Organization

2

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 them without a mask, you are guaranteed a couple of days without sleep. Minimum.

“I can’t drink water from my face,” Ernest chuckled.

- Sorry?

- Yes, one saying stuck during the service.

— Army?

— Expeditionary Corps.

— Oh, my son wanted to enlist there. They didn’t take it,” the interlocutor sighed. “But I managed to enlist in the Navy.

“That’s not bad either,” Ernest agreed, who did not have warm feelings for the Black Fleet. He wanted to develop a thought, but a trio of arachnids the size of a taxi rustled past. Djosers. He has already met them. True, in the last meeting, Sergeant Ernest A. N. and the spiders were on opposite sides of the sight. And this feeling was quite strange. The neighbor must have seen his look.

"Don't worry, the local spiders are quite peaceful," he whispered.

- Quite?

- Once every five years, as scheduled, they start to rebel. Required to be included in the charter.

- And how are you doing?

- The owners contract the local Security Council, print out the arsenals themselves. They take out their hurutukuli and powder the rebels.

Ernest grunted and patted his jacket pockets out of inertia. Without a weapon on his hip, it was still strange. During the time that has passed since demobilization, he has already rebuilt to civilian life. Mostly. Not in terms of the lack of something that will help when meeting with a rabid non-human.

Landing : [data removed]

Title : Immigrant situation goes beyond acceptable limits

Host Approved : No

Good morning peppers.

As you know from more semi-official and dry newspapers, another liner arrives this morning with emigrants who have left stuffy and hopeless systems. One word - Metropolis, our passionately desired home. Actually, no, of course not. What person in their right mind would go back there? I know peppers. None of you.

In general, there is a bad prospect. One liner is five thousand people who will live for two weeks in such excellent social housing and try to snatch work, fighting for it, like an urdaleb for a female in the mating season. Fight, knock down the price, beat off good work from good citizens. Do we need it, peppers? I suggest making it very simple. Let us issue another segregation tag.

You say it's some kind of dictatorship. Dystopia.

But by God, do we live with the division into "pure" and "impure" genotypes? The same Kordulov were recorded by the whole crowd as "unclean", and yet they were only

<READ ERROR. LANDING IS BLOCKED BY OWNERS. DISTRIBUTION OF MATERIAL WILL LEAD TO CONSEQUENCES>

Finally, the transparent pipe began to make noise and languidly spit out suitcases onto the rotating belt. Small - a decently dressed man. Two voluminous - a fashionably dressed girl (her companion waited for his backpack and called the porter). Oh, and here is the Ernest container. And a camouflage “chameleon” cover that stuck around him, constantly attracting the attention of onlookers. The suitcase thudded against the tape and slowly began to be painted in its color. Ernest habitually grabbed the only visible place (the handle), pulled the suitcase to the floor and turned to his neighbor in turn:

Thanks for the informative conversation. Good luck to you...

“Wait, monsieur,” he waved his hands and began to rummage in his pockets. “If you need historical, financial or alcohol information, call or write at any time of the day,” the interlocutor held out a blue business card, on which an archaic chip winked with a copper spot.

"Jacques, Gaspard. Consulting Services,” read the text

“I am Ernest,” he simply introduced himself and shook hands with Monsieur Jacques. Unfortunately, I can't give you my contacts. I have just arrived and the communicator has not yet been re-registered.

— Not a problem, — the consultant dismissed, snatching a small suitcase from the tape under the grumbling of the queue. “At any time of the day or night, remember, Ernest!”

Leaving the embarrassed interlocutor, Monsieur rolled off towards a special corridor with a blue coating, where he settled down behind three walrus-like creatures (urdalebs, if the brochure was not lying). And the demobilized visitor had to breathe and go into the usual, "green" corridor. Although there were fewer creatures there than in the "guest" one, it was still not easier. And I still wanted to smoke.

- Full name and surname, place of departure, purpose of arrival? inquired the lean man of customs.

— Ernest Andreas N, metropolis, emigration quota.

The Latinized "Andreas" instead of the usual "Andreevich" cut the ear, but no more. Man gets used to everything.

— Hm, — the official raised his eyebrows. — Precisely N?

“Exactly,” A.N. calmly confirmed. You have no idea how many problems I've had because of this. Basically just when checking documents

“I can imagine,” the official chuckled. - Purpose of arrival, how long do you plan to stay on the planet and where?

— My quota for emigration involves hiring from the agency. In the city of arrival, at least for six months. There is a visa.

- Yes, I see ... Well, good luck to you, Mr. N! - the official grinned, sharply swiped the card over the reader and gave the document to the tray. - Next!

The customs corridor had a very good opening to the street. Ernest moved away from the entrance, pulled off the cover and realized that he did not want to smoke. Let go.

The air was not without a chemical aftertaste (after all, this is a Hub, after all), but also an extra suffocation. Excellent. Cool, however. And you can’t say that the city stands in the middle of the wastelands ... And how can you get to the city only? Yeah, that's right, something like that was in the brochure...

“If you want to go straight to the city, then a high-speed maglev line is at your service (departure platform - A1-A5, check the information on the spot). Please note that the carriages have a segregated seating: blue - respected hosts, green - charters, red - guest races, black - entrance for the rest. We do not recommend getting into the red car without an experienced escort. We do not recommend getting into black cars even with an accompanying person.

In addition, air and land taxis are available at platforms B1-B10, and ferries are available at piers C1-C4. Please note that there is no segregation on ferries. Have a nice trip!"

Quietly swearing at the unknown compilers, Ernest went to the maglev. There was not much left of the severance pay after the distribution of family debts. The cost of a cab was not included in his budget. For now.

Already on the train, he suddenly found out for himself that an air taxi costs significantly less than a land taxi (everything is the will of the "owners", as they explained to him). And crime specifically in the train is near-zero, everything is the will of the “owners”. Here in the city itself, it can be tight in places. But if you choose an area with a good security service, then there is nothing to worry about. And if there is something about it, insurance, especially “blue”, will help. Well, yes, everything is the will of the "owners".

The city as a whole is still extremely human-like. Skyscrapers of the "new" city and squat buildings of the "old". No, no, yes, a blue monolith of the "master's" stone without windows ("permeable", as the guide suggested) flashed by. And also strange houses, as if carved from stone, and behind them bulky, “paper” hives of josers could be seen. And not only them. As the same pamphlet suggested, there were many people who lived in the Sawmill.

Ernest set up the snail clock at the airport, and now he could check the time with a clear conscience - more out of habit than out of necessity. So far, no one has clogged the network with interference. 11:45 local time, the immigration office of his firm is open until 19:00. There is time to get oriented and ride around the city on a sightseeing airship (advertising in the same brochure, the budget will pull). By the way, and here are the stalls of excursion companies can be seen right on the platform. It's good that the maglev slows down a lot in the city, the ex-combatant thought.

“Look,” the cashier in the bright blue uniform began to explain, “we have three main routes. Sightseeing tour at flight level one hundred and fifty, without landings. Four o'clock. Sightseeing tour with landings in the main areas, six hours. And a grand tour,” the young campaigner solemnly drawled, “nine hours, lunch on board, landings in areas, including suburbs. Believe me, there is something to see there, and only eight hundred crowns (this is if in the currency of the metropolis, of course) ...

“Yes,” Ernest cut him off. - I don't have much time. How much will the short tour cost?

“One hundred and fifty crowns,” the cashier muttered.

- What is the next departure?

— At twelve, there are still places.

Sign me up there if there's room. Thank you. Where is the departure from?

- Blue mast number three, go around the station on the right. Next!

Interestingly, thought Ernest, and "right" - is it facing the station, or away from it? However, if you trot, he will have time to check both options.

Fortunately, the first shot was on target. Indeed, to the right of the station (if you stand facing it) you could see low blue masts winking with marker lights. The number of the nearest matched the one indicated on the ticket. The luggage went to a secure cell, the pipe and the pouch went to the pocket of the jacket. It remains only to enter the elevator, listen to the enthusiastic chirping of students (and remember university days), unload on the platform and calmly enter a fairly spacious gondola.

— Good morning, or rather, it’s already afternoon, dear passengers! My name is Rolando, and today I will be your guide in the wonderful little world of the big City. If someone needs The City in Twenty-Five Pages, then my assistant Andronika will gladly give them to you free of charge,” the calm guide proclaimed, pointing to a thirty-two-tooth smiling girl waving her hand “from the elbow.” Our tour will last three hours...

Every time the same thing. However, the ex-combatant had a developed mechanism for ignoring rants. Ernest settled himself in the far corner of the gondola and began to unfold the map that came with the pamphlet. From a certain moment, he began to hate getting into places completely unfamiliar to him, and the city was just that completely unfamiliar to him. The front-left view was obscured by extensive red hair, but his personal porthole provided a pretty decent view.

Well, it's simple. The city pressed against the river by the southwestern border, beyond which lie certain "Pits" (close) and Hub (far), along with three more small areas and industrial enterprises. Now the airship takes off from the station area, and this is the southern outskirts of the Old City. It will pass over the Old and its Powerlessness plus the Citadel (more precisely, "their" Citadel). It will squeeze between the skyscrapers of the New, run over the Insectarium, hang over the Glass Pyramids and go down.

Well, for the first acquaintance - it will do.

“You can see the Foundation buildings below. The old city is characterized by its eclecticism, it was the first place in which the cultures of the “owners” and humanity began to interpenetrate ... - the guide muttered into a disgustingly working headset, while his assistant depicted a smiling chest of drawers and looked after the noisy passengers.

“Gods, are they like this everywhere?” said a young female voice into the void in front of Ernest.

“Professional deformation,” he muttered, not taking his eyes off the streets of Besilnya, lit by garlands even in the daytime. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pale gap appear in the red cloud, and turned his head.

Young woman. Young. Surprised. The face is beautiful, but very pale. Bright green eyes and dark makeup. Slightly upturned nose.

- Well, they don’t put their brains under pressure, do they?

- I don’t know about the press, but conditional instincts definitely change them. See.

Ernest, without taking his eyes off her, slowly put his hand in his pocket and took out the receiver.

- Mister, mister! came a voice on the verge of a nervous breakdown from the speakers. “Smoking is strictly prohibited in our airship!” Pick up the phone!

Ernest and the stranger burst out laughing, and the guide who instantly calmed down continued to mumble the memorized phrases. As soon as she stopped laughing, the redhead resolutely jerked herself to the back row, next to Ernest, and held out a thin palm.

— Agnett, laboratory assistant, postgraduate practice.

“Ernest, ex-combatant, post-war job.” A gentle handshake. Her hands are ice cold, the man thought inappropriately.

“Sounds like the beginning of a beautiful friendship, don’t you think?”