Location: City Airspace.
Location: Somewhere above the New City.
Time: Monday, 12:30.
They talked a lot. She talked about the importance of studying strangers, he - army tales. Over the Insectarium, Ernest poked fun at the habits of the Josers, and over the glass pyramids, Agnett commemorated her colleagues in the department. In general, it could be said that the flight was successful. Especially considering that the temporary unemployed and ex-combatant in general remembered the direction of the main streets and highways of the City.
“You shouldn’t be looking at the roads,” the redhead said categorically. - Look at the rooftops.
- Why did it happen?
- From some rooftops of the Old and New Towns, you can see half of the city.
Do you often jump on rooftops in heels?
Agnett chuckled into her fist, and then poked them in the shoulder. Lightly. But, nevertheless - unexpectedly for A.N.
- Fool. No, but they showed me one roof ... From it you can see four occultories, and the river. I really want to visit it during some of the star holidays of the "owners".
“And the river at sunset, isn’t it?”
- We'll find out now. Didn't get to her at this time of day.
The airship spent the final part of the flight along the river. Ernest finally found a way to turn up the volume on the excursion speaker, and the back row of the gondola spent the whole time over the river in silence. This somewhat calmed the rather nervous Rolando, who had seen everything during his work. And the back row silently admired the rich blue color of the slowly flowing river. Well, the beginning of the sunset of the first of the three suns, of course.
On network forums, it was advised to watch only the first sunset. Starting slowly and imperceptibly, but ending the day in deep twilight after the end. Ernest remembered the advice. Agnett, apparently, too - almost all the time they were looking out the window over the river. Only when the ship began to descend did he feel the insistent clapping of his fingers through the material of the sleeve.
"We're descending," the redhead remarked, pointing her chin at the approaching ground.
— Um, oh yes. It was nice talking to you, Agnett.
The girl smiled tightly and turned away. It dawned on Ernest what a faux pas he had made, so he made an attempt to recapture the position:
- Can we talk more? I don't have a local registration, but I don't think...
Me too, don't worry.
- And how can we be? The ex-combatant raised an eyebrow.
“Please, buckle up,” puzzled Andronika quickly moved between the seats. “We're descending and landing within ten minutes.
“Come on,” said Ernest quickly. “I will be free tonight. Quite in the evening. Set a day, place, and time, and I'll be there.
“Hmm…” Agnett thought emphatically. The ground was getting closer and faster. - And I will have a very busy week, I need to think.
And the next six months? Ernest smiled wryly. His answer was a melodic laugh.
— It's not that bad. Well, today I'll be free too... - she hesitated - in the evening. If you insist...
— I insist.
- Let me think.
The airship gently bumped into the mooring mast. After a couple of minutes, the mooring officers fixed him, and Rolando, tired of calming the passengers who jumped up, silently opened the exit hatch. Passengers climbed briskly away, not listening to the standard phrases of the end of the flight. Already at the exit, politely saying goodbye to the noticeably cheered up guide, pilot and conductor, Ernest drew attention to the time. 16-30. Too much. Damn, he thought, what if the delay was not half an hour, but an hour? And so it’s not a fact that he will have time - and then, according to old memory, he will have to spend the night in the open.
- Thinking?
Agnett, who followed, was clearly confused in her hands and accessories. Ernest calmly took the girl's small (but very heavy) backpack and takes it while the fellow traveler dealt with the sleeves of the green coat and gloves. It was getting colder.
“I don’t want to think here when you are delaying the answer.
“Funny…” the redhead rolled her eyes. But with a slight smile. - Come on. There is a cafe-bar in the Old City. It's called Dirty Harry. I'll be waiting for you there at ten o'clock. And up to ten or thirty. How do you like this arrangement?
- It's coming.
- See you then, - Agnett winked and turned around on the spot.
Soon her green coat disappeared into the crowd. Ernest stood awkwardly for a while. Then he shook himself and went to the cell. He wasn't going to trust storage cells in an unfamiliar city yet.
I’ll have to buy a trench coat from the first paycheck, Ernest thought inappropriately, somehow distracted from the memories of Agnett. The uniform jacket, although it was comfortable, was not at all conducive to gatherings with girls.
He found an office pretty quickly. In fact, her building was located a twenty-minute walk from the station. Well, as a "building" - a shell sandwiched between two massive buildings. One of dozens of these in the city. And one of the thousands with a segregation green badge. Everyone, except for the Charterers and the hosts, is not allowed to enter.
It was not in Ernest's habits to enter the room without looking at the escape routes. But there was little time left. And inside there were probably rooms with full benches of the same goners as himself. Whether the freshly baked expat wanted it or not, he had to go right away. and A.N. made up my mind.
The bell rang on the front door. Before Ernest had time to open his mouth, he was already met by a run-out campaigner.
- Good evening, good evening. We are always pleased to see a relative.
"Yes... me too," the ex-combatant grimaced.
— Please take a ticket and wait for your call.
Talon in the age of the laser and the cryogenic fugue, not bad, thought Ernest. But he took the paper. However, he did not have to wait long - as soon as he took off his hat and jacket, his number was called to the sixth window. A calm woman with a reassuring smile was already waiting for him at the counter.
- Hello. Ernest A En.
- Good evening. Your ID card, please... All right, all right. The package of documents is ready, there is no need to wait. You must be fingerprinted right away. If you hand over tissue samples and a pheromone trail, you will receive a discount on the “red” class insurance. Fifteen percent. Believe me, this is a good offer.
The woman at the desk looked friendly and sympathetic. But the feeling of doubt that had grown during the service made itself felt by A.N.
“Thanks, I’ll refuse,” Ernest grimaced and raised his index finger. A non-contact scanner popped out of the table top. He read his fingerprint, blinked and disappeared.
“So… you have a canceled bankruptcy filing, don’t you?”
- Exactly.
- The "owners" do not care about them, and most of the other financial institutions. But…” the bureaucrat even leaned confidentially, “If you need a loan, it’s completely unofficial…”
“Thank you, I’ll refuse this offer as well,” Ernest smiled coldly.
“Well, then it's all right. Your apartment is in a very convenient location. Old City, lane 15b, building 22, apartment 812. The place, of course, has a normal name, but it is on the "master" and it is not indicated in the papers.
- I am completely satisfied.
- If you do not find a formal job within two weeks, you will be deprived of the right to social housing. If within four, you will be deported.
A.N. raised his eyebrows. He understood that the migration office in the Metropolis kept silent about a lot. But now the suspicion crept into him that not much had been said. Maybe instead of deportation they will let him go to kebab? Who knows the local traditions?
- Wow, famously, - only Ernest managed to squeeze out of himself. It is strange that I was not told about such nuances before departure.
“Oh, my dear, there is a lot of things they are silent about,” the female bureaucrat suddenly switched to “you”. - After three months of permanent work, the residence permit is extended until the end of the year. Every year you must write a report on the availability of work.
“Sounds like it, to be honest. And when will they give a look not for a year?
— After three years of living in the city. But don't worry, here's to you... - a pile of booklets appeared on the counter - ... a stack of current vacancies. Are you good at something?
“Something and a little on top,” Ernest chuckled.
“Then you’ll find a job even before you say the full name of the city.” So, here's the package with your ID card. You can leave the old one as a talisman - it is almost never accepted anywhere. The package contains an activation code for a collection of basic city laws, you can d******d the full one yourself. Communicator please. Done, it's registered now. Sign here and you are a free charter, congratulations!
Green blank. Ernest looked at the light - the watermarks are clear. He brought it to an ultraviolet lamp - the watermarks came to life, as if jumped out into space.
- Every time I am surprised by their technologies, like the first, - the woman sighed.
Archaic pen. Painting. Second copy, pen again, painting again.
The package of documents went into the army pressurized backpack taken from the suitcase. Essential items were also moved there - tobacco, a pipe cleaner, some cash and an umbrella. But Ernest imperceptibly put brass knuckles in his jacket. He, of course, had heard a lot about the right of residents (or Charterers, he still confused these concepts) to weapons. Including cold. But have not yet felt this right.
For now.
Landing Page : Old City Old Newspaper
Title : Ao_Ao Group Spokesman - Crime within the Statistical Norm
Host Approved : yes
Ao_Ao Group spokesman Neil Wagelhof commented to our journalist on the topic of complaints from residents of the southwestern part of the Old City. According to Mr. Wagelhof, the degree of activity of criminals is significantly exaggerated by rumors.
- There are no organized gangs in the territory under our jurisdiction. As you know, Ao_Ao controls exclusively "green" areas and solely on private insurance funds. Thus, we are not dependent on municipal contributions and are able to conduct business independently. The crime detection rate is high at 56%.
Recall that earlier residents of the lane "Thirteen Be" and several adjacent complained about several gangs, consisting of juvenile representatives of the human race. An anonymous source reports that not so long ago he caught three teenagers brandishing melee weapons right on the sidewalk, one of whom, in addition, was equipped with a kinetic pistol. However, Wagelhof denies the possibility of such a situation:
- No, it can't be. The only gang that has existed for the past three weeks is the Joser gang from the Vagut hive. It was liquidated a week ago, and since then large criminal formations have not climbed into the areas under our control.
The civilians interviewed by our correspondent reacted ambiguously to the retelling of Mr. Wagelhof's speech. Unfortunately, we cannot accurately convey their statements for reasons of editorial policy. Note, however, that the angry reviews included at least eight unrelated offenses punishable by at least third-degree disciplinary action.
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
Location: New City.Location: Agni Corporation Security Headquarters.Time: Monday, 20-25 local time.The recruiting center was open 24/7. A typical building of glass, attached to the edge of a block of shabby, weathered warehouses. Or warehouses. As the network had previously suggested to Ernest, this particular block was the headquarters of AgniCorp. Where the future candidate went, barely paying for dinner. By the way, the price was really tolerable for the wallet.However, he was not received as kindly as in previous places in the city. Well, except for the memorial gate at thirteenth "A" lane. None of the employees even looked up when the bell at the front door tinkled. Finally, one of them stood up, shoved a packet of forms under his nose, and walked back to the desk. But not to work.“Lord God and Blessed Mary, meat again,” sighed the man, whose whole appearance (gray hair, windburn, a burn spider on his face, a crooked scar from the Djoser mandible) hinted at the characterizat
- 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: 22-10 local time.Although the establishment was proudly called a "cafe-bar", in Ernest's hometown these were usually called "The Hole in the Wall". A narrow room, the smoke stands in a column so that you can hang a holster on it, normal tables are only on the street. True, unlike the memorable "holes", this one, at first glance, looked very decent.Wooden wall panels (albeit withered), not devoid of grace lamps (albeit providing little dim light). Visitors drink cocktails not entirely from Collins and shots. The ash is shaken off not on the floor, but in ceramic ashtrays. And even the bouncer was dressed clean, and not in work overalls. In general, at first glance, not bad.Landing Page : Lights in the Wasteland!Headline : Expert: Bars of the so-called "Powerless" are steadily losing popularity.Host Approved : yesVideo broadcast. A small room crammed with emphatically archaic radio equipment. Electronic lamps burn through
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: Soap factories .Location: Sour Gang HeadquartersTime: 19-30 local time. Two weeks from the arrival of the Candidate. Spring season.Everyone, regardless of segregation color, gender and age, could enter the “sour” base at any time of the day. This was an unofficial rule established since the days of Jolly Dimmy's youth. Guests could ask for help, cooperation, trade. Or - try your luck along with prowess. That is - to try to join the ranks of the "sour".So you want to join a gang? Have you licked milk from your lips?The “bulls” surrounding the leader began to cackle. Funny Dimmy looked at the trio with distaste. Bulls felt out of place. But the skinny one was impudent, despite the yellow marks on his face and roughly stitched cut marks. Recently, he was beaten very seriously - as well as the rest of the newcomers. Whoever did it - Dimmi was ready to take him into the number of "sour" immediately. But with these goldfinches you will need to tinker.“Man, we have five corps
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
According to the landing page "Old New Ultracity" (that's us!), this morning the inhabitants of the decent island of Token (which, according to Mr. Ekaterina, admire the lazy dockers of the embankment) again could not sleep. For once, the reason for such paradoxical behavior was not a noisy feast, not a scandal preceding a divorce, and even, oh gods, not a visit from an annoyed "owner".This time, the inhabitants of the Pits forgot to ask their neighbors about the time and habitually began to cut each other in another war right in the middle of the night. According to our very exclusive source, who was fishing for shrimp at night (regular shrimp, not langus. Great "hosts", do not send us to khurtukul or something consonant), this time was really restless.Word to our source!An old fisherman appears in the frame. If not for a clean-shaven face, he could even now go on the cover of the next reissue of The Old Man and the Sea."What can you say about tonight, Mr. Harry?"- There were sh