The Winter. The morning. Construction of a gas pipeline. It is bright, but there are also reflectors and lights. Against the uneven structure of workers and masters in new orange helmets stands the chief engineer of the office, in a white helmet on the fur armor.



Behind it a small, twelve-ton pipeline with an expanded arrow. The hose of the pipeline is half-lowed and slightly swirled by the wind.



Snoring from the permeability and the constant oath of the voice, the main, habitually screams the pipe and whisper of the wind. He is lecturing on industrial safety. A light frost at minus twenty-four. One degree is missing. Those who flew out of the main word freeze and fall on the still clear morning snow.



In the cabin of the pipeline carrier is a poorly awakened machinery driver. There is warm. He is asleep and does not notice that he is a little "missing", gradually grinding his hook.



- Today, my dear ones, on the track General of the State Gortechnadzor. And if one of you, a fox, is noticed by them without a helmet, then his comrades will bury in this trunk without any excavator, using a keil and a toothbrush. And the one who thinks that a helmet on the track is not necessary, let him say immediately, in order not to torture comrades, I will explain everything to him popularly with the help of the hands, - the chief shows the structure, hidden in a fur gloves, - and I will show very intelligently on examples...



at this time. Hunted by another wind blow of the pipeline. Carefully ticks the head on the white helmet. in the back. Gak is small, but heavy. The main falls.



The people are staring at the main circus with examples of industrial safety.



- Approximately in this way, - the slightly contured chief rises up and removes the helmet, in order to scratch the broken spot, - and there would be no helmet...



He spreads his hands to the sides and lowers his head, showing with all his appearance the hopelessness of being when without a helmet. He cannot negotiate. The fucking jack. Submitting to the next momentum of the wind beats the main right in the forehead. and easy. This time, the principal doesn’t even fall, but just rolls.



“Without a helmet,” he concludes his lecture, “it would have been much more painful. And some who now have me, regardless of the helmet, jump to an accident at work.



And under the friendly rust of the people who are diverging on the cars climbs into the cabin of the pipeline maker. A sleeping driver.