Fyodor sat on his office chair. His fingers typed away meticulously at the keyboard and the screens in front of him had his undivided attention. The office felt like a stormy night in Oymyakon, with such coldness that could freeze one even with a slight touch. It had been days since he had left this very room.

When the door creaked open, he did not pay attention to whoever came inside. He stayed still, typing and typing. He waited for the other person to speak.