Ancylus, Ancylus, Ancylus!

His bare feet slapped against the mud-covered stones. The stick probed cautiously, checking for hidden traps, making sure everything was as it seemed. The guiding glow of his lamp illuminated only a few steps ahead, leaving the rest shrouded in the void’s black field. The path twisted, left and right, unpredictably. Windbreaker Zilvinas moved quickly yet carefully. Running recklessly was dangerous, even though the mosquito swarm’s droning grew louder behind him.

Suddenly, without time to discern if it was his mistake or a planned glitch, the windbreaker lost solid ground. At the slightest touch, the shapeless black field void turned into a mire, and Zilvinas sank knee-deep into the muck. His guiding light flew off into the distance. The mosquitoes caught up with their fleeing prey. Zilvinas disconnected from the network at the last possible moment – just as the first mosquito landed, but before it could latch on and steal a fragment of the windbreaker’s memory.

Zilvinas tore off his network glasses, squinting despite the perpetually gray sky. A bright red light blazed in his face. The laser barrier was still operating at full capacity. While the "Kūlgrinda" program was a useful tool, it clearly needed further development. Too often, the enemy managed to counter the windbreakers’ efforts.

Adjusting to the light, Zilvinas hurriedly began gathering his gear. First, he unplugged cables hidden beneath a thin layer of turf. Stuffing the wire bundle into his backpack, he slipped the floppy disk containing collected data into a secret pocket. Then, pressing a few buttons, he wiped the memory on his wrist device – no one could discover the progress made by the windbreakers. Finally, he tried activating the camouflage system on his wrist computer. He cursed aloud, smacking the device with his fist. Damn Soviet technology. Zilvinas broke into a full sprint. This time, recklessly.

Though he stumbled a few times, he cleared the dunes with relative ease. The real challenge began when he reached the forest. Clambering over the first fallen pine trunks, he had to crawl beneath the dense labyrinth of rotting trees. Thick moss ensured a soft crawl on all fours.

The drone's hum grew louder. Fallen trees provided some cover, but this temporary shield was far from reliable. The flying machines systematically scoured the forest. Zilvinas rebooted his computer. As the screen flickered back to life, he attempted to activate the "Mud" program on his wrist device once more. Success – the camouflage engaged!

At that very moment, Zilvinas froze. A drone hovered above him. A red star, etched on its underside, spun around its axis. The windbreaker could clearly see the rough welds on the machine’s heavy armor. Any movement, and the drone would use its sheer weight to crush its target. Such was the modus operandi of Soviet engineering.

The drone slowly drifted away from the hiding spot, its hum fading into silence. Convinced of his safety, the man rose and headed eastward. The floppy disk in his backpack needed to reach the West, but for the third time, Zilvinas failed to cross the border due to “Kūlgrinda's” collapse. He had to retreat and rethink his plan.

Far enough from the border, Zilvinas rested atop a hill that offered a wide view of the horizon. Everywhere the eye could see – tall ferns, stunted shrubs, moss blankets, and decayed forests. Occasionally, an alder or willow stood resilient, but coniferous forests had succumbed to the dampness. Ancient woods had vanished, leaving behind tales of a once verdant land. Rain had become a rarity, and people could no longer remark, “It’s raining cats and dogs.” Only a faint drizzle occasionally descended, as if someone up above spilled a few drops begrudgingly. Such rain brought no relief. Underground springs failed to replenish, mud remained clinging where it was, and humans felt no freshness or respite in the air. Stagnant, stinking, murky dampness gripped vast stretches of land that hadn’t felt the touch of warmth for a very long time.

And what of the seashore, the very essence of a coastline? Beyond the iron curtain and laser barrier lay a desolate wasteland of dried silt and withered seaweed, where one could still find the skeletons of dolphins, turtles, or whales. The Baltic Sea no longer existed, raising the question of whether the Baltic nations had disappeared with it. The damp drove people mad and away from their homeland. With the windbreakers’ help, most residents had fled beyond the so-called iron curtain, building new lives on the dried seabed. The territory of international waters served them well.

The culprit of this grim landscape wasn’t far to seek. A mere glance upward revealed the answer: a dark green, thick, cold cloud stretched across the sky. The same cloud that sometimes drizzled and always blocked the sun’s warmth. The same cloud that never moved, no matter how fiercely the wind blew. This was the Baltic Sea – the very sea the coastal people longed for. Years ago, it had suddenly risen and remained stuck in the sky. Everyone knew this was a Soviet feat. But no one understood the motive – whether it was malice or sheer stupidity.

Zilvinas, continuing eastward, descended the hill and approached a small puddle. He recalled that about a decade ago, this used to be a lake; now, only remnants of fresh water remain. His wrist computer displayed a warning: “flying objects.” These could be drones searching for the fugitive. The man activated “Mud.” This time, the program worked on the first attempt.

The sound of wings flapping reached his ears. Three swans landed by the puddle. Zilvinas knew these swans weren’t ordinary birds. These were the possessions of oligarchs – the meticulously cared-for ornaments of their paradise gardens. They were also their bed toys.

The windbreaker had already loaded his electromagnetic rifle as he crept closer to the swans. Singing, the birds plucked their feathers and arranged them into neat piles. Soon, the songbirds began to transform. Their bodies started to stretch and pink skin appeared instead of white feathers. New bones snapped into place audibly as they grew. Wings tore apart, revealing slender arms beneath the skin. Beaks deflated and shrank, replaced by beautiful, plump lips. Within moments, three naked, young, fair-skinned girls continued the song in human voices. The singers prepared to bathe in the puddle.

The windbreaker waited for this moment. Aiming at the nearest one, he fired. The girl’s body convulsed from the shock and collapsed. The other two girls, startled by the gunshot, immediately reinserted their feathers. Reverting to swan form, they hissed and tried to nip at him. Meanwhile, the man ignored them, gathering the fallen girl’s feathers. One of the swans attempted to snatch the loot from his hands, but the windbreaker pointed his reloaded rifle. That was enough to send the swans flapping away, abandoning their sister.

Zilvinas examined the feathers. He could now see clearly that they were chips, granting androids various abilities. This meant the swan was indeed the property of an oligarch—a property that might contain critical information.

The windbreaker began roughly examining her body, searching for a port to access the swan’s data. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t find any hidden panel. Inspecting the girl’s face, Zilvinas noticed she was crying. Her body had relaxed from the electrical shoch, but she didn’t resist—only recoiling in fear of his touch.

“Let me go,” the android sobbed.

“I can’t,” the windbreaker replied curtly. “I need something from you. Once I get it, you can go.”

“I know what you need,” the swan whispered softly. “You need the cloud’s name.”

Zilvinas laughed aloud. For a moment, he had believed the songbird knew something. The windbreaker tried to pry open her ear slightly. The girl screamed.

“Stop pretending. I know it doesn’t hurt,” Zilvinas snapped.

“It does,” she replied, trembling. “And you don’t even know what you’re looking for. The cloud’s name is a password.”

Zilvinas paused, listening but trying not to reveal his interest.

“Let me go, and I’ll tell you the cloud’s name,” she pleaded, attempting to catch his gaze. “Please,” she added sorrowfully.

The man avoided looking at her face.

“Tell me first, then I’ll let you go,” he demanded firmly. “I promise,” he added, softening his tone slightly.

The swan sighed. She seemed genuinely trying to read his expression. A few more tears of despair rolled down her cheeks.

“Ancylus,” she whispered before bursting into tears.

“What?” Zilvinas barked. “What does this word even mean?”

“It’s the lake’s name,” the swan cried out through her tears. “There’s no sea there anymore” she gestured upward. “The cloud can’t be a sea, so the name is old. It’s what it once was.”

Zilvinas wasn’t sure if he could trust such information, but there was no time to deliberate. If she had a connection installed, the drones could already be on their way.

The windbreaker drew a knife from its sheath and, with a swift motion, stabbed it into the girl’s chest. She began screaming. Whether she was faking or not, Zilvinas didn’t care. His actions remained precise. As the blade scraped against metal, her chest cavity was fully breached, revealing mechanisms, pistons, and chips.

“You said you’d let me go…” she whispered weakly, as if pain had truly sapped her strength.

“A password alone isn’t enough.”

He coldly fired another electrical shot at the android. He didn’t know any other way to temporarily paralyze her. Then he pulled wires from his backpack, stripped the insulation with his knife, and did the same with some of the android’s cables, connecting everything together. Checking his wrist device, he confirmed the connection was working. He logged into the windbreakers’ system and activated “Kūlgrinda”.

The same stones, the same reeds. No mosquitoes buzzed, and Zilvinas managed to stop the guiding light. This time, he wouldn’t need to run. This time, the goal was different. The windbreaker gathered himself, raised his head toward the black void, and shouted with all his might:

“Ancylus!”

An echo resounded, but nothing happened. In the distance, the hum of mosquitoes began again. Zilvinas tried once more:

“Ancylus, Ancylus, Ancylus!” he shouted.

A strong wind arose. Gradually, something resembling a cloud began to take shape above, churning as if on the brink of an explosion. A lightning bolt flashed, igniting the cloud with light, but everything else remained dark. Thunder rumbled. It didn’t rain here, but Zilvinas felt his body getting wet. Then he disconnected.

Once again, he squinted, but this time due to the clearing in the sky. Heavy rain poured, soon followed by a rainbow. Zilvinas inhaled deeply—the air was fresh and light. The cloud was transforming, with flashes of lightning within. The windbreaker rejoiced — the cloud would finally leave this land. He believed in victory but then turned westward.

Zilvinas couldn’t see what was happening on the ground, but the sky told everything. The cloud fractured into separate pieces, plummeting to earth. Vapor instantly turned to water. And this wasn’t rain, it was water bombs. The sounds of impacts echoed even here. A natural weapon’s bombardment, for which no one was prepared.

The cloud slowly drifted westward. It was obvious that the bombardment would cease only once the entire cloud settled back into its original place. And worst of all, the recent “swan scene” was a deception that Zilvinas had fallen for — a deception enabling the Soviets to claim that the bombing order had come from the windbreakers’ network. Without a doubt, they would exploit this.

Zilvinas turned his gaze away from the bombardment. His eyes met the girl’s. The android’s body had already broken free from paralysis. She clutched her torn chest, crying. She could have attacked the windbreaker but didn’t. She only cried. Furious at her but seeing no need for revenge, Zilvinas handed her the feathers. She reinserted the chips back into their slots. Her body transformed. Before him stood a beautiful, white swan. Raindrops slid off her feathers. No trace of the damage remained. The swan fully spread her wings, ran, flapped, and flew away.