Industrial espionage
We go the second day.
Yesterday nothing – rain, green, fresh wind, and this morning we woke up in a hot, dumb-drained wagon. It seems that our train has become the personal enemy of the sun itself. A martian sandy landscape. Marsians are found very rarely and mostly on camels from the zoo.
I am twelve years old and I go with my parents to my grandmother in Frunze. He reworked all the vagon affairs – licked the door handles with microbes, belonged to different shelves, ran through the corridor. All of. I was riding. I was already angry with the train and the heat and the boring martian spaces, and to go for two more days.
The only pleasure is the local cemeteries. Beautiful and colorful, like cities from Eastern fairy tales, but the living on this planet are around small, dirty, clay bugs.
Liquid passengers, waving through the magazines, began to roar:
- Comrade conductor, open the window in our shop, even if the wind blows.
The conductor with a complacent smile explained:
There is no air conditioning in the car.
When is the nearest station to fly?
After four and a half hours, parking for two minutes.
And it is true that there are few inhabited stations on Mars, so half-stations are so rare. Thank you, even if the railway has not yet failed in the sand.
The people were tired and two hours before the stop began to create a live line in the corridor to be in the front rows of those who will get the long-awaited 120 seconds of fresh Mars wind.
The last ten minutes of humor at the turn ended, and she was jealous of the cleanliness of her ranks: “E! Oh man though! You got out of the bathroom, so go to your shop! The smartest one? “The first!” and
Do you, grandmother, want to pick up a bowl? Please pass by, but then don’t hide behind Titan.”
The conductor, of course, knew - what would happen next and this turn was noticeably fun.
The train stopped.
Now open the door. What is so slow? Impossible already!
Don’t push, it’s enough...I’m already opening.
The door opened and the first in a row, the lucky man ate full breasts of burning Martian oxygen.
The effect is like breathing under a blanket over a potato, but the whispering tail of the row, because he did not know that for two minutes the door to the steam boiler opened.
A sweaty, fun conductor closing the door:
Did everyone breathe, or did anyone fail?
Only now people realized that the air conditioner in the car is still working and not bad. Everything is known in comparison.
A few minutes after the unsuccessful mass attempt to go out into outer space, the conductor passed through the wagon knocking on the door and pronouncing a magical spell:
The cold water! Who has cold water? One bottle without the cost of dishes is fifty copies.
After a few kilometers, all the thirsty were drunk with nutritious moisture, not tearing away from their throat, like pioneers.
I started chanting:
– Dad, give me money, I’ll buy cold water.
My father didn’t give me money, but he wasn’t lazy and went with me.
The conductor in the agitation of the money conveyor, concentrated filling a battery of bottles from a drinking crane:
No guys. Until it was cold, all the cold was already drunk. Come to
In half an hour.
have arrived.
How many bottles do you have?
and Dad:
One for trial.
The conductor:
“Well, get out of the box while I get the water out of the refrigerator.
In front of us, the door of his chamber crumbled, but after a couple of seconds it opened and the conductor handed us a cold glass bomb. Even just pressing her to herself was already happiness.
It seemed to us that the whole family had devastated the bottle faster than the water had leaked out.
I am :
– Daddy, I’ll go and buy it while it’s cold.
The father was sitting thinking looking at the empty glass bottle:
“No, son, we will not buy from him anymore, but we will do it.
of industrial espionage. Go away, look unnoticed – he always drives out
People from their coupe when they climb into the refrigerator for water?
I got the information and:
He drives everyone out and closes the door.
Dad wipes his hands:
“It’s very good, I thought so, so he doesn’t have anything at all.
The refrigerator...
I am :
You don’t have a refrigerator, Dad. We were drinking.
and Dad:
Wait, be quiet, don’t bother, I’ll think about what we can do now.
The refrigerator.

My dad was the smartest man in the world and could do anything out of nothing and knew the answer to any of my questions. I just asked him about all the nonsense.
So he left, carrying countless vital answers, leaving me with a few questions.

I went into the upper shelf and watched him reflect while painting on the fields of the newspaper. It was clear that one way or another, Daddy’s refrigerator would be built, but from what? Where will he take the white iron box with the door, and even so that it screams and the light bulb burns inside?
Dad painted unfamiliar formulas to me at the time (unfortunately, I have not become friends with all of them now) He even drew our conductor in a feed and with a bottle of water in his hands. Sometimes the father thought out loudly, "He has a rosette, but he doesn't need it, because without a rosette no one will intercept his know-how." “Oh, there would be a reference for thermal conductivity... The glass is about one and a half, the water is half or a little less. What does this give us?
“Thank you, fucking, let’s go on the other side.”

It was seen that he was getting a huge pleasure from the emergence of an unexpected task, because all the newspapers were re-read yesterday and the brain needed work.
Soon I got tired of looking at the printed edges of the newspapers, and we haven’t started building the refrigerator yet. And how to get the cold, if in the box forty, and on the street fifty...?
I went out to the hallway and talked to the boy. Beside us was my mom, then with tea, then with washed tomatoes.
An hour passed, the door of our coupe opened behind the back, a dad stood on the threshold with the playfully unburdened face of the wizard (which could only be with him) and routinely stretched me a bottle of water:
Drink water and serve the boy.
The water was neither cold nor even cold, it was ice!
In terms of the temperature in the monetary equivalent, it pulled not a penny and a half, but at least twenty rubles.
I, grabbed by the frozen jaw, broke into the bucket, but the refrigerator was nowhere.
So we with an unlimited source of cold water and drove to my grandmother, I stupidly even got cold in my throat.
The refrigerator itself disappointed me somewhat with its simplicity.
No white box, no light inside.

With the help of a strap from the belt and the key from the apartment, Dad opened our window, wrapped two bottles of water in very wet towels, put it all in an avosque and hanged it behind the window. Twenty minutes, and the teeth are not brushed from the cold.