a magnetic card from his hat’s lapel and put it in his pants pocket.

***

Next.

Is it one of our own kind?

Or an alien?

I have magnetic nostrils on the outside, so I take a smell first.

It’s one of ours.

He is swimming right into my mouth. Here I have my eyes. I’m watching how one of ours is moving deeper towards my dull and rubber teeth. The jaws are the trap.

The rule is simple. If my nostrils say it’s ours, I’m not supposed to shut my teeth. However, if it is an alien, then I’m supposed to snap him with my teeth and hold. Aliens don’t show up very often. Those who are ours happen to be here more frequently. That means the same scenario over and over again: take a smell, have a look and let one in, take a smell, have a look and let one in.

My entire life.

Something was not quite right with this one.

I didn’t have time to figure out what exactly.

The smell seems to be alright, so I’m letting it through, but I feel so heavy-hearted after such ones. I call them troubled. I have to take a closer look at them sometime. Next time a troubled one gets in I’ll snap at him just in case. Maybe it’ll help clear things out.

***

“Look, Petrovna, the Holy One is coming. He’s sure to perform a miracle.”

“Where is he?”

“There, the one in the gray hat.”

The boy wasn’t just walking, he was gliding, barely touching the floor. His gaze was filled with Wisdom and Universal Humility. As he approached the turnstile, he stopped in front of it in a dignified manner.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alex spotted one of the old ladies crossing herself near the booth. He made his typical sign of the cross, gave a well-rehearsed bow, and stepped forward.

The turnstile unexpectedly slammed shut, the gate painfully striking Alex in his bony hips. The "Holy One" was trapped in the folding mechanism, the "Jaws" holding him unexpectedly tight. Soap and Cactus were laughing their heads off behind him. He had brought them to make fun of the old ladies. It was both painful and embarrassing as it seemed the entire area stopped to gawk as he floundered, trapped in the turnstile's grasp.

Blood rushed to his face. Alex leaned his entire body against the gate, its teeth scraping against his skin before he ultimately broke free. The young man rushed towards the escalator and flew down the ridged steps, his head pounding from adrenaline.

“A miracle? Did you hit your head on something? These hooligans have been hiding cards in their hats and bowing for a while. You’ve never seen it, have you? Sometimes, the system goes on the fritz, which means now your ‘miracle’ is going to have a bruise. You saw how he jerked, the poor wretch!"

***

“It feels like my soul has been cleansed, brothers! Ehhh, you hear that, Lefty?”

“Huh?”

“I get it now, why we need the troubled.”

“Why?”

“If you chomp down on them, it will make you feel so good afterward.”

“You’re kidding! Seriously?”

“Seriously. Tell the others.”

“I will. Thanks."