Creature of unknown kind - стр. 10
– So is there something extremely dangerous? I didn't get. We've been ordered to survive…
Petrovich lost his patience.
– Ensign Bashkalo, stop chattering! The task is set, is clear. Perform the task. It's extremely dangerous everywhere here. And for the Soviet people, you, Vasya, must work your fifteen hundred per month through two hundred for each mission. We seem to have an ideological cub here, I live by the rules, and you have come to talk too much about money lately. Enough, no questions. Right dress, attention. Forward, contract boy. The order of movement is statutory before my command. On the march!
Vadim took one step and tumbled down into a river.
It was good in the river. And the world through which it was flowing was good. Warm, safe, and forever homely. Newcomers have been warned about hallucinations repeatedly. They were advised to recall what happened in them and, if possible, to count a seconds of objective time. One, Mississippi, two, Mississippi, three, Mississippi… And then, without fail, describe the memories in the report. A slow, narrow river in the jungle. The heavy river, the powerful river, flows from afar, for a long time. The Amazon? What the jungle is this? “How do I know”, said Mumbler, “am I a jungle specialist to you, or what?” The river flows majestically, like semolina porridge. There is a feeling of peace and security, peace in the whole world. And crocodiles and piranhas? There are none here. The water is very clean and tasty. Upstream, a half of kilometer away from Vadim, the river made a turn (he perceived it as “the river flowed out of the bend”), and out of this bend some boards with life buoys on the walls, fishing rods and open doors suddenly appeared, all sparkling in the sun, white, like in Chekhov's poem, suburban, theatrical.
“That's right”, said Mumbler, “a houseboat. A square like a box, a house on a raft, with a veranda, wicker chairs, curtains in the doorway… Who is sitting on the veranda? Two people? Or one is sitting down, while the second at the railing, spits into the water?”
It was unclear from the scene.
Two hundred eighty-five Mississippi, two hundred eighty-six Mississippi… Vadim was counting diligently.
– Sverzhin, stop!
Vadim was thrown back. He stopped and slammed himself hard over the eyes, trying to wipe them.
– “Stop” was a command! – repeated Petrovich after all this. – Pay more attention on the track. – Vadim heard his footsteps, and here Petrovich approached and stood next to him on the right. And only then the vision seemed to be cleared from the river of semolina porridge, and Vadim realised that he had almost stuck into the famous fog of the Zone. The atmospheric condensation.
“And I saw it a long time ago, about fifteen seconds”, said Mumbler, “But you force me to count there, to watch here, friends don't act this way with a friend!”
“Oh, shut up!” – Vadim almost said it aloud.
– Hey you, bumper, how you called…, Sverzhin, you need to be more attentive, – Petrovich said quietly and unexpectedly mildly. – Do you see the old “risk”, it is lying right there? I'm throwing a new one next to it.
A small nut, flying for a dozen meters, with a gauze strip, not very long, tied to it, crossed through the air and entered the fog. The fog blinked, at once, totally disappearing for a moment.