Organization

After the cryogenic fugue, Ernest, like the rest of the passengers on the shuttle, was in mixed feelings. He was slightly sick, periodically rolled drowsiness and hellishly, madly wanted to smoke. And if he partially leveled the first two points with good coffee in the “clean” zone, then he had to wait with nicotine - the luggage was still delayed. So far, the City has been no different from the usual train stations, airports, and hubs.On the other hand, there was time to look at the various creeping and walking alien living creatures and read the booklet for the first time visitors. "A City for Newcomers in Twenty-five Pages".“Blablabla, the right to the Charter…” Ernest’s eyes ran through, “the ensuing rights to social activities, the senior responsibility towards the “guests”, the junior one to the “owners”... Hmm, I would like to see those owners of the city.“Not cities, planets,” said a buoyant, squat man behind him in the baggage claim line. “Believe me, young man, if you see

The newly minted charter decided to take a walk. The communicator worked, analyzed the route - forty minutes. Lanes "a" go from the river to the New City, lanes "b" - perpendicularly. Not as difficult as it might seem at once. In general, no "mazes of strangers", an ordinary city.Which in general he was already beginning to like. The atmosphere of Babylon. A bizarre combination of impetuous human architectural styles long forgotten in the Metropolis and "guest" and "master" styles never known there. Too chopped or too smooth, revealingly spitting on harmony or - built into the landscape. The city had character and was not shy about showing it. And to the freshly baked charter A.N. liked it.And after several months of fugue, Ernest wanted to stretch his limbs. At least the legs.He gladly walked through the "flea market", spending a hundred marks on outright knick-knacks. Old books from the most ordinary paper, a handmade tube. He looked closely at the brass knuckles blackened by tim

- How are you, three hundred and first?- Hooked a little, but you can live, - frowned partner. He got much more: the armor was dented, the rifle was smoking from overheating. When did you manage to?.. - Look, it seems that the opposing side has come out.Indeed, gloomy ragamuffins with various rubbish in their hands began to seep out of the adjoining alleyways.“I remind you that shooting to kill is prohibited against the Charterers in the absence of danger ...” the dispatcher muttered, but Ernest did not wait for the weapons to be blocked. He nodded to his partner and threw a gas grenade. Blue cloud, hacking cough. Someone began to puke right on the spot. Soon the coughing crowd dispersed. For a while.Because after a couple of minutes the cloud began to dissipate. Too fast.- Three hundred and first, step on the gas.The partner silently swung and threw a grenade. Flight - the cloud fell behind the squat barn opposite, causing a stream of curses. And without stopping the creeping c

Location: Old City.Location: Cafe-bar "Dirty Harry".Time: 23-25 ​​local time.Agnett, Agnett. I thought good parents...The girl rolled her eyes and pulled out a dainty little folder from somewhere. Cigarette case, long and thin mouthpiece. The process of collecting smoking accessories (cigarette filter mouthpiece) reminded him of assembling a poly-mode and he smiled. Agnett felt the gaze and for the first time in the evening smiled warmly, and not in response to a joke. Or a lucky hit. And just like that. It was unusual.Ernest asked the bartender for a busy sign, and left a new (and again opened) bottle as a deposit. During this time, the red-haired woman threw on the coats already familiar from the airship and a small backpack. They left, taking compliments for blows along the way. Moreover, all those who voiced approval agreed that the bottle of Aperol played a decisive role in the tavern fight.Apart from them, no one dared to smoke outside, and as soon as they left, the freshl

Location : Old City.Location: Stanton Furnished Rooms.Time : Wednesday, 10-05. Three months from the arrival of the Candidate. Spring season.The alarm clock clicked, changing numbers. He waited a few seconds and began to ring heart-rendingly. A woman's hand slipped out from under the blanket on the narrow, "bachelor" bed and began to grope for the surface of the bedside table. I found only a plasma ball-lamp, I almost knocked it to the floor. Soon, from under the same blanket, the girl's head appeared. With tousled short hair of black, reminiscent of ebony, color."Ernie, Ernie," she began to shake her lover. - Where is your alarm clock?Her response was a sleepy set of curse words. Sleeping next to her, Ernest hated many things. And the appeal of "Ernie", along with the girl's low intelligence, took pride of place somewhere in the top ten. I had to throw back the blanket, go to the alarm clock placed on the windowsill (if you go further, you will wake up faster) and turn it off. G