Walkman

Anton Gorodetsky's Walkman is a portable mini-disc player that he carries during his night patrols, using it to play a personal selection of music that ranges from medieval Italian composers and Bach to the rock group Alisa, Richie Blackmore, and Picnic. The device is introduced as a deliberate choice: Anton explains that he does not need his sense of hearing for his work, and "boredom is an implacable enemy" . The Walkman is thus established not as a tool of the trade but as a companion against the tedium and isolation of the hunt, a small piece of his private self that he brings into the gray world of the Others.

A Barometer of Internal State and a Source of Ironic Commentary

The Walkman's music frequently coincides with and comments on the events Anton encounters, creating a layer of ironic or symbolic meaning. During the hunt for the vampire, the song playing is "In the shadow of the moon / She danced in the starlight, / Whispering a haunting tune / To the night…" (E00170-E00173). Anton immediately notes, "How appropriate. The song was absolutely perfect. But it was a bad omen" (E00174-E00175). The music does not merely accompany the action; it provides a premonition and a commentary that Anton himself registers. Later, when he is rushing to the roof confrontation, the lyrics of a Picnic song resonate with his own feelings of invisibility and wrongness: "I dance out of time, I've done everything wrong… I, I, I—I am invisible" (E02192-E02197). The Walkman becomes a conduit for the novel's thematic concerns, allowing Anton to experience his own story as if it were being scored, a moment of self-awareness that the device itself enables.

A Transitional Object Between Human and Other

The Walkman functions as a transitional object, a piece of Anton's former human life that he carries into the alienating world of the Others. It is a source of comfort and normalcy, a way to hold onto a sense of self that is not entirely defined by the Twilight and the Watch. When he is in the car, rushing to the Perovo field headquarters, he puts on the earphones and listens to an old song, "Sundays" . The lyrics describe a small, sleepy town, a world far removed from the impending catastrophe of the Inferno vortex. The Walkman allows him to briefly inhabit a different, more peaceful reality, even as he is being driven at breakneck speed toward a potential disaster. This act of listening is a small, private rebellion against the overwhelming demands of his duty, a way to preserve a fragment of his humanity.

Fragility and Loss of Control

The Walkman's materiality becomes apparent at moments of crisis, when its function is disrupted or abandoned. During the final confrontation on the roof, Anton pulls off his jacket and drops it "with the murmuring Walkman" . The device, which had been a constant companion, is suddenly discarded, its music silenced as he prepares for a fight that transcends the ordinary. The "murmuring" suggests a life of its own, a small, persistent voice that is now left behind. This moment of abandonment marks a threshold: Anton is leaving behind the last vestiges of his ordinary, human self to enter a space where the personal comfort of music is irrelevant. The Walkman, once a tool against boredom, becomes a symbol of the very normalcy he must sacrifice.

The Walkman as a Marker of Time and Identity

Anton's use of the Walkman also distinguishes him from other, more seasoned field operatives. While they rely on magic and combat instincts, Anton relies on a piece of consumer electronics. This choice underscores his background as an analyst and a programmer, someone who is more comfortable with technology than with raw power. The device is a link to his pre-Watch identity, a reminder that he was once an ordinary person who listened to music for pleasure. In a world of vampires, magicians, and the Twilight, the Walkman is a stubbornly mundane object, a testament to Anton's struggle to remain connected to the human world he is sworn to protect, even as he is drawn deeper into the conflict between Light and Darkness.