CHAPTER 5. 5. A SPECIMEN OF NAIVETY

"Sheremetyevo, exactly one week. Shall we register?"

"Yes, provided there's no penalty for non-departure. There's a possibility of finding faster transport or something happening."

"In that case, you or someone on your behalf must call two days prior to cancel. No penalty, but please—we count on your integrity," the woman smiled.

"And on prudence," the voice added.

"And divine assistance. A personal question?" the future émigré shifted topics.

"Certainly," the gracious hostess beamed.

"Which vaccine did your organization's staff receive? This is an Israeli government organization operating in another country with a completely different vaccine selection."

"We're universally vaccinated with Pfizer. Done centrally per logistics service directive. Main thing for you—fresh test before departure. Positive result means postponing the flight for a month. Don't worry," she concluded warmly with a smile.

"Why not Sputnik?"

"Because that vaccine lacks World Health Organization approval. It entered consumption before completing third-stage trials, which must be double-blind and randomized. With Sputnik, vaccinated test subjects immediately rushed for testing, learning from antibodies whether they'd actually received vaccine. Negative results meant re-vaccination, not from test batches, for certainty. That's not how trials work. Like cheating on exams, understand?" she illustrated, boring through her glasses like a proper schoolmarm.

"Fine. Thank you. We'll stay in touch," he concluded, rising.

"Just record your contact information, precautionary," she pushed forward paper and pen.

"Could prove very useful," the voice confirmed.

He wrote in block letters his name, surname, patronymic, phone, and email, turned, opened the door, and exited.