Zoya Mirai in 2026 did not register in the perception of ordinary people as a figure. People did not see her by sight. If someone passed her in a corridor, their gaze would slide, the way a gaze slides off a glass that has water poured onto it. It was her biological peculiarity: diagnosed, initially, as a rare variety of paramnestic dissociation with disruption of figural organization of perception in observers (fourteen years at Kashchenko, three courses of neuroleptics, Zoya in the end simply stopped taking them, because they dulled her own self — the fantasy from them remained untouched). Later, at the Academy, it turned out there is no pathology here at all; it is — a property of signature. Zoya carries in her signature fragments of other lives (seventeen earthly languages and six not in the world’s phonological atlas); her signature is structurally larger than one observer, and ordinary people do not see her for a simple reason: they have no slot in their heads for such an observer (their perceptual resolving capacity supports one or two subjects per object, and if there are many more subjects, the object falls out of the category of “figure”).