October 1941. The Vyazma cauldron. Captain Rodin comes to on frozen ground among bare birch trees—alive, intact, but without a past. Personal memory has been erased completely: no mother, no home, no faces. Only his name remains on his military ID, the smell of machine oil on his coveralls, and a strange, inexplicable knowledge—maps, the positions of German divisions, a corridor to the north that isn’t on any paper. The body remembers what the mind has forgotten.
Alone in the middle of an encirclement, Rodin starts to walk. Not toward the past—toward the exit.