Game of Tag. Fantasy. Julia Syanova

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СКАЧАТЬ figured as a uniform of superhero. This way it was easier to carry all the shit that was going on in the port.

      The door of the trailer creaked and he went inside. Yes, nothing has changed here in three years. The same perfect order, everything in its place: the table near the window and the bench on the side, two chairs and an electric kettle, boiling water.

      “I wonder if he ever turns it off?” thought Serega.

      “Come in, sit down, I have to talk to you.”

      There was one thing Sergei realized: you’d better not play jokes on Uncle Vasya,

      and if he has to talk to you, it is always on the matter.

      “Listen, you should not appear in the port in the next three months,” – Vasily Dmitrievich raised his tanned wrinkled hand and stopped Serega. – “Stop, stop, I’m aware of your position.”

      The jumped guy slowly sat back on the stool.

      “But you understand that we will have checks here. The Japanese smuggle contraband, the big dough is paid on top, and we suffer. Do you want some tea? According to a special recipe!”

      “No, no, I will not have tea. Heck! What shall I do?” – he did not expect such a bummer, and especially not now. – “Heck! Heck!”

      Sergey inclined his head, already thinking about what kind of work he could find to combine with the university.

      “Do not swear in my presence. I have decided to give you an advance for these three months of idle time, but keep in mind, then you will work it all off. Here, there are three hundred and twenty thousand that is less than what you earn, but at least something. Your grandfather, probably, needs to change the wheelchair. Besides, you will have a rest, it is summer after all, and you here all days long.”

      That’s what was stunning for Sergey: no one gave him money – that’s right, in advance, or you can say, just like that!

      “It’s now past five, so take the money and get out, then the GRU, Alpha-shmalfa and other fun-loving guys, checking guest workers, and just at six am sharp, will begin, f….”

      “Vasily Dmitrievich, thank you!” – They shook hands firmly. – “I’ll call you in about three months!”

      “Yes, yes, call. If the brains of the old walrus will not be completely withered.”

      Vasily looked at the back of a young, healthy guy and was surprised: in three years almost everyday loads made a bulldog of a puppy. Only his eyes remained puppy like. Having spat, the chief went about his business. He began to prepare tea – according to a special recipe of “navy seals’.

      Before leaving, he went to the shower, washed himself, changed his clothes, folded his uniform in a bag and closed it in the locker. The key was dangling on a bunch, as well as a special pass to the dock.

      “What’s to be done now? – He thought. – I’m already used to this place, to the smell of the port, to the ships.”

      Work in the dock as a loader was regarded as one of the most dangerous. But they paid well and the schedule was free. He had to get up at three-twenty am, prepare breakfast for his little brother and a paralyzed grandfather.

      Then go through the Golden Bridge to the port. There, for four hours, he worked his butt off, sometimes tearing himself up or under an icy rain. Then he went to the Far Eastern Federal University. After he managed to win a grant in the school and three years of payment in this university, he entered without hesitation. Our education is our everything! After all, he could not always be a docker in the port.

      “It’s decided, I’ll go to the university, especially if I go by sunbus, I’ll have time to get some sleep.”

      AUGUST 14, 2057, 20:15, OFFICE OF THE RECTOR OF FEFU

      The new office was dim, and only one lamp burned at the rector’s desk, the main light was turned off. There was a smell of new furniture, paint, expensive cognac and cigar.

      In the huge chair sat a gray-haired man and looked at one spot. In the ashtray, the Cuban cigar was almost completely decayed. He played with a glass of cognac but did not rush to drink it.

      “And why did I agree to this fucking grant from these monsters? Now, I practically work for them, sit and wait for orders from Moscow, and not from the Ministry of Education, but from a private company. How angry it makes me! F….ing Art. soul Holding group’.

      The sharp sound of the stationary phone made him wince.

      “Yes, Marina.”

      “Mikhail Vladimirovich, you have a direct conference with Moscow in a minute’, – said a very young secretary.

      “All right, put them through.”

      “Finally, well, let’s go.”

      After the conversation, he felt a little relieved, the tension that pulled his nerves into a ball all day, let go. Now he can take a vacation and go for a week with his wife to the country house. There, they with his neighbor Oleg Gennadievich will fish on a boat. There is a blissful silence and peace. Without an overseer in the face of the world corporation. Which, like a malevolent chain dog, follows his every step, gesture, word.

      He called for his car and driver. At such a time in the city, there were no traffic jams, and he came in twenty-five minutes, rejoiced and in the best mood, he embraced and kissed his wife. And he announced his intentions to go away for a week or two to the Baikal country house.

      AUGUST 15, 2057, 10:20, SUKHANOV STREET, 8, MAIN BUILDING OF FEFU

      All the students gathered around the building. There was such noise and hubbub that it was audible for a couple of blocks. An outsider, watching what was happening, most likely would immediately be worried and called the police. But this did not happen, all ordinary passers-by were aware of what was going on, and terribly envied the students of this institution.

      Sergey went to the building in the hope of receiving a schedule and finding out the scheme of payment for tuition, since this year the grant was to end.

      “What the…” – he thought, hearing the screaming and whistling.

      Then a familiar car blinked into the lights. From the window of the new white Range Rover, the redheaded Roma Babitsky stared a homely, skinny, intelligent Jewish boy from a respectable, and therefore wealthy, Jewish family.

      “Serega, hi! Have you already received your ticket?” Shouted Roma.

      “What ticket?”

      “Lottery one!!!” – grinned the guy.

      “… – the guy opened his mouth in surprise.”

      “So you don’t know? Ah, well, yes, you do not get in touch! Get in the car, I will tell you smart things’, – said Roma copying a Caucasian accent.

      Serega crossed the road, opened the door of the car and flew into the new cabin of the very expensive car.

      “What СКАЧАТЬ