Time in this novel about a traveler caught in a volcanic cloud on the way from Moscow to Copenhagen moves so chaotically that space begins to fall apart into its components, pulling the hero into different dimensions of his own “self.” In which of these dimensions is the real “self”? Which of the many “selves” will finally reach the goal? And what is the goal of our journey through space and time altogether? The reader must decide. But one warning is in order: be very careful with words— in Eugene Klyuev’s new novel, they have especially little in common with reality.