Tver State Technical University (TSTU). Tver State Technical University: description, faculties, program and reviews

University (TSTU, TVSTU). It is of interest to many applicants high quality educational process, qualified and dynamic teaching staff, availability of budget places. What faculties are there in the university? Is there a branch of Tver State Technical University? Let's find answers to these and other important questions.

Creation of a university in Moscow

In 1922, an educational institution was founded in Moscow. It was called the Marine Peat Institute. After opening, the institution did not exist for long. After a short period of time, it was combined with one academy that trains personnel for Agriculture. In the future, the educational institution became part of the Mining Academy, and thus it lost its independence.

A new period in the history of the university began in 1930. The peat institute was revived again in Moscow. He gained independence and continued the previously begun activities for the training of qualified personnel. In Moscow, the university functioned until 1958. Then it was decided to transfer him to Kalinin (as the city of Tver was previously called).

Development of institutions in Kalinin and Tver

For several years, the educational institution was called the Kalinin Peat Institute. Then the names were changed:

in 1965 the university became known as Kalininsky;
in 1990 it was renamed due to the change in the name of the city;
In 1994, the university received its modern name.

Today Tver State Technical University is one of the famous educational organizations in Russia. TVSTU is famous for its history, traditions, rich experience of educational and scientific activity.

Facts about the university

To get to know TvSTU better and find out its advantages, it is worth considering some facts related to the activities of the educational institution:

over the entire period of its existence, the institution has trained more than 60 thousand specialists who are currently working in various enterprises cities, regions, are teachers in universities, scientists;
the teaching staff of the university consists of professors, doctors, associate professors and candidates of science, honored workers of technology and science;
in last years the university strives to provide students with modern higher education, so it pays special attention to building up the material and technical base (equipping computer classes, laboratories);
the university is successfully developing international connections, establishes contacts with universities from Germany, the Czech Republic, Finland, China and other foreign countries.

The structure of the educational institution

Tverskoy consists of faculties:

Engineering. This structural unit has been operating since 1965. It trains engineers, bachelors and masters for the machine-building complex.
Engineering and construction. The structural subdivision arose in 1930 in the form of a department. During the entire period of its existence, it has produced and continues to produce specialists for the production of building materials, the design and construction of civil and industrial buildings, highways and airfields.
Engineering ecology and nature management. The faculty, which has been operating since 1988, offers such areas as "Mining", "Rational use natural resources and security environment" and etc.
Chemical-technological. This structural subdivision trains chemical technologists in several areas.
Social communications and management. This faculty offers the most relevant and popular specialties. “Bukh. accounting, analysis and audit", "Psychology", "Management of the organization" - this is only a small part of them.
Information technologies. The division was created in 2011 to train specialists who will be engaged in instrumentation, software engineering, biomedical engineering, etc.

Additional faculties

Considering the Tver State Technical University, the faculties of this university, it is worth paying attention to the correspondence structural unit. It is of interest to many applicants. Its history began in 1931, when a extramural learning. The faculty does not train students in all existing areas. Distance learning is allowed only in some specialties, the list of which should be clarified in the selection committee.

Another structural unit at the Tver State Technical University is the Faculty of International Economic Cooperation. It was founded in 1979. The purpose of the structural unit is to prepare foreign citizens to study in Russia. Over the years of its existence, work has been carried out with 3 thousand people from different corners peace. More than 400 people received diplomas of higher education.

The best educational programs at the university

Education at the university is implemented according to a wide range of programs. Some of them are named the best. In 2017, Tver State Technical University took part in a project called "The Best Educational Programs of the Innovative Russian Federation - 2017". The university became the winner, and the rector received thank you letter. It listed the finalist programs:

"Informatics and Computer Engineering";
"Construction";
"Electrical engineering and electric power industry";
"Applied Informatics";
"Cadastres and land management";
"Biotechnology";
"Sociology".

Tver State Technical University: branches and university reviews

TVSTU has 3 branches:

Vyshnevolotsky - Vyshny Volochek, Demyan Bedny street, 72/64;
Rzhevsky - Rzhev, Lenin street, 5;
Torzhoksky - Torzhok, Leningrad highway, 44.

Students respond positively about the higher educational institution and its branches. Students admire the strong teaching staff, modern logistics, the availability of budget places and hostels.

Graduates, estimating the Tver State Technical University, also leave good ones. People write that they were able to find a job pretty quickly after graduation. Employers are attracted by a diploma from the Tver State Technical University. This is confirmed by the university demand rating for 2016. TVSTU ranks 69th among 132 engineering universities. At the same time, it should be noted that the place in the ranking has risen by 22 positions compared to the data for 2015.

In conclusion, it should be noted that TSTU (Tver State Technical University) is one of the leading universities in the country. He established strong contacts with employers. This is a definite plus for students. For an internship, you can go to any partner company, demonstrate your knowledge and skills, interest management in your candidacy, and later, after graduation, get a suitable position.

Zinaida Nekhaeva became a laureate in the nomination "Head of the Year". Winners and laureates of the Russian national award"Student of the Year - 2018", which brought together 400 applicants from 63 regions of the country in the capital of Tatarstan. The expert jury determined the best in the field of science, professional skills, creativity, sports, journalism, youth policy, student leadership, social activities and volunteerism.
Tverigrad, 11/26/2018

TVSTU entered the subject ranking of world universities RUR - 2018

The university occupies 527th place in the world segment. The RUR rating agency has presented the international subject ranking http://roundranking.com/universities/universitiess.htmlsort=O&year=2018&subject=SO ect Rankings 2018. World universities, in particular, are rated in two major areas of training - in technical and natural sciences. The RUR rating uses 20 evaluation indicators, which are grouped into four measurement groups: teaching quality; research quality; level of internationalization; level of financial stability. To the latest edition of the global study...
Tverigrad, 02.10.2018

Tver Polytechnic University entered the top 100 Russian universities in the ARES-2018 international ranking

Tver State Technical University took 99th place. In the next international ranking of universities ARES (Academic ranking of world universities-european standard) Tver Polytechnic University took the penultimate position in the top hundred Russian universities. - TVSTU is in the 99th position with the BB assessment category - the reliable quality of teaching, scientific activity and the demand for graduates by employers, - they explain at the Polytechnic University. In total, 188 Russian universities are represented in ARES - 2018 that have overcome the C milestone (adequate quality of teaching, research activities...
Tverigrad, 09/19/2018

Tver Polytechnic University entered the reputation rating of the international agency

TvSTU is included in the international ranking of universities for the second time in a row. The reputation rating RUR-2018 was released by the publisher international ranking universities rating agency Round University Ranking. The basis of the RUR is a survey of 10,000 members of the academic community. Respondents are asked to select up to 15 universities that are the best in terms of the quality of teaching and the level of research from the point of view of the survey participants. Only 70 Russian universities out of almost 300 universities were included in the 2018 ranking. Tver State Technical University is the only university in the Tver region that...
Tverigrad, 09/11/2018

Volunteers of the Polytechnic University visited the children in the rehabilitation center

Volunteers of the volunteer center of TvSTU "DobroTech" visited the social rehabilitation center for minors "Nadezhda" in Rameshki. On June 1, International Children's Day, students held master classes in soap making, decorating plaster toys, and learned how to make hairpins for the pupils of the rehabilitation center. After that, together with the volunteers, the children went to play football. The program ended with a joint tea party. If you find an error, [...]
Tverigrad, 06/07/2018

Tver universities are not included in the TOP-100 best in Russia according to the RAEX agency

According to the agency, the best of Tver universities occupies only 147th place in the rating. On Wednesday, June 6, the RAEX rating agency presented the seventh annual rating of higher educational institutions in the country. When compiling it, statistical data were used, as well as the results of surveys among 30 thousand respondents: representatives of academic and scientific circles, students and graduates, and employers. The ranking shows that 50 [...]
Tverigrad, 06/06/2018

Tver State Technical University (TVSTU, formerly TSTU)
View of the chemical-technological building
Year of foundation
Rector	B.V. Palyukh
Location	Russia , Tver
Legal address	170026, Tver, emb. Afanasia Nikitina, 22
Website

Tver State Technical University(up to a year Tver Polytechnic Institute) - one of the largest higher educational institutions of the Russian Federation.

The creation of MIT ensured the scientific and technical development of the peat industry. In 1940, N. A. Nasedkin defended the first doctoral dissertation at MIT, modern educational and research laboratories were created.
By the beginning of the Great Patriotic War, the number of students was already 1100 people. During the war, the institute was partially evacuated to Sverdlovsk; in Moscow, a sector was created to fulfill defense orders. Under the guidance of Professor N. A. Nasedkin, the patency of tanks in wetlands was studied. Professor M. P. Volarovich investigated the problem of the optimal composition of lubricating oils to facilitate starting engines at low temperatures. Under the guidance of Professor S. S. Dragunov, designs of heating pads for soldiers based on peat chips were developed. During the war, a branch of the institute was opened in Orekhovo-Zuyevo. In 1943 the institute returned from evacuation to Moscow.

In 1930-1958, when the Institute was operating in Moscow, 3,949 engineers were trained as mechanics, technologists, hydraulic engineers, and railway engineers. Well-known scientists taught at the university, in particular Corresponding Member of the USSR Academy of Sciences V. V. Sokolovsky and Corresponding Member of the Academy of Sciences of the BSSR V. E. Rakovsky. In 1958, the institute was transferred to Kalinin and was named the Kalinin Peat Institute (KTI). In the 1958-1959 academic year, a first-year enrollment (200 people) was made in Kalinin, and senior courses continued their studies in Moscow. By 1960, 184 people taught at the institute, 60% of them came from Moscow.

In the 90s there was a reduction in the number of students and teachers of the university, as well as the number of faculties and departments. Reception was reduced from 1475 to 1100, and then to 950 people. The university is working on the transition to a multi-level system of training specialists, the structure of specialties has been significantly changed, new areas of training of specialists have been opened: “Environmental Engineering”, “Management”, “Psychology”, “Chemistry”, “Biotechnology”, “ Information Systems in economics”, “Instrument making”. In 1994, the institute received the status of a state technical university. By 1997, the university had 7 academic buildings and buildings with a total area of over 57,000 sq.m.

During its work in Tver, the university has trained more than 60 thousand specialists and scientists. Among the graduates are scientists and teachers, heads of large enterprises and organizations, well-known managers, statesmen, political and public figures.

Since 2007, the position of the President of the University has been introduced, which was occupied by Vyacheslav Mironov, who was previously the rector of TVSTU.

University rectors

P. P. Fedorov (1930)
D. A. Klyushnikov (1931 - 1933)
V. I. Penkovich (1933 - 1935)
M. P. Golovchansky (1935 - 1936)
I. I. Radchenko (1936 - 1938)
I. S. Konontsev (1938 - 1939)
S. A. Tsuprov (1939-1940, 1944 - 1950)
I. E. Belokopytov (1940 - 1944)
B. P. Kazantsev (1951 - 1952)
M. V. Bulochnikov (1953 - 1956)
S. G. Solopov (1956 - 1958)
M. A. Chulyukov (1959 - 1962)
V. D. Gvozdev (1963 - 1969)
I. F. Largin (1969 - 1977)
V. G. Zubchaninov (1977-1987)
V. A. Mironov (1987 - 1997)
A. I. Matveev (1997 - 2001) (acting)
E. M. Sulman (2001 - 2002) (acting)
V. A. Mironov (2002 - 2007)
B.V. Palyukh (2007 - present)

University presidents

V. A. Mironov (2007 - present)

Faculties

Notes

Categories:

Universities alphabetically
Appeared in 1922
Universities of Tver
Higher educational institutions of Tver
Higher technical educational institutions of Russia

Wikimedia Foundation. 2010 .

Irving
Lazarists

See what "Tver State Technical University" is in other dictionaries:

Tver State Technical University- Tver, Athanasius Nikitin embankment, 22. Psychology. (Bim Bad B.M. Pedagogical Encyclopedic Dictionary. M., 2002. S. 474) See also Universities Ch489.514(2)7 ... Pedagogical terminological dictionary

Tver State Technical University (TVSTU, formerly TSTU)
View of the chemical-technological building
Year of foundation
Rector	B.V. Palyukh
Location	Russia , Tver
Legal address	170026, Tver, emb. Afanasia Nikitina, 22
Website

Tver State Technical University(up to a year Tver Polytechnic Institute) - one of the largest higher educational institutions of the Russian Federation.

In the 90s there was a reduction in the number of students and teachers of the university, as well as the number of faculties and departments. Reception was reduced from 1475 to 1100, and then to 950 people. The university is working on the transition to a multi-level system of training specialists, the structure of specialties has been significantly changed, new areas of training specialists have been opened: "Environmental Engineering", "Management", "Psychology", "Chemistry", "Biotechnology", "Information Systems in Economics", "Instrument making". In 1994, the institute received the status of a state technical university. By 1997, the university had 7 academic buildings and buildings with a total area of over 57,000 sq.m.

Since 2007, the position of the President of the University has been introduced, which was occupied by Vyacheslav Mironov, who was previously the rector of TVSTU.

University rectors

P. P. Fedorov (1930)
D. A. Klyushnikov (1931 - 1933)
V. I. Penkovich (1933 - 1935)
M. P. Golovchansky (1935 - 1936)
I. I. Radchenko (1936 - 1938)
I. S. Konontsev (1938 - 1939)
S. A. Tsuprov (1939-1940, 1944 - 1950)
I. E. Belokopytov (1940 - 1944)
B. P. Kazantsev (1951 - 1952)
M. V. Bulochnikov (1953 - 1956)
S. G. Solopov (1956 - 1958)
M. A. Chulyukov (1959 - 1962)
V. D. Gvozdev (1963 - 1969)
I. F. Largin (1969 - 1977)
V. G. Zubchaninov (1977-1987)
V. A. Mironov (1987 - 1997)
A. I. Matveev (1997 - 2001) (acting)
E. M. Sulman (2001 - 2002) (acting)
V. A. Mironov (2002 - 2007)
B.V. Palyukh (2007 - present)

University presidents

V. A. Mironov (2007 - present)

Faculties

Notes

Categories:

Universities alphabetically
Appeared in 1922
Universities of Tver
Higher educational institutions of Tver
Higher technical educational institutions of Russia

Wikimedia Foundation. 2010 .

See what "Tver State Technical University" is in other dictionaries:

All characters and events are fictional, any resemblance to real people is coincidental.

Preface.
I will completely repeat what I wrote in the preface to the preface of the Kalinin Polytechnic ...
What is the scariest thing in the world for you? Death? One short moment and there is nothing. No fear, no pain. Waiting for death? Maybe a month, maybe a year, maybe more. It will still come this moment after which there is nothing.
The worst thing in your life is the death of your children and the people closest to you. My life rolled measuredly and almost calmly, diaries with "memories" gathered dust in the country attic, the closest, the closest ones walked next to me. And memory lowered an impenetrable curtain. And suddenly an explosion from the past, and the curtain turned out to be transparent as glass.
And now the lovely women who saw themselves in my heroine ... I will disappoint you. It's not you. I did not write about you and did not remember you. Quite different I had in mind. Yes, and I would not have written about her like that if one terrible day I had not been struck by the news of her death. (A completely stupid coincidence made me think this way for half a year. Then everything will be cleared up, everyone will be alive and well. I will again leave the diaries on the mezzanine. But before that, a terrible HALF YEAR will pass).

The “recognisers” got sick of their raids, and I removed the phone number and “soap”. If you consider yourself tall, beautiful, sophisticated... Consider yourself. The flag is in your hands.

And further. I assure everyone who caught in my characters (not heroic) resemblance to myself - I did not want to offend anyone, smoothing out everything that is possible and impossible. And what's important. Smart understood correctly and reacted adequately. Fools offended to death. And some saw the "Jewish question." I'll be honest. I knew teachers with typical Russian surnames. But the Jewish ones sound more believable and fit better to the ear.

1989
On Thursday, Zaitsev unexpectedly called. Yuri Vladimirovich had just laid a plate of sandwiches in an outlandish cupboard called a microwave oven. There was a cup of coffee on the table.
Unexpected calls are always inopportune. Especially when you're in a hurry to work. Grigoriev was in a hurry. Given that the working day started an hour ago.
Anyone could call. Maya secretary. Or Svetlana - a woman waiting for words that he will never say.
Grigoriev slammed the door of the microwave, set the time, pressed START, and belatedly realized that they were calling long distance. In two jumps I was at the apparatus, grabbed the receiver and heard nothing. At the other end, without waiting for an answer, they hung up.
“Listen,” he shouted into the phone.
Will they suddenly hear?
- Don't shout, - answered the tube, - I'm not deaf.
Probably the caller has the wrong number. Grigoriev did not recognize the voice.
“Who do you want?” he asked, irritated.
- You, - they answered the phone, - I'm Zaitsev - your former friend.
Sasha. How did he not recognize it? Doesn't sound like a voice. Not simular.
- I didn't recognize you, - Grigoriev confessed, - Haven't you been ill for an hour?
Zaitsev ignored the question.
“When will you be in Tver?” he asked.
In the coming days, Grigoriev was not going to the regional center and asked carefully.
- And what?
- I need to talk to you.
- I do not know…. Maybe in a week, maybe in two. We'll see how it goes.
- I need it urgently.
- Come yourself.
- I would come ... If I could.
The voice is unrecognizable and the words are strange.
- Why can not you? Something with health? - Grigoriev was again cautious.
- Something like that.
- Good. I will arrive today at two o'clock.
Hung up reluctantly. That's always how it is. You plan things, write them down by the minute. So cleverly put everything together. And bam - an unexpected call.
For the first time in years, he drank coffee without tasting it. He looked in surprise at the blurry black smudges on the porcelain walls. The stove tinkled resentfully, reminding me of sandwiches.
- What does Sasha want? Why so urgent? Strange speech, strange voice. He cannot come himself. Seriously sick? It looks like it.
He pushed the thoughts away.
- I'll find out everything at two o'clock, and now it's just business.

At the entrance, a dark gray "nine" crouched lonely. The morning sun splashed iridescent reflections on the roof. Cars in Volzhsk were kept in garages at night. Thefts happened, and more often the wheels were removed or the radio tape recorders were torn out. At the cars that spent the night in the yards, the residents looked askance and even more askance at the owners. The logic is clear. He is not afraid of theft, which means either he is in the "case" or he solved the problem with those who are in the "case".
So the neighbor from the sixth floor squinted unfriendly, but greeted him ingratiatingly. Grigoriev casually nodded, turned on the ignition and, without warming up the engine, touched the car. Grigoriev was not interested in gossip. In a heavenly place surrounded by pine trees, fifty meters from the shore, an amazing two-story house was being completed. And that means very soon there will be no annoying neighbors sticking their noses everywhere. How he dreamed about it.
"Lada" got out on the avenue. Tires rustled elastically on the asphalt. Nice dynamic car. It's a pity the suspension is not as soft as in the "classic". Three years ago in Berlin, Grigoriev drove a BMW. Here is the "apparatus". Would get one like this. There is money. But it's scary. In the courtyard of the 89th year. Cooperatives have risen like mushrooms. For some, the tax on childlessness is measured by a number with four zeros. And yet it's still early. Not in vain even CEO rides on the Volga.
Here Grigoriev was cunning. The general, although he was listed as the head of everything and everyone, had no real power, having long delegated the leadership (not of his own free will) to the “grey eminence”.
"Grey cardinal" in a gray car.
He forgot about the call. This is the property of any strong character. As Scarlet O Hara used to say, "I'll think about it tomorrow."
Factory workers (those who were lucky enough to buy a car) left their "horses" in the parking lot near the checkpoint. Only "upper" managers visited the territory of the enterprise. The General drove up to the gate quietly. He didn't honk his horn or lean out the window. If the gates were opened later than ten seconds later, both the head of security for negligent subordinates and the head of the transport department received a scolding - up to the “heap”. For ten seconds, the gate could not open physically. Therefore, both received every day. Grigoriev always gave a signal. Briefly pressed the horn. And never got angry. Even if the gates were opened late. He has not changed himself today.
Former VOKhROvets Semenych, a tall, bony uncle of pre-retirement age, stood at attention and joyfully greeted Grigoriev. He nodded at him and smiled.
- Why are you reaching out in front of him? - the partner was surprised - a young guy with "thieves" antics.
Semyonitch looked at him contemptuously and silently spat.

Grigoriev went into the reception room, nodded dryly to the secretary. The general must have been a desperate masochist. He kept a little pale witch as secretaries. As a child, someone hurt her badly. Since then, she has not smiled and looked at those around her with malicious black eyes. She looked very angrily at the "riff-raff" who was pushing in the waiting room waiting for the coveted signature, and at the heads of departments - also angrily, but not like that. She looked at Grigoriev with vicious fear. She felt that he could decide her fate in an instant.
Grigoriev could not stand the "witch", but he did not get into personnel issues. Moreover, Lida wrote very famously on a typewriter and kept business papers in exemplary order. Or maybe a blowjob under the table could be delayed. You won't see real talent right away. Until you collide.
The fact that the general director of the plant, Vyacheslav Adamovich Lifshits, uses his "secret" in this capacity, Grigoriev knew for sure. He spoke out once. Reveled in warm company. After a bottle of Lifshitz, I got tired of it. Told some piquancy. Adamych looked funny. The whole body is covered with black curly hair, and the head looks like a billiard ball. The legs are short and crooked, the body is long, the neck is barely visible. The suit concealed flaws, but only physical ones, and the rest did not. And Vyacheslav Adamovich had a great many of them. Having lost his father at an early age, he lived with his mother for ten years in a terrible rogue quarter, where people did not live, but survived living on porridge. The quarter was called "Proletarian". The men drank en masse, and half of the women drank too. The oldest on the block was sixty-two. The rest are smaller, and many have long since moved to the cemetery nearby. The boys stole from shops, streets and at the station. The most dexterous traveled to Moscow and stole there. Little Slava took over a lot. And gait thieves and jargon. I had enough impudence, and in place of conscience a member had long grown. He probably would have thundered into the colony after his friends, but there were other bloodlines. You can't fool the blood. And here's another distant relative father was found. The apartment was changed, the area too. Slavik graduated from eleven classes and, with grief, crawled into the institute in half. Other people now surrounded Slavik. He even sometimes did not understand them. So flowery they were expressed in his opinion. He himself did not read poetry, he confused Einstein with Eisenstein and was sure that "Peter the Great" and "War and Peace" were created by the same person. He was willing to get to know the students. And they are with him. He then had luxurious black hair and chic sideburns. And black olive eyes completed the success. It usually ended after the first date. He was defeated ten times, spat, called everyone a crowd of proshmandovki and went to seek his fortune in the workers' quarters of the regional center. There, in the dilapidated, stinking of slops and tobacco, factory "hostels" awaited his success. The girls were easier. They did not like poetry, they did not hear about Einstein, and they confused Tolstoy with Demyan Poor. In Lifshitz's assortment there were about three dozen of the most motherly anecdotes and about a dozen decent ones. The girls also loved to hear about scuffles, husk sunflower seeds and drink port wine with roach. Lifshitz triumphed. He fell into his element. The apotheosis was a trip to the skin. veins. dispensary.
By this time, the mother had new husband. The same relative. There was a family council. Uncle Sam decided the issue radically. Slavik was transferred to correspondence. Now he came to the session twice a year, and the rest of the time he worked at a shoe factory, the director of which was Uncle Sema. It was the same factory where the chief technologist, together with other comrades, introduced two leather cutting schemes at once. The difference was remarkable. To the Slavikovs too.
Two years later, he graduated from the institute and immediately rose to the position of deputy chief technologist. A year later he became chief engineer.
Many years later, fate threw Lifshitz to a factory in the city of Volzhsk. I must say, after two weeks of his directorship, he shocked many. Here even the workers did not speak such selective obscenities. And how he yelled at his subordinates in front of the entire plant. And poked everyone. The chief designer, gray-haired, who had long passed retirement age, was poked too. At the meeting, he poured mud on everyone indiscriminately. And the right, and the guilty, and everyone else. He threatened to fire him under the article, rewarding him with a wolf ticket, rolling his eyes, spitting and cursing. At first they were afraid of him, then they got used to it and calmed down. And now, in general, they listened with a half ear.
The factory "elite" gathered in Livshitz's office. At the T-table. He himself naturally sat behind a short stick. Behind the long one - the chief engineer Bokov and his deputy Nikiforov on the one hand, and on the other Chief Accountant Tamara Lvovna Ignatovich and chief economist Lyubov Solomonovna Adamova. The meeting proceeded at full speed according to the same pattern. Lifshits is red as a cancer. It looks like he just yelled enough. The ashamed Bokov nervously runs his pen over his notebook, Nikiforov lowered his head (the sword does not cut a guilty head), the women are redder than Lifshitz (heard a lot of strong expressions). And complete silence. Only the fan rustles in the corner of the office, and the general breathes heavily.
Quite recently, the four "celestials" (Lifshitz had not yet reached Volzhsk) had no idea of the existence of Grigoriev. He looked at them from behind an old, creaky drawing board with a cracked board.
He then finished general form"involute broach". The phone rang. Shura Smirnova - the copyist picked up the phone.
- Yura, you.
He picked up the phone without suspecting anything. Mom called.
- Yura, you have a summons. To Army.

Ten eyes stared at Grigoriev. Even Nikiforov raised his head. Grigoriev nodded dryly. Everyone at once. Approximately as politely as to the secretary Lida. In silence, he went to the door to the rest room and glanced askance at Livshits. He understood and quickly got up.
They ended up in a small cozy room, separated from the office by a double door and a small corridor. Two sofas, a couple of armchairs, a coffee table, a sideboard. In the corner there is a door leading to the toilet and shower room.
Grigoriev fell into a chair and stretched happily. Lifshitz perched warily on the corner of the sofa.
- What do you share in the morning? - Grigoriev asked as if he was not interested in the answer.
“We solve problems,” muttered Livshits gloomily.
He appeared at the factory three years ago. Prior to that, he worked as a director of a repair plant in a district town for a year. He grew up from the head of production. (A career at a shoe factory collapsed suddenly. The chief technologist was imprisoned, Uncle Sem was kicked out of the directors. I had to start all over again. Foreman, shop manager, production manager.) This position left a deep furrow in Lifshitz's heart. Therefore, he dealt the first blow to production department. And Grigoriev received the first public scolding. He called Deputy Minister Lev Iosifovich Ocheretner. The lion laughed into the phone for a long time, then apologized for his forgetfulness. Laughed again. Finally he promised to call Lifshitz immediately.
- What problems do you have? What are you missing?" Grigoriev threw irritably.
Livshits was silent. Grigoriev twiddled his fingers.
- There is metal and components, the staff is complete, the plan is real.
He bent three fingers and looked expectantly at Lifshitz.
“Yesterday, the shipment was disrupted on the second shift,” he said, grimacing sourly.
- Reason?
- Hostess. Mother by her leg. Six hundred and seventy products were rejected right on the package. Sixty-seven thousand rubles for the goods. Can you imagine what a mess we're in? The main thing, Erokhin... Well, the state inspector in the assembly, accepted everything and put the seal. So no, Malevich pinned down, Son of a bitch, right from the packaging I took selectively ten copies and double-checked on the test. Out of ten - three marriages. The entire batch was rejected and returned to the workshop.
Lifshits was crucifying, Grigoriev was gloomy.
“You could at least offer coffee,” he grumbled unkindly.
- Now, just a minute.
Lifshitz pressed the selector button, which was hung on the wall by the sofa.
- Linda, two coffees. Fast.
And he stared hopefully at Grigoriev. He was silent.
Linda appeared unexpectedly soon. I knew for whom the second cup. She placed the tray on the table and silently left. Grigoriev took a sip of the burning aroma, grunted with satisfaction, and slowly drank half a cup. I didn't touch the salami sandwiches. He put the cup down on the table, leaned back in his chair, and finally looked at his interlocutor. He knew that Lifshitz did not tolerate silence, and finished him off.
- Vyacheslav Adamovich, - he began, singling out the word ADAMOVICH as the key one, - I thought that the issue of state acceptance was finally resolved. There are fifteen state receivers at the plant. All members of the Party. They are registered with the party organization of the plant. By the way, why isn't Ruzman at the meeting?
Party organizer Ruzman left for Tver the day before for a party conference. Lifshits told Grigoriev about this.
“To be honest, nothing depends on him now,” he added.
- Yes, how does it not depend? - Grigoriev was indignant, - And why the hell do we need him then? And why do we have a party bureau? Call these freaks gospriemshchikov one by one and teach. Either they work as expected, or a ticket to the table. In short, stop conferring and Norman here.
Norman Nikolai Efimovich led the factory state acceptance committee from its very foundation. Since the end of eighty-six.
Grigoriev got up, showing with all his appearance that the conversation was over and it was time to get down to business. But Lifshitz stopped him.
- Wait, Yuri Vladimirovich.
He turned around in annoyance.
- What else?
- No Norman. Here's the rub. Kolya left for Adler for a whole month. Malevich stayed behind him. Official deputy. Can not argue.
- But he is also a member of the Party.
- What are you, Yuri Vladimirovich. What member? He is also a former city committee. Forgot? He's got OH-GO-GO connections there.
- Are you afraid of anything?
- Absolutely.
Grigoriev pondered for a few seconds. He took a cup from the table and finished his coffee. Lifshitz looked haunted.
- What are you looking at? - Grigoriev chuckled, - Go in charge. Let's solve the problem with Malevich. Let's draw a black square for him. I take over. This is strictly confidential. Understood?
Lifshits nodded vigorously.
I will leave in an hour and will not return until the end of the day. Can you do one?
Grigoriev looked at Lifshitz with a grin.
- Of course, Yuri Vladimirovich, - he answered.
- Well, hold on.
Grigoriev extended his hand. Lifshitz shrugged it respectfully.
- Too bad there's no other way out. In order not to go through your office, - said Grigoriev, - You think about how to do it.
Eight hunted eyes met and saw off. In the waiting room, Lida stared with vicious fear.
- Fine coffee, Lida, - threw Grigoriev on the move.
The anger vanished from his eyes for a moment.
- I try, - blushing embarrassedly, she answered after him.

Grigoriev went into his apartments. The reception area is noticeably smaller than that of the general. But at the table is not a vicious fanged rat, but a charming creature of twenty-six years old. Tall, feet away from the ears. Even now on the podium. Eyes, mouth, nose. I managed to be married, got burned, but ...
Grigoriev greeted him gallantly and went into the office. The office did not inspire in size and was simply furnished. Grigoriev, in principle, did not like pretentiousness and monumentality in decoration. In recent years, many places have had to visit on production matters. Both in the Baltics and southern republics. The Balts value business and time. No wonder they live close to Europe. And their offices are the same. Strict, functional. Not a single extra detail. But in the South it's different. Not offices, but palace halls. The walls are paneled in marble, and chandeliers hang from the ceilings. There are five or six telephones on the table. One worker, and the rest for the entourage. Solid "show-off" in a simple way.
Grigoriev did not respect "show-offs" and appreciated the work. T-table with chairs along it. Row of chairs against the wall. There are three phones on the table. City, internal factory and direct with the general.
The rest room is another matter. Here severity is counter-indicative. And if in size it did not surpass Lifshitz's room, it definitely surpassed it in comfort and functionality. Because it consisted of two parts. The first is essentially the same as that of the general. Sofas, table, armchairs, sideboard. But there were four doors in the room. One to the office, the second to the stairwell, the third to the toilet and shower room, and the fourth to the bedroom. A small cozy room with a tiny window. From the situation - a sofa bed, always unfolded, a small cabinet-table and an armchair.
Grigoriev went into the room and called his secretary Maya through the selector.
"Coffee?" she asked.
- No need.
They made love for half an hour. By work.

Maya busily dressed in clothes, and she herself looked with slight irony.
- Sleep, I'll decide everything - she touched his shoulder.
- I dont want to sleep.
- Oh, is it?
- Where did you get it?
- The jet is weak, - she laughingly left the room.
He did not hastily dress and almost dressed. Maya suddenly walked in. He knew from her eyes that she wanted to discuss something. How not on time. Mike felt his mood.
- Are you in a hurry? I won't take much time.
“Take it,” he said meekly.
She sat down on the sofa, Grigoriev sat next to her. She looked hesitantly, as if searching for her words. He patiently waited.
- At me the variant pecks, - has pronounced, at last, she, - Has met one person. Serious, doesn't drink, and has a solid job.
- Well, what do you think? Get married,” he said lightly and cheerfully.
He was afraid that Mike would begin to delve into the soul and their relationship.
She was silent again and bit her lower lip lightly. She always did that before confessing to something.
- I don't want to change him. Well, after I get married…. And I don't want to quit.
- I won't let you go.
- But I can't do that. You are…
She didn't agree.
- Shall I carry you here?
Maya nodded, closing her eyes.
- I won't. I give you my word.
“If you got married, you wouldn’t cheat on your wife either, right?” she chirped.
- Truth.
- Get married. Please. Anyone will do for you.
- I was already married.
- So that's when it was.
They were silent.
- At the plant, of course, you don't have a couple, - Mike said, - But you go everywhere. Both in the south and abroad.
They were silent again.
- Have you ever loved? - She asked, - For real?
What are you suddenly interested in?
- I don't know anything about you. I've been with you so many times and I don't know anything. Well, it can't be that you don't love someone. Or are you unable?
He might not have answered. He did not like to be frank. Especially with a secretary. And even more so with a mistress. But she asked something like this...
- Probably capable ... There was one girl .... For a long time…. Maybe it was love.
- And what happened to her?
- Nothing. Dispersed like ships at sea... It always happens that way. Men never marry their first love.
- Come on, - Mike pursed her lips, - You put forward some kind of bad theory.
Why is she bad? The first love remains in the heart. And if you cook borscht together with her and wash diapers, then what will remain in your heart?
- You are a 100% egoist, - Mike was feigned indignant, - Did that girl love you?
Grigoriev shrugged.
- No, i guess.
- That's why you dance. And then the theory spread. By the way, I wouldn't be able to fall in love with you.
- You don't have feelings for me?
- There are some more.
Thoughtful eyes, tugging at a strand of hair, absently looking past Grigoriev at the back of the sofa. So, now something will give out.
“I idolized,” she said, as if listening to herself.
- Worship? - now she was looking at him, but as if seeing for the first time.
She carried on a dialogue with herself, Grigoriev held his palm in front of her eyes.
- Don't interfere. I want to understand my attitude towards you. Don't be fooled, you are not my god.
- Well, you know ... I don't apply for such a position. And your feelings too.
- And I'm alive, Yurochka. And I have them.
He wanted to say something, but she covered his mouth with her hand.
- Wait a minute. Shut up a little... I bow to you….Probably, like a she-wolf feels a strong male and goes to him… I give myself to you and bastard from the fact that you take me…. But this is not love .... Do you understand? I often think about us... I'm kind of behind a stone wall. I know that you will tear anyone for me .... And you can't protect me from yourself.
She spoke for a long time, pausing between phrases, while she herself looked past. It was like something exciting was happening behind his back. Finished the last phrase, and as if recollecting herself, finally looked into his eyes.
I'm being smart, right?
He nodded.
- Too smart. But I got the point. I am a wolf and you are a wolf.
Maya smiled sheepishly.
- Say it too. This is me, figuratively. What kind of wolf am I? But you really are a wolf. Lonely-lonely And I'm a doe or a roe deer. And you fuck me ... And you will spit out the bones.
- You probably had an A in zoology?
She laughed softly and snuggled up to him.
- Yurochka, don't be offended. Okay? I feel as I speak.
- You have a good opinion of me, however, - he kissed her on the cheek.
Have you noticed that you are very afraid? Everything. Both bosses and workers.
- You're exaggerating.
- They say that fifteen years ago the plant was headed by Kamenev. It is said that he was feared and greatly respected. He knew all the factory workers by sight. Four thousand people. Every morning he walked through the workshops, shook hands with each worker and called by name and patronymic. He asked - what and how. For this, his workers loved him very much. And with the heads of workshops and with his deputies he was strict, but objective. He never raised his voice, never cursed, and never found fault with trifles. But on the other hand, if it was for something, he did not give a descent. And the bosses respected him for it .... And when are you in the shops last time was? Lifshits even runs in the morning. Only a little sense. Yelling like a fit. He is neither respected nor feared. And you are afraid.
“They are afraid, so they respect them,” Grigoriev said smugly.
- No, Yura. They are afraid because they are afraid. At the factory, everyone knows that scary people are behind you.
He stopped her.
- Maya, what kind of people? What are you talking about? Wake up. It's eighty-ninth outside, and you tell me about Kamenev. The era is changing, Maya. And yes, it's all a lie. Even if there are a thousand workers on shift. Half a minute each. Five hundred minutes. Eight plus hours. Whole shift. Lies, myth. Never repeat, think first.
- My God. Yes, let him at least only greet the foremen. And you're not with anyone. And the people behind you are really scary. And you yourself went through this, which, probably, can also do a lot of terrible things. And people see it. She herself heard Adamova say about you: “He says one thing, thinks another, and does a third. And if necessary, it will go over the corpses.
- So she said? - Grigoriev was amazed.
- Yes. Word by word.
- Do you think the same?
She looked at him defenselessly, like a child.
Does she really think that of me? It can't be, flashed through head, people they simply do not know me, and judge by some fragments, not seeing the whole. And she is there, she knows everything about me. And my thoughts and feelings...
She looked away and now carefully studied the corner. She said it like she was about to throw herself under a train.
- I don't think so. I know it.

The gray highway rushed towards me in a fast ribbon. The devil swayed on the windshield. Maikino's face is in front of her eyes, and in her ears her words are repeated and repeated. last words. I know, I know, I know...
He did not argue and prove otherwise. He got up and left without saying goodbye. As if it was not his office, but hers.
The buildings of the "Chemical Institute" stretched past. The "not real Kalinin" began. This is how Grigoriev called the section of the Moscow highway to himself from the time of his studies at the institute. Aroma hit my nose rotten eggs. The "signature" smell of hydrogen sulfide greeted those arriving from the capital. The smell has subsided. The outlines of the buildings of Vagzhanov Street loomed ahead. The car drove to Gagarin Square. The "real Kalinin" began.
There was something attractive about this city. For Grigoriev. His friends did not live in it, there were no familiar women. Although, in accordance with his status, he knew many here. And more than once I had to get a thrashing in the Regional Committee. And Oblprof? But they rather gave birth to negativity and spoiled the urban aura. So why did the soul tremble every time? May be….??? He suddenly realized that he had to check immediately. Right now. Looked at the clock. Twenty to two. Nothing, Sasha will wait.

Passed the center, nothing scratched. And he knew he wouldn't feel a thing. Happened often. The last time was a month ago. Is it that that turn to the "new" bridge to the side River Station. He looked to the right. Toli saw, Toli presented a monument to the restless Athanasius and himself in the distance at the parapet of the bridge. And a girl with golden hair from the sun.
On the left is the Theater. Not that. Never crossed the threshold. In those years, the Taganka thundered. Vysotsky.
Grigoriev remembered. There, Vysotsky spoke at the River Station in the Central Building of the Polytech. At seventy-six. It was Sunday. The very beginning of June. Looks like number six. Two concerts. At twelve and two. They took tickets for twelve. He took. Himself and her.
Short, scrawny in a black turtleneck and jeans. Or in jeans and a black shirt?... What's the difference. Such energy from the first word. And a nerve.
Where I am? Already "Proletarian"? There is an overpass, and that cafe was called "Penguin". Left or straight? Directly. I turned onto Zhdanova Street. Something stuck in my soul. Why? Over there on the right, ten years ago, there was a computer center. In the second year, they studied such a subject called "informatics". Compiled the simplest programs in Fortran or Algol in this very building. Conveniently. You don't have to go far. Hostels are just opposite.
He stopped the car in the yard between two identical five-story brick buildings. That's dormitory number four. "Fourth", in a word. And this is the "second". He glanced at the nondescript gray wall, fixed his gaze on one of the windows on the second floor. This is where he used to live. A long time ago. A hundred years ago. He peered out the window, as if hoping to see himself. Or jump through time, look out the window and see an outlandish dark gray car with alien outlines. And meet the eyes of a tired man, a little reminiscent of himself.
Grigoriev drove away strange thoughts. No, it's not here. Quiet and empty in the soul. There, at the turn, something hit. What?
Without the slightest regret, he left the forgotten courtyard. I went to Zhdanov and added gas. I slowed down at the exit to Lenina Prospekt, letting cars through. It hit. Right in front of him rose the Sputnik. Cinema from youth. HERE IT IS. End of April. Thirty, it seems. Friday. In "Sputnik" there was a film "Autumn". A strange film by a strange Smirnov. That's where it all started at the entrance to the cinema. No, it started earlier, much earlier. Autumn. The very first days. The distant village of Kaposhino….
The klaxon bellowed behind him. Grigoriev came to his senses and turned onto the avenue. The 412th Moskvich took off next. Overtook the Lada. The driver looked angrily at Grigoriev and tapped his temple with his finger. Grigoriev did not notice anything.
- Not that, - he thought, - Maybe here?
Turned left and past the Chemical-technological building of "Polytech" went to Akademicheskaya directly to the Educational building. God bless the memory. When did classes begin? In the 76th or 77th? He worked here during his freshman year. One day. Cleaned up industrial waste together with classmates.
And here is a blank. So everything is very bad. And for ten years nothing has been erased.
There is one street behind the building. Unsightly, built up with two-story wooden barracks. It's within reach of her. You just need to go around the institute building over there.
The heart was picking up speed. And impatient nervousness was transmitted to the machine. She jerked off, turned sharply, squeaking tires.
Marshal Street was left behind. Grigoriev felt himself in a marvelous forest, in which trees had not grown in ten years, and the same birds were flooding on the branches. It was like a time machine had thrown him into the past. A trolleybus with the same number ran towards them. As then. From the stop in front departed another passing. Now turn left and reach the final.
T-junction. There, on the right, "Gastronom" ... Here it shines with glass sides. Grigoriev stopped the car. Damned memory. Everything had to hide and disappear under the mass of years.
That yard over there. Narrow asphalt road.
- I won't go for it. I'll turn the car around. I have to visit Zaitsev. I promised.
Zaitsev. Also Zaitsev. There he is on the path .... And next to a girl with golden hair from the sun.
Grigoriev began to turn around, but an incredible force sent the car along the path deep into the yard. He stared doomedly ahead. Turned again and parked in a small "pocket". And he looked out the windshield, afraid to turn his head. Couldn't resist and turned around. I looked up and saw windows.
The car was gone, he was standing on the sidewalk. Went to the door. It swung open with a creak, and Grigoriev stepped into the semi-darkness of the entrance. He climbed the concrete steps. His heart was pounding, drowning out his footsteps. The second floor, the third ... The steps underfoot are viscous, like clay. It's getting harder to go.
Here is the door. The same one. And a call button above it. The same. He touched the plastic pipette.
And woke up. Started the engine, reversed.
It's half past three on the clock.

1974
He met Zaitsev on the first of September 1974. He came by himself. Just finished the first couple. Grigoriev didn't know anyone yet, he just looked around. Even at school, he was never friends with everyone at once. Only with a few, in his opinion, the most worthy. And with the rest, he simply maintained an even relationship. Now, he was in no hurry. He stepped aside and unobtrusively watched his classmates. I envied the guys from Rzhev a little. Five from the same city. They stand apart and excitedly discuss something. Those three over there, it seems, are from Bezhetsk, and the boy from Kashin was not lucky. He is not a countryman, but a countrywoman. Yes, such that without tears you will not look. But she is dressed in a "firm". For such a denim suit, speculators ask for three hundred rubles. Yes, and import tankettes. Rubles for thirty will be pulled. Or maybe fifty. On the finger is a ring for one hundred and fifty, in the ears are earrings. Is it with a diamond? And the figure of the girl is nothing. The muzzle would still be changed ... And the guys are dressed simply. Pants made of cheap material. And their jackets match. Although no. That tall one over there is “packed” well. A suit like Czechoslovakian and on the legs "Salomandra". Kalinin boy. Surname Gomberg. And this already says a lot. And next to him is Goldin. Tall reddish with glasses. In a Levi's denim suit. His father, it seems, works in the City Committee. Or Obkom. And Gomberg also manages something.
Grigoriev looked at the girl again.
No luck with girls. One for the whole group. In the second group there are more than half, and in the third there are ten. On what basis did they divide? Unclear.
The girl, meanwhile, noticed that she was being closely examined, raised her chin contemptuously and turned away.
Fucking bitch. In front, only the muzzle summed up. But the butt is like a boy's. Such cool jeans hanging on such an ass. Better not turn away.
That one is nimble and agile with curly hair. Eyes slightly protruding. The suit looks simple, but obviously not cheap. And the boy is difficult. And the last name is not easy. Zaraisky.
And that wakhlak over there is clearly a peasant in the one hundred and tenth generation. Also stupid as well. He said only two phrases, and there are no doubts. Pants are old, but that's not so bad. Still not ironed. The knees are extended. And this is not because the parents do not have extra money. I just got used to wearing a quilted jacket in my village. And in the pigsty and in the club.
And what the fuck in glasses needs?
A tall, flabby fellow with shoulder-length blond hair, in wide light trousers, a blue shirt and a gray jacket, approached Grigoriev. He looked at him blankly. Looks like a guy from Kimry. And the name is Zaitsev.
- Let's get acquainted, - said Zaitsev and held out his hand, - Sasha.
Grigoriev shook his soft doughy hand and introduced himself in return.
- Are you from Volzhsk? And I'm from Kimry. Count countrymen. Let's stick together, shall we?
That's how it all started.

1989
Zaitsev lived near Tereshkova Square in a five-story building. The last time Grigoriev visited him was three years ago. The floor of the institute is back.
Grigoriev often measured the periods of life by time periods determined by certain events. From this, time turned from an abstract substance into a convex tangible structure. A period of ten years was compared with school. So he said to himself: - "a whole school back." He graduated from the Polytech a whole school ago. A whole school ago, I last saw Rita. Rita Vorobyov, Rita Zaitsev… What else?
The same courtyard with chipped asphalt. Bench at the entrance. Or maybe he confuses and remembers a completely different five-story building. The same sidewalk and bench. And a lilac bush at the entrance. Or not? My God. Life is almost over. Already thirty-two. Thirty-two... It's scary to think. Rita then said: “I want us all to meet in fifteen years. We won't be old yet, will we?" Fifteen years. A whole institute and a whole school together. An entire era. Unreal length. And now it's been ten.
A quarter to three. Time is relentless.
He went up to the third floor and called apartment number forty-nine. The door swung open immediately. On the threshold of Sashkin's wife Valya with a shopping bag in her hands.
- Hello, - Grigoriev said as if he had parted with Valya yesterday.
- Hi. Come on, I'll run to the store.
- I was late for almost an hour, and she was in the store. So Sasha asked to be left alone, - guessed Grigoriev.
The door slammed shut behind her, and Zaitsev appeared at the door of the room. Three years ago, Sasha looked like a big, well-fed pig. Pink smooth physiognomy with placid slightly sleepy eyes. From that Sashka remained protruding ears and eyes. And drowsiness turned out to be fatigue with a crazy brilliance. Pale yellowish skin stretched over her skull, her hair hung in uneven tufts over her forehead, her Adam's apple, which had never been seen before, stuck out like a whaling harpoon. The tracksuit hung in a sack over his bent body.
Sasha caught a glance. Thin colorless cracked lips twisted.
“Come in,” he said in that unrecognizable voice. He himself went into the room and invited Grigoriev with a gesture.
The smell of medicines, iodine and something else intangible, settling in places where someone's soul is fading, hit my nose. They sat down on the sofa, and Grigoriev, purely intuitively, unwittingly, sat down in the distance. I immediately realized what a mistake I had made, and moved closer, but it was too late. Sasha understood everything and smiled crookedly again.
"Don't be afraid, I'm not contagious," he said.
- Yes, what are you, Sanya, I just ...
Sasha stopped. And then he told about the horror that covered him, and about the terrible short path along which he had to go. Grigoriev listened to himself. I couldn't get my feelings across. What makes the soul tremble? From sympathy for Sasha? Or maybe from the fact that you have already tried on the “shirt” for yourself? And saw himself with a yellow skull and in a weak body? And I felt horrified.
Valya returned and invited to the table.
They poured seventy grams of vodka. They drank without clinking glasses. This Zaitsev so decided. He said: “Let’s not clink glasses… Not for me… I’m still alive…. For our boys who never returned from there.”
Grigoriev chewed on the sausage, but Zaitsev did not eat. He stared blankly at the corner of the room. Suddenly he said: “I wonder if I will meet them there or not?”
Grigoriev thought about his own thoughts and didn't catch on right away, but Valya abruptly got up and left the room.
- It is unlikely that I will see, - Sasha continued, - They must have gone to heaven, but I have no way to go there.
He was already green and blue, but now he looked like a dead man, and Grigoriev immediately recalled a scene from a horror movie that he had recently watched on the “video camera”. It even seemed that it smelled of decay.
He mentally crossed himself, filled the glass and drank in one gulp. I wanted to say something banal about faith and hope, but looked at Zaitsev and said nothing.
One hundred and fifty grams worked on an empty stomach, but he still diligently did not look at Zaitsev.
- Soon you will come here again, - he said, - At the funeral. Will you come?
Grigoriev wanted to object that you should not bury yourself ahead of time, but again looked at Zaitsev and silently nodded.
- I have one thing for you, - said Sasha, - No, - he corrected himself, - Even, it’s not a matter, but this is nonsense ...
He got up, walked over to the sideboard, and pulled a plump homemade envelope from a drawer. He sat down and squinted at the edge of the table.
- Is it clean here? - he tilted his head close, close to the tablecloth.
Grigoriev, just in case, held out his hand.
- Clean.
Zaitsev began laying out the contents of the package on the tablecloth. Letters, many letters. Finally fished out a stack of photographs.
- I will destroy the letters, - he said, - Let the photographs remain.
He slowly rearranged the photographs, soundlessly moving his lips. He peered into each, as if trying to remember forever. And tenderness lit up in the inflamed eyes. The photographs lay down on the table in two piles face down. Sashka laid one next to the letters, and the other closer to Grigoriev. He took the top one and turned it over. My God, Rita. He took the whole stack. That former Yurka Grigoriev would have seized, but this one took it calmly and, as it were, indifferently.
Rita, Rita, Rita… Lots and lots of Rita.
Sashka suddenly froze with a photograph in his hands and stared at Grigoriev.
- Have you forgotten everything? - he asked lostly, - And you don't need photos.
He sighed and bit his lip and seemed to sob.
- It's a pity. I'll die, Valentina will throw them into the garbage chute. Such a girl among the leftovers... We'll have to burn... It's a pity.
And in the inflamed eyes flashed wet crystals.
- It's not the case, but this is nonsense, - Grigoriev remembered, - No, not nonsense. He invited me here just to take the photos. Exactly me. I was sure that these photos still mean something to me.
- I'll take it, - said Grigoriev, - No need to burn anything.
Pause. Silence. Grigoriev was silent, because he said everything he wanted to. And Zaitsev ... Crystals swelled in his eyes, and Grigoriev abruptly got up from the table, went up to him and took him by the shoulders. Zaitsev wept soundlessly. He could cry now, because Grigoriev was standing behind him. His shoulders trembled a little, this trembling was transmitted to Grigoriev.
“Remember, then I got a military ID, and her photograph accidentally fell out?” Zaitsev asked quietly.
He never said the word "Afghanistan" aloud, as if it had become "taboo" for him. Then, in the headquarters trailer, a small three-by-four photograph fell out of the green ticket of reserve officer Alexander Petrovich Zaitsev. He did not notice. The white rectangle, somersaulting in the air, glided right under Grigoriev's feet. He raised and saw Rita. He made an effort and looked at his friend. And met with a stare.
- Then you pretended that you were indifferent and did not ask me about anything. I read everything in your eyes. And you kept silent because you understood that I would understand everything from your voice.
“Do you want to talk about her?” Grigoriev guessed.
“I wanted to,” he answered hesitantly, “No, I won’t. Our memories are too different.
He hesitated.
- I was hoping to see ... I kept thinking ... She comes to her parents very often. I thought I'd call one day and maybe we'll meet. Let's just talk. And you see how it turned out. I'm glad she won't see me like this. I keep thinking. Does she remember me at least sometimes? .... And you?
- You see, - said Grigoriev, - Unlike you, I was not so close to her. I remember, of course. That's how I remember you. And our guys. And in ten years, a lot of things have happened yet, which we have to remember. And if you want to cry, I immediately warn you, I don’t wear vests.
Sasha frowned and hurriedly sorted out the pictures. He stuffed a smaller pile into a postal envelope and handed it to Grigoriev. I was preparing to put a larger pile together with the letters.
- And what about those? - asked Grigoriev unceremoniously.
- Our joint.
- Can I have a look?
- Yes please. For now, I'll just put a few aside.
He shuffled the photographs again. Suddenly changed his mind.
- See everything. What's the difference now.
Grigoriev took the photographs, feeling his heart breaking against his ribs.
Rita in a white dress with a veil. Zaitsev looks like a mannequin from a men's clothing store. Eyes do not believe their luck. Photos are a standard set from the registry office. They are witnesses, they are without witnesses, signing in turn in the registration log, changing rings, putting them on each other's fingers, kissing, drinking champagne.
And this is probably Honeymoon. Endless sea. Sasha with a loose torso and a slender mermaid in a dark bathing suit. Kiss again against the backdrop of the Swallow's Nest.
“Give me your word that you won’t throw these away either,” Sasha asked.
- Do you want to give them to me? - Grigoriev was amazed.
- Not now. I'll seal it before the end. If you come to the funeral, Valentina will give it to you.
- I promise, - said Grigoriev.

They said goodbye at the door.
- Well, goodbye, Yur, - Sasha said, - Forever. Even if there is something after death, we will end up in different places.
- We've been honest with you. Together we will stay.
Sasha looked bright.
- I'm not talking about Afghanistan. My sins are worse.

Grigoriev returned to Volzhsk. I went to a construction site. The workers were finishing up. Construction began six months ago, or rather a year. Because at first they poured the foundation, laid the slabs and “frozen” for six months so that the foundation settled. Every day Grigoriev came here with pleasure, noting the changes that had taken place during the day. Walls grew, harmony was formed from a set of ridiculous elements. Stairs, railings, arches of openings ... As if they were born by him. He was happy to select the color and shape, get the materials... And he was happy like a child, having managed to get a chic Finnish tile for the bathroom. And the damn donkey? How much time he killed to get the necessary logs for the bath.
He wandered among the seething enthusiasm and did not feel joy. For the first time.
A month or two will pass. He will be given the keys to the house. He will walk along the first floor, go up to the second ... He will pull back all the curtains and look through all the windows. He will lie down on every sofa and sit in armchairs. He will go to the huge kitchen and cook his own food. And sit in a corner. Turn on the video recorder and watch a movie. Probably interesting. And he won't understand anything. Or maybe go to the sauna. One. Or to the bath. And he will whip himself with a broom .... You can invite Mike or Sveta .... You can Nina, Valya, Tanya ... They will come ... They will fly in and rush. They will be there, and there will be emptiness.
It was the first time this had happened to him. He glanced around the house. All from the foundation to the ridge. And he thought sadly: “Why? Why and to whom?
He returned to his apartment. Depressed and crushed. Sat down in a chair. Outside, the day was burning. Grigoriev looked at the screen of the unplugged TV. Today has turned him around. First, her entrance, familiar and forgotten windows. Then Zaitsev... How strange and cruel. He still lives and suffers. Not from illness, but from what I could not save. Maybe happy? If he had kept it, it would not be Valya, but she would now see him like that.
Something solid in my breast pocket. He forgot about the photographs.

1975 year. September. Yura Grigoriev walked along the corridor of the institute building. The door of the VLKSM Committee suddenly swung open right in front of their noses. A tall, slender girl fluttered out of the office, gave her an instant cold look, and quickly disappeared behind a bend in the corridor, leaving Yura with a subtle scent of expensive perfume.
“These people don’t go here,” the phrase floated out of nowhere. Somewhere he heard something similar.
A doe that accidentally got into a cowshed. Fire bird in the chicken coop.
He rushed after him, turning the corner. Her trail is gone. He darted down the next corridor, peering into the unlocked classrooms. The girl has disappeared. As if dreamed of an inflamed consciousness. But no. She was. WAS. Light brown hair tied in a bun at the back of her head. Bold beautiful haughty face. Slender legs in stilettos. Nothing more was remembered. Didn't get to see it. But there was a feeling of something fabulous inaccessibly beautiful.
He suddenly noticed that people were hurrying towards him, and a girl in a blue sweater was looking in surprise, and a guy following him was suspiciously looking askance. Yura shook his head, driving away the vision, focused his eyes and returned to reality. Just in time. Five minutes later, his group began a math seminar.
Chizhova Irina Vasilievna, a stout, busty lady with an unhealthy puffy face, was sorting out integrals at the blackboard with chalk in her hands. Yura didn't listen. A stranger loomed before my eyes. Zaitsev pushed to the side.
- What are you doing? - Yura asked absently.
He leaned over and whispered in his ear:
- What's happened?
“I saw such a queen at recess,” Yura hissed in response.
- Is it in a dream?
- There are no such beautiful dreams.
Sasha moved away and studied his friend for half a minute. Then he moved up again, so much so that his shoulders grew together.
- You really, like a sack banged, - he hissed, - I don't know what you saw there ... It's all garbage. Here in the second, the queen really appeared. Cool girl. All of myself. Playboy is on vacation.
“You’ll see for yourself at the lecture,” he added, noticing the skeptical look of his friend.
He waved his hand dismissively. The gesture meant - do not talk nonsense.
- You're a fool, - Sasha hissed, - By the way, her dad is a professor at the "machines".
- Who?
- Sparrows.
- No, for the one I saw, such a surname does not fit. Maybe she is Volkonskaya ... Or Trubetskaya.
- Yeah, Princess Tarakanova.
- You idiot, you just didn't see her. Ofigel would.
- I already went crazy from Vorobyova.
Yura began to get annoyed. The dunce Zaitsev got attached with his Vorobyeva. How can you compare some Sparrow with the Sirin bird?
There are several birds of paradise in Slavic mythologies. Prophetic Gamayun, Phoenix reborn from the ashes, two most beautiful half-woman half-birds Alkonost and Sirin ... Only the last of them is a fiend dark forces. Her voice is true bliss, doomed to misfortune, suffering and death, but there was no strength not to listen to it.
Grigoriev was not strong in mythologies and named the stranger by the name Sirin simply on a whim. Chose the most elegant of all. Or maybe hellish creatures awaken the imagination and pull towards them?
On the other hand… Maybe Zaitsev is not such a dunce?
- What does your Vorobyova look like? - Grigoriev asked, trying not to betray his excitement.
Sasha thought for a second, closed his eyes and broke into a blissful smile.
- Tall ... Figure, like a goddess ... Chest, ass .... Awesome…. Blue eyes.
Yura felt his heart skip a beat.
- And the hair? - He asked, - What color?
- Gorgeous. Light…. But not blonde.
The heart was picking up speed.
- And what hairstyle?
Sasha made an indefinite movement around his head.
- Like this…. And in a fart.
- I'm not bothering you Zaitsev? - the sharp voice of the teacher interrupted the magical conversation.
- No, what are you, Irina Vasilievna, - Zaitsev himself was stunned by his memories and answered without thinking.
There was laughter in the office. Chizhova turned her head and the laughter stopped. But the work environment collapsed. Chairs moved and whispers rustled softly. Chizhova grunted in annoyance and stared at the culprits.
“I don’t bother you, Grigoriev, either?” she asked in an icy voice.
- I was generally silent.
- I noticed…. To the blackboard.
"Who?" they asked in unison.
- Both.
With sadistic anger, Chizhova erased the chains of formulas from the board and with a short sharp movement, so that fragments of chalk splashed from under her fingers, she drew a vertical thick line, dividing the board in half. In each half, I wrote an equation.
- Whoever decides earlier, I will forgive him.
- And later?
- Unsuccessful.

The friends finished at the same time. They tried especially hard. The mathematician smiled with satisfaction. The equations were not easy.
They didn't say a word until the end of the seminar. Yura was looking forward to the call. Next activity there was a lecture on sopromat. It appears that very soon he will see the fairy fairy again.

They entered the auditorium. Zaitsev is in front in a dark, almost black suit and a purple shirt with an open collar. Next is Grigoriev. In a dark gray suit, a dark blue shirt and a matching black tie with a wide double knot. Yura deliberately lagged behind in order to see a new girl among his classmates because of his friend's high shoulder. She was sitting in the very center of the audience on the fifth row next to the headman of the second group, Valery Dronov.
Friends went to the ninth row and took their seats since last year.
- Have you seen the queen? - Sasha pointed to the girl.
She sat right in front of them. Only four rows separated them. Yura admired the high neck with a gentle hollow, the ears with diamond earrings ... Sashka shamelessly intervened in the experience.
- So it was you who saw her? - he finally understood, - Fuse already? In vain. She is spinning with Drone.
- How is it? - Yura was taken aback, - Just appeared and is already spinning?
She didn't fall from the sky. Studied chemistry. We do not intersect with chemists, so we have not seen it. Although, to be honest, I noticed her a couple of times at the institute .... I thought it was some kind of artist.
- Indeed, why do such a thing in the "Polytech"? In VGIK. This is what I understand. Or at MGIMO ... To the extreme - InYaz, - Yura was sincerely perplexed.
- You are naive. If her dad had been a professor at MGIMO, she would have studied at MGIMO. But he has not matured "manenko".
- Well, yes, I'm dumb about something. Moreover, it is difficult to be beautiful and smart at the same time .... Listen, and Dron, so he crossed paths with her?
- They studied together. In one class.
- Do you know everything in the world?
Well, you probably haven't heard about it. No need to come to class tick to tick.
- And what is her name? - Yura started up and mentally shrank, afraid to hear something dissonant in response, inspired by Turgenev's novels.
- Rita ... Rita Vorobyeva.
Yura breathed a sigh of relief. This name, associated with early romantic experiences, appealed to him.
“Notice,” Sashka continued, “Vorobiev, not Trubetskaya.
- And not Volkonskaya, unfortunately.
- But dad is a professor, - Sasha said with envy, - And this is a hundred times more important.
- What's wrong with dad? And the surname also has nothing to do with it, - Yura retorted angrily.
- Don't tell me. If she had been a peasant woman, it would not have been the same, ”Sashka objected,“ I give a tooth, you wouldn’t even look askance at her.
- What are you talking about? - Yura was indignant, - I had no idea who her father was. I just saw and freaked out.
- So she is like that, because her dad is like that. Lifestyle ... Heredity. Breed. Do you see? If I were a peasant, I would walk like this.
Sashka, without getting up, depicted something similar to a gibbon waddling from side to side. Laughter swept through the hall.
- I'm from the village. Why do you think I'm walking like this? - Valya Gerasimova screamed from the next row.
It dawned on the guys that their neighbors were attentively listening to their dispute.
- Where are you from? - Valya continued to yell, - Citizen of hell.
Someone helpfully suggested Kimra's word.
- I was in Kimry. Village village. Worse than ours. Sit two freaks and wash the bones ..
- What am I? - Yura was amazed, - I didn’t scold the villagers ...
Everyone turned to Gerasimova's heart-rending cry. And Vorobiev too.
- I adore the countryside, - Yura continued, - It's good there in the summer. There are even such poems ... But this one bad person does not understand…
The newcomer's eyes sparkled.
“Yes, you’re all lying,” Valya yelled.
At that moment, the door swung open, and the "competitor" entered.
“Nothing, we’ll figure it out in a week,” Gerasimova finally hissed.

The week went by quickly. The course in full force left for agricultural work. The third group drove off to Vesyegonsk, and the first and second to the Kalyazinsky district in the village of Kaposhino.
That day, Yura got up before dawn, had a quick breakfast and ran to the bus station. Jeans, sneakers, a gray shirt and a khaki windbreaker. Behind shoulders a bulky backpack. Yesterday, at the family council, they decided for a long time what should be taken with them for a whole three weeks of absence.
Sweater, rubber boots, two pairs of warm socks and five pairs of plain ones. A couple of T-shirts, three shirts, a dozen shorts. And also an electric razor, a pack of sugar, a tin mug, a fork with a spoon, a folding knife ... They put it in a backpack ... Suddenly, my grandmother remembered a tracksuit, and my mother about tea leaves. And Yura about vodka. We agreed that everyone would take a bottle. The backpack inflated and "split" in all directions.
- They forgot about the envelopes ... And about the notebook, - I remembered mom - letters What are you going to write on?
- Mom, what letters? I'll be back in twenty days.
Suddenly they remembered the chicken. Mom baked it in the oven last night. They added chicken, a loaf of bread, a matchbox with salt, three cucumbers and five boiled eggs to the backpack. The backpack was cracking at the seams.
A crimson, sparkling with glass, Ikarus went to Kalinin. Yura squeezed into his seat. The neighbor looked unfriendly at the guy, then at the backpack and ominously advised him to put it in luggage. Yura pretended not to hear, piled the backpack on his knees and pretended to be asleep.
It takes an hour and a half to get to Kalinin. You can have time and take a nap and think. However, he could only think about one thing now. Rather, about one. About Rita.
Within a week, the first chill had passed. She had her own parallel life. He could only occasionally admire her from a distance. Why admire in vain? On Wednesday he looked at her almost indifferently, on Thursday there were no lectures, and he did not see Rita at all. And not a bit upset. On Friday, it was reported that the second group was going together with the first for potatoes, and Yura “twitched”. It's one thing when she wanders around in the evenings with Drone somewhere in another world. And then three weeks nearby ... Unbearable.
Then he decided to get sick. To catch a cold, for example. And get exemption from agricultural work. But the omniscient Zaitsev said that Rita was staying in the city. It’s not good for a professor’s daughter to wander around the villages along with the usual “kids”.
The Ikarus glided elastically along the morning highway, the interior swayed softly and lullingly, the red stripe of dawn grew on the horizon. Light sadness descended into Yurin, half asleep, half awake. Only now did he clearly realize that Rita had not become an indifferent gray shadow for him. And he made a terrible discovery. He missed her presence, her voice... It meant only one thing. He fell in love... Hopelessly. Because to recapture the girl from Dron ....
- And why not? - Thoughts suddenly flowed in a different direction.
- Why is this Dronov so good? Above five centimeters? But erysipelas clearly did not come out. The face is square, the nose is hooked. You can't call a sports figure. Although, according to conversations, he has a rank in boxing. Does he play the guitar? Or rather, strumming. This is of course a plus. A guitar by the fire, a couple of pitiful songs... I should have mastered the guitar in due time... Although, that's not the point. Girls love commanders. And Dron is a commander in life.
Yura became despondent again. There are people who by nature are given to command others. Julius Caesar, for example. Or Alexander the Great... Timur, Genghis Khan. Yes, little. The same Stalin. Sometimes you can't look at a person without tears. Small, puny, walks sideways. Grandfather told how in the early fifties he met such a man in a camp near Vorkuta. The face is emaciated, only the ears stick out, and there is an abyss in the eyes. Take a look, and the soul in the heel. The drone, of course, cannot sit next to that one, but there is still something in it. Calm, unhurried. During the conversation, looks into the eyes. Gives a look. Ruthlessly. Yura couldn't do that. I saw that the interlocutor was yielding and fell into remorse. He could say in pursuit: - "come on, do not be offended, I got excited." Drone never said that. He saw that they were inferior to him, and pressed even harder until the last squeak. Like hammering nails... On the other hand, Rita does not look like a lamb, ready to meekly obey her husband and fulfill his whims. And her husband, the commander, is not at all the dream of her life. I wonder who is in the lead in her family? Mother or father? Yura sometimes met Professor Vorobyov at the institute. An ordinary uncle of about forty-five. Low. Clearly below the daughter. Dense physique, moderately well-fed. Glasses on the nose. If Yura had known that one day he would meet Rita, he would have taken a closer look at the professor. I wonder what Dronov's parents do? Judging by the son, not locksmiths and not painters. Maybe they are familiar with Rita's parents. Then it's seams.
Be that as it may, Rita does not go to the state farm. For three weeks Dron will be in exactly the same position as Yura.
Let's see what kind of leader he is. Girls at the institute are not difficult to command. Let him command in the village. Boys.
Still, it's a pity that Rita is not going.
This was his last thought. The bus stopped at the bus station.
Tram number five ran to the River Station. Yuri is unlucky. Instead of a beautiful comfortable Czechoslovak one, ours came up. Crooked and scruffy. The cars rocked and jerked from side to side, the floor shuddered at the joints and left from under their feet.
Yura was standing on the back platform of the second carriage. The backpack was pounding on my knees.
- Where did I get so much? - the young man thought ruefully, - As if not to the state farm for three weeks, but to the North Pole for the winter. The rest, I suppose, will come with something, and I will come with this.
Previously, he had never been worried about anyone's opinion, and even more so the opinion of his peers, and he always did what was more convenient for himself.
- What if Rita comes to see off Dron?
That's where the dog rummaged. Rita again. That's whose opinion he cares about. Rita will see him with such an ugly backpack. Probably, he will think - mom sent her son and baked pies.
- She won't come. Her classmates look at her like that. For what remains in Kalinin.
A backpack is like a backpack. Nothing extra. Do not walk for three weeks in one shirt. You can't do without boots and a sweater. Let's drink vodka, eat chicken.

Three Lazas lined up in a row in front of the Central Building. The guitar rattled. Someone's cracked voice deduced "we have already played the first half", desperately imitating Gradsky. Yurina's group gathered near the first bus. In vain did he try to see their luggage. Things were already resting in the luggage compartment. Yura tried to find his friend Zaitsev, and also to no avail. The leader of the group, Volodya Protasov, approached.
Protasov is already twenty-three years old. Managed to finish college and serve in the army. Cunning and knows how to force to obey. If he is pushed against the Drone, it is not known whose one he will take. But ... He does not play the guitar and is not "friends" with Vorobyeva.
- Is that all? - Protasov looked in amazement at Yurin's backpack.
- Is he kidding or what? - Yura thought and frowned.
Protasov turned to the bus and called loudly: "Vladimir Palych."
Yura saw the curator of his group, Rudensky. He approached and immediately assessed the situation.
Why didn't you take a blanket and sheets?
- Was it necessary? - Yura was amazed.
- Certainly. I did warn you.
- He said something, - Yura remembered, - And I was staring at Rita.
“They didn’t take it last year,” he muttered grimly.
- Last year we went to Sandovo. There is a rich state farm, and this ...
Rudensky waved his hand dismissively.
- Such a hole .... You will see for yourself. In general, I was against sending you there.
He looked at the despondent Grigoriev and patted him on the shoulder.
- Nonsense. We'll find you a blanket. Put on your backpack.
Yura tucked his luggage between two oversized suitcases.
“Have you seen the Hare?” he asked Protasov.
- The Hare cut off. In the morning I brought a certificate from the medical unit. Have you forgotten the bubble?
- As agreed.
- Where is he?
- In a backpack.
- Is it a fool? Give it here.

It turned out that only five took vodka. Five bottles for twenty-five people. Yura was furious.
- What are you, the smartest? I dragged the bubble through the whole region, but you couldn't take it here.
- What were you carrying? Look at our backpacks. We'll buy vodka on the way.
- Here buy and wake up to drink.
- There is an empty seat next to me. Nineteenth, - said Protasov, - Let's go there. Just don't break the bottle.
He sat down by the window, and Yura was nearby. Rudensky settled down in the front row.
This is how Protasov differs from Dron. The second would never have sat down on the twentieth place. Only forward. Now I would sit next to Rudensky.
Rudensky glanced uneasily at his watch. Suddenly he got up and got off the bus.
- Palych is nervous, - Protasov grinned, - Two groups. Fifty heads. Try it, follow it.
Rudensky got on the bus.
- Vladimir Vasilyevich, check our guys again.
- I already checked a hundred times, Vladimir Palych. Everything is in place. In addition to Gomberg, Goldin, Zaraisky, Zaitsev, Khrustalev and Panfilkina.

Rudensky jumped out of the bus again, walked back and forth. He lit up and called someone. Yura was surprised to see Dron. Rudensky was saying something, while Dronov listened with a frown. Rudensky in his hearts waved his hand, threw a cigarette butt on the ground and headed towards the institute. At that moment, the door opened and Rita appeared. In old jeans and a gray windbreaker. Scarf on the neck. She went up to Rudensky and said something smiling and spreading her arms. He immediately deflated, smiling in response.
“What if one of us were late?” Sidorov asked.
- She came a long time ago. I went to the briefing folder.
- The folder is not sitting here.
- Well, then to someone else. You see, he wipes his lips?
"Shut up," Grigoriev said.
- What? What are you doing?
- True, guys, shut up, - supported Protasov, - You don’t need to pour mud on everyone in a row. A normal girl, but what she will never give you is your difficulties.
They usually did not argue with Protasov. Here also Rudensky arrived in time. Joyfully jumped into his seat, and the bus started moving.
- Do you stand up for everyone or just this one? - Protasov asked with interest.
- For everyone.
- Well done. And Vorobyeva is a cool dude. I would blow it myself, - said Protasov, looking searchingly at Yura.
He sat with an impenetrable face.
- Today we were stunned, - the headman continued, - We see, it's coming .... with Guskov. She is with a suitcase, and Goosek is with a suitcase and two backpacks. We oh…. And. A woman knows how to use men. Drone immediately turned sour. Approached her. She does not look askance at him. I wanted to take her suitcase. Not given.
The spring, compressed inside, suddenly straightened out. Nearly.
- Rassupilis, or what? - Yura asked in an indifferent voice, but it was not easy to deceive Protasov.
- I don't know, - he smiled, looking maliciously at Yura, - Maybe, yes, or maybe she decided to break off his horns.
- What is it like?
Protasov moved closer and whispered directly into his ear.
- Imagine, yesterday she told Valerka that she was going to the state farm. She said in the evening.
Yesterday was Sunday. Sunday evening… Yura felt a pang inside.
- And Valerka is the senior on the bus. So, you must be the first to arrive. I came out at half past nine, and he was already grazing here. In short, he was glad that Vorobyeva was coming and offered to help. She refused. I, they say, will not go so early ... Well, that's all. And today she lowered a polkana on him. It turns out that Valerka was supposed to leave the bus and accompany her. Can you imagine what a woman has for ..s?
“Maybe she just doesn't love him?” Yura asked hopefully.
- What love? Why don't you see her?
He looked closely at Yuri.
"You're just another sucker and don't know shit about women." Believe me, a hardened man, this girl does not love anyone. Parents are there, brothers. I don't count these.
The bus reached Fire Square and turned onto Bezhetskoye Highway.
- It can't be so, - Yura said softly, - Sooner or later, she will fall in love with someone.
- Not necessary.
- And how then to live?
This time Protasov looked at him longer.
“Have you ever been with a woman?” he finally asked.
- Well, it was. And what does it matter?
- And what does love have to do with it? Found a cool girl. No show off. He threw her on the bed, blew her up to her ears. What else do you need?
- We are talking about different things, - said Yura, - I'm talking about subtle matters, and you're talking about e ... yu.
Protasov scoffed.
- You're subtly sensitive, you mean? Odd to us? Aristocrat…. Your mother ... Well, well.
It was not part of Grigoriev's plans to quarrel with the headman.
- Come on, do not be offended - he hastened to say.
- Am I on you?
Protasov's face suddenly cleared up. He remembered the bottle.
- Let's pour.
They drank and ate a cucumber. Neighbors looked with envy.
- To hell with you. Let's have glasses.

You love whoever you want, - Protasov said quietly, - But don't stick to this one. Drone is best kept as a friend.
- I don't give a damn about Vorobyov. You don't need a Drone. Especially as a friend, - Yura answered with irritation.
They fell silent. The bottle was over, I didn't want to talk about anything. Yura dozed off.
Woke up. The bus was parked on the side of the road in a village.
- Goritsy, - said Protasov, - Come on, let's pour.
"Parking for twenty minutes," announced Rudensky.
Yura got out of the bus. The guys rushed to the toilet together. Protasov ahead. There was, it was, the queue quickly dissipated. Protasov disappeared somewhere. Yura walked along the dusty street, comprehending what he had heard from the elder. And suddenly I came across Rita. A huge linden hung over the ditch. One alone. The lower branches descended almost to the ground. Rita stood under the lime tree. She glanced at Yura and again stared at her classmates crowding around the toilet. Not once did he speak to her, and he became a little timid.
“What are you doing?” he himself was surprised at the idiocy of his question.
- I'm waiting, - Rita answered with angry capriciousness and nodded towards the toilet.
- Whom?
- Turn. Are you dumb?
She frowned and looked him up and down. Apparently, having decided that a couple of phrases could be exchanged with the guy, she said with malicious irony.
- At such moments I regret that I am not a man.
- Do you mean…
- Yes, that's exactly what I mean. I would take this thing. One, two and you're done. And no queue.
She looked at the dumbfounded guy and burst out laughing.
- My God, you blushed. Oh, I can't.
She waved her hand and ran to the queue.

Protasov was already there. Yura sat down beside him and looked tenderly at the linden hanging over the ditch. And I saw Rita again. And I heard her laugh. Protasov looked in surprise at the enlightened face. There was something to see. Dreamy absent look thin lips cut with an enigmatic smile. Protasov held his palm in front of his neighbor's eyes.
- What do you want? - Yura asked, continuing to smile.
I myself thought that on the way back I would definitely stand under a linden tree. At least a minute. And, maybe, he will again feel the instant happiness that happened today.
And then he will take out a knife and cut it on the bark: - "I and Rita were here." No, like this: - "Rita and I were here."
Yura was immediately ashamed of the last thought. It's gone and stupid. He looked up from the tree. Protasov fiddled with his sleeve and, smiling happily, showed a bottle of vodka.
- While you pissed, we ran to the store. We took ten bottles.
Life went on.
The bus started moving. The linden was left behind, and the soul ached. Restless, but not sad. And the expectation of something unknown, necessarily joyful, overwhelmed Grigoriev to the brim. Let Protasov look in amazement. What can understand the one for whom love is just five minutes of mediocre copulation.
A perky cheerful rumble and a slight smell of spilled "vodya" ran through the cabin. After smelled fried chicken, pickles, cutlets and, as an apotheosis, boiled eggs.
Yura tuned in to a wave where alcohol was not a mandatory application. But to break away from the team .... Moreover, the nauseating smell of eggs will haunt you until you eat at least one.
- Let's change places, - Protasov got angry, - Look out your window, otherwise you only interfere with cultural rest.
- For God's sake.
Outside the window, copses flew by in a green stripe, a village flashed past, a farm under construction, boundless fields stretched out. A tractor rumbled in the distance, and girls in tracksuits, headscarves and rubber boots followed in a flock. Probably bosses from some institute or "techie". The forest began again, the village of "Upper Trinity" appeared on the left - the birthplace of Mikhail Ivanovich Kalinin. But the fork Kashin - Kalyazin. The bus left to the right.
- Drozd from Kalyazin, - Sashka Sidorov yelled from the last row, - Hey, Drozd, let's pour it.
Igor Drozdovsky, a frail, eared, bespectacled man with shoulder-length linen hairpieces, showed Sasha a muzzle.
- Zhmot - yelled the rest - You shouldn't have poured. Let's take a look at your village.
- Fuck you, we'll pass by.
Rudensky rose from his seat and glared menacingly at the students.
- Vladimir Vasilyevich, put things in order.
- Now, Vladimir Palych.
Protasov shook his fist at the unrestrained group.
Rudensky sat down. He didn't care about discipline. He knew that Protasov kept everyone under control. One glimpse was enough for the curator to see the full picture. The students' faces, so different in the classroom and so the same now. Significant drunken smiles, sparkling eyes, unrestrained laughter, sharp inadequate gestures. It's OK. The guys drank a little and swagger. But Grigoriev... He stares out the window, ignoring the commotion. And like what? The guy thought. It happens to everyone. Another teacher would not have paid attention to this, but something stung Rudensky. He tried to understand his feelings and could not.
- Everyone, Palych, arrived, - the driver suddenly said, - There, they are waiting for you.
Rudensky woke up from his reflections.
- Guys, let's go out, - he ordered shortly, - Do not leave things. Take a close look after yourself.
They left. Slightly fluffy and funny. The driver opened the luggage compartment.
A narrow dirt road stretched from the highway in a bumpy, muddy ribbon. Four tractors with trailer carts perched on the corner. One was equipped with high wooden boards.
The buses turned around. Rudensky and Dronov were explaining something to the drivers. Yura looked at Dron with hostility and envy. Commands on an equal footing with the curator. In the movements of the hands, head imperious significance. The commanding vein is immediately felt. He goes through life like this. Easily and simply occupying command positions. And everyone understands this. And Rita too.
The buses honked goodbye. Protasov and Dronov were distributing the students into carts. The guys from the second helped their classmates climb into the cart with the sides. It was Rita's turn. The boys suddenly stepped back hesitantly and looked at the elder. Rita turned to Guskov with hope, but he backed up and retreated behind his friends. Dronov, realizing his mistake, rushed to Rita, but she pulled away and deftly jumped into the cart without his help.
Yura watched this scene.
- Did you see it? - said Protasov cheerfully.
Yura nodded silently.
Caterpillar DT smoked a pipe and clanging tracks, dragged a cart with girls along a broken road.
“Valerik, climb in with us,” the girls shouted to Dronov.
He was rushing after him, but changed his mind when he saw Ritin's impenetrable profile and waved his hand.
Following the caterpillar, three "Belarus" were attached. Yura found himself in a cart that closed the column. The tractor rattled hoarsely and smoked from the chimney. Huge corrugated wheels rolled over from left to right, and the cart rolled over after. Springs creaked, low sides pounded painfully on the lower back. And behind it flowed a river of mud and clods of earth. Sometimes the wheel fell into an invisible hole, and the cart ugly twisted and squealed as if alive, and the passengers frantically cursed.
Yura tried to convey to Protasov, who was sitting next to him, his feelings, but he shook so that his teeth clattered, and blood flowed from his bitten lip. Yura vowed not to open his jaw until the very village.
Seven kilometers covered in forty minutes. Somewhere in the middle of the way, the second "crew" got stuck. I had to unhook the caterpillar. He previously dragged the onboard cart to the side of the road, and then dragged all the “wheels” through the dangerous place in turn.
The cart tilted to the right so that it seemed a little more and would turn over completely. The guys piled on the port side, convulsively clutching at the steel edges.
- It's good in the village in the summer, - said Vovka Cherepanov.
“And not so much in autumn,” Sidorov added.
And everyone laughed mirthlessly.
- Guys, can you imagine what kind of village this is, if there is such a road to it? - Sidorov said.
At that moment, he shook so hard that he clutched his teeth swearing. It became more fun. Even Yura smiled. Not alone means to suffer. They were just passing by an uncoupled cart with girls. Yura saw Rita. She was sitting with her back to the road, and her friend Zhenya Mayevskaya turned around with interest, suddenly laughed and pushed Rita. She also turned around, looked at Yura and laughed. Yura was taken aback, but Protasov held out a mirror.
His lower lip was bleeding, and a scarlet streak reached his chin. Yura wiped away the blood with a handkerchief, the cart, rumbling, crawled on, the girls laughed after him.

In the tenth grade, classmate Lida Aleksandrenok suddenly began to make fun of Yura. Yura was sitting in the gallery, and she was on the front row next to her friend Valya Strunina. The lesson began, Lida turned her head in his direction and, laughing, whispered something to her friend. She also looked at Grigoriev and laughed. He could not stand such mockery and once squeezed Lida in the corner of the dressing room. She was half a head lower, standing with her back against the wall, and he was against her, leaning his hands on the wall. She couldn't escape, and apparently she didn't want to. And she did not laugh, but her eyes were slightly clouded, and her face turned pink. And he spat with his girl a week earlier and was free as the wind.
She didn't laugh at him anymore. Then they parted. They didn't spit, they just cooled off. School is over, and school love too.
Now Zhenya was making fun of him. And Rita. Again two friends.
He bit his lip. Trifle. None of the boys even smiled. And this is funny. What's funny about a bitten lip? Maybe Mayevskaya is not indifferent to him?
Yura tried to remember everything he knew about her. She is not Kalininskaya. Dress fashionably and expensively. So, parents are likely to be wealthy. Maybe related to trade. Pretty attractive. Before the appearance of Rita, she firmly held the first place. The figure is good, long legs, buttocks are round. Neck high, chic black hair. A little big nose. A little bit. The eyes are black expressive with a slight veil. The chin is hard, the lips are thin. Volitional fold near the lips. She is second only to Rita because she failed to be born into a professorial family. Here Rita has a different face. Blonde hair and blue eyes. But that's not the point. She is more feminine. Chubby lips, a neat nose, eyes ... Here are different eyes. Capricious, arrogant, enthusiastic ... Beautiful girlish eyes without any strong-willed features. Although, according to Protasov, her character is not sugary. Bitchy. But what an attractive bitch. And Zhenya seems to be attractive too, but there is a lot of repulsion in her. So, if she fell for Yura, nothing shines for her.
Finally, the cart got out of the "underworld". Now the girls were in the last row. A few minutes later the wheels rumbled over the heater. The dirt receded. The tractor puffed merrily on its pipe and picked up speed. The cart jumped over boulders buried in the ground. We entered the village. Village houses stretched out, surrounded by thickets of lilac and bird cherry. Rare apples made their way through the greenery of apple trees. The year was lean.
The caterpillar was a hundred meters behind, but the rumble of tracks reached here too. Nothing, let two laughers suffer.
A black mongrel, the size of a good sheepdog, flew out of the doorway, and bursting into a deafening bark, rushed to the cart. The toothy maw flew up over the low steel side. The boys squinted at the yellow fangs apprehensively. Protasov took a shovel that was lying on the floor and slapped the shank on the bared, angry muzzle. The dog squealed, jumped aside, jumped over the ditch and barked hoarsely after him.
- Uh, students, what did the dog do to you? - shouted a fat woman in a cotton skirt and jacket.
“You’d better knock yourself on the head,” shouted a peasant from the outer hut.
And the village came to life. It had just been deserted, and then ghost-like people crawled out of every yard.
- Now same working day. Why are they not in the field? - Tolik Tolmachev was surprised.
- What for? Why the hell do we have to work if we come? - Yura threw angrily.
"Like ghosts," muttered Sidorov.
- You drink more, you will be the same.
Are they drunk or what?
- And then.
The heater ended, the dirty slush started again. From under the wheels of the tractor flew clods of wet earth mixed with manure. The students held their noses in unison.
- Now these laughers will not be laughing, - Yura gloated in his soul.
- Out board - Protasov pointed to a two-story brick building with crumbling plaster.
- And it turns out the main street? Wow. You can drown in that puddle.
They were overtaken by a caterpillar. Yura saw the girls exchanging looks with horror.
- That's what this goat needs. She showed off, she came to raise the village, he thought vindictively.

Under housing allocated the old primary school. A new one was opened last year next to the central estate, and the old building was being prepared to be demolished, but they changed their minds. They patched up, painted, changed windows and doors, and covered the roof with tin. Wooden one-story building in the shape of the letter "G". The "long stick" looked out onto the alley, and the "short" into the yard. The roof has a bizarre shape, like in a fairy-tale house. A gentle four-step staircase leads to a wide porch in the same fabulous style. Two carved wooden columns support a canopy over the porch.
"Convenience" in the yard. Two booths. One is dark from time to time, the second is again knocked together. Rings of fresh shavings are scattered across the territory interspersed with garbage. It can be seen that the booth was made in a hurry for the arrival of the "chefs".
Tractors rolled up to the porch. Everyone helped the girls get out this time. Yura had a bold thought, but Rita was quicker. He only took a step, she had already jumped to the ground, despising help. Zhenya, on the contrary, created a real show. At first she allowed me to take my things, and then she allowed me to the body. And no one, but Dronova. He carefully carried her to the porch. At the same time, he looked askance at Rita several times. She didn't even look askance.
- Like children, - Grigoriev bitterly smiled, - It's funny, by God.
The fact that Rita does not look at Dronov is a bad sign. So they are not done with anything. He just wants to teach him a lesson, as Protasov said.
Through the outer door we went into a short corridor, opened the next door and bumped into the door of the former teachers' room, turned right, passed the locker room and found ourselves in a wide corridor, lit on both sides by light from large half-wall windows. There were four double doors leading into the corridor. Tall, over two meters.
The girls were placed in the first class. In the second - their classmates. The first group settled in the third and fourth. In the teacher's room - Rudensky, Protasov and Dronov.
Grigoriev took a bunk by the last window. A bedside table relied on two beds.
- As in the army, - Vitya Makarov said dreamily, - One bedside table for two. My top shelf. I'm sorry, but I'm so used to it.
Yura didn't mind. Not enough to argue over the shelf. For Makar, it was something else.
- Lower, I suppose, newbies got it? - Yura asked.
- Salagam, - mimicked Makarov, - You know a lot. If we were in the barracks, you would clean your grandfather's boots and run for soldering, and at night I would make you sew up my collar and wash my jacket and pants. And footcloths too. And you would not ask questions, but stood at attention. “There is a comrade senior sergeant, there is a comrade senior sergeant…” Got it?
- You were a senior sergeant, - Yura understood.
- Yeah, yeah. The foreman was demobilized .... Not doggy shit.
- Where did you serve?
- A lot of where. I finished my studies in Volgograd. He took the oath on Mamaev Kurgan. Then in Ukraine... Near Zaporozhye. Then they brought me to Dnepropetrovsk and by plane to Khabarovsk. Nine hours of summer. In Novosibirsk, we sat down for refueling ... In Khabarovsk, we turned around for a day, and then took the train along the Trans-Siberian Railway to Izvestkovaya station, and north to BAM. From there, he demobilized. Station Urgal. Haven't heard?
Yura shook his head.
“What were you doing at BAM?” he asked in surprise.
- Like what? He built the road. I'm in railway troops served. We were just getting started. Even then, no one called it an all-Union construction site. Yes, and did not hear, consider no one. When did you hear about BAM?
- In tenth grade. In the end.
- Wooo. I just served there. He was demobilized at the end of June and immediately the documents were sent to the Polytech. Passed on triplets. And don't give a shit. We are still out of competition.
At that moment Rudensky came in. He glanced at the former class and was pleased.
Well, the guys seem to be doing fine. Clean, light. There is even a TV in the hallway.
- He catches only one channel, Vladimir Pavlovich.
- Well, at least one. I didn't expect that either. I thought they would put me in trailers, like in Sandovo last year... Grigoriev... Yura... I'll get you a blanket and sheets in the evening. In the second, by the way, two did not listen to the end either.
- If these are girls, let them come to us. We will move forward,” said Sidorov.
- Dreaming. Women always hear everything correctly. These guys are gouging. Will you accept guys?
- I'm not on this case, - Sidorov snapped to the laughter of his friends.
Music blared behind the wall. The guys from the second turned on the tape recorder.
- "In the French side on an alien planet
“I’m going to study at the university…”
Ivanov's voice boomed from the speakers.
- Ay la! Lay! Lay! La! - they shouted in the corridor to the beat of the “vagants”.
- Let's take a walk, eh, Vladimir Palych? - the guys yelled.
He raised his hand in protest.
- Stop. No partying. We go out into the corridor.
Looking at each other in bewilderment, they went out into the corridor after the curator. Dronov stood at the door of the second class.
- Valery Nikolaevich, tell them to turn off the music, - Rudensky ordered, - And everyone here. The whole group.
The music was cut off. Dronov knocked on the door of the first class.
“What do you need?” came the reply.
Dronov explained. Mayevskaya looked out and asked irritably:
- Can you give us a change?
I saw Rudensky and lowered my tone.
- Well, in fact, Vladimir Pavlovich, we are off the road. This is one or two for you, and that's it.
- Evgenia, don't worry, - Rudensky soothed, - It will take about twenty minutes, no more.
Zhenya hid behind the doors. A few minutes later, dissatisfied girls came out, looking around unkindly.
- What's the matter? - asked Lyuba Krapivina, a plump little man with a haircut "ala Gorson".
“They didn’t even have time to sort things out,” the rest picked up.
At that moment, a man in his thirties in a gray suit stepped cautiously into the corridor. The trousers are neatly tucked into chrome boots. Average height. Dark-haired. Look like a naughty dog.
- This is the director of the state farm, - Protasov hissed Yura.
- This is the director of the state farm Baryshnikov Nikolai Pavlovich, - Rudensky repeated as an echo, - Listen carefully and do not interrupt. Questions at the end and to the point ... Nikolai Pavlovich, maybe we'll go out into nature?
He shook his head negatively.
- The villagers will gather, they will start to clamor ... Let's go here.
The headmaster uttered the word "village" disdainfully.
- He lives in Kalyazin, - Protasov hissed, - He comes here on the "Goat". Every day.
- Let's get acquainted, - the director began uncertainly, - As Vladimir Pavlovich already said, I am the director of the Luch state farm. My surname is Baryshnikov. My name is Nikolai Pavlovich. It seems like your countryman. He studied in Sakharov in the "agricultural". Have you heard of this?
- Heard, - they answered him in chorus.
The famously started introduction ended, and the director got down to business. He blushed, turned pale, looked at the girls from the front rows and was completely embarrassed.
- Well, in general, I think .... In short, settle down today, and tomorrow at eight in the morning your leaders, - the director glanced at Rudensky with Dronov, - Let them come to the planning meeting.
He fell silent.
- A working day since what? - asked him.
- From nine zero zero.
- Oh, how strict. Direct zero to zero, - Zhenya quipped.
Baryshnikov darted a glance at her and blushed.
“Zhenya,” Dronov hissed warningly.
- What am I? I just asked.
- I'll talk to you later.
- Can not wait.
"What other questions?" asked Baryshnikov, trying not to look at Mayevskaya.
- Have you finished yet?
- Nuuu, in general terms.
- Will there be a bath?
Baryshnikov wilted, the students gasped
- What, there won't be a bath or what? Gosha.
- Will be, will be, - Rudensky raised his hand soothingly, - There is a bathhouse here. Nice beautiful bathhouse for thirty people.
The students were worried.
Baryshnikov whispered something to Rudensky.
- Ahhh, I beg your pardon, - the curator continued, - Some clarifications. There are three days for women and three for men. Sanitary Monday.
The students got excited. Baryshnikov whispered something again.
- Ahhh... And the locals don't want to wash with the students. Especially women... Well, here they are, - Rudensky spread his hands.
The students gasped.
“And what, we don’t have to walk around washed now?” the girls squealed in one voice.
- We will solve this issue.
- How?
We'll sort it all out by the end of the day. Well, what are you burning, or what?
- What if it's on fire? What if we start doing business?
It was impossible to embarrass Rudenskov. And Baryshnikov became like a peeled beetroot. Dronov, in general, took everything with humor, like a father-commander.
- Raise your hands, who started, - he said.
The girls giggled, the guys whinnied. Nobody raised their hand.
- Well, okay, - Dronov rubbed his hands contentedly, - And by the evening we'll think of something. Really, Nikolai Palych?
The director nodded grimly.
- There is nowhere to even wash off the road, - Rita was indignant.
- They went for the washstands, - said Dronov, - They promised as many as five.
He was already in charge and was in the know.
- Lyubitsky and Yakovlev, help install the washbasins.
- Where to put them? We have no idea.
- Tsyts. Bring it, I'll show you where.
Yura noticed how Rita threw an approving glance at Dronov.
- In, who should be the director, - Sidorov hissed in Yura's ear and finished off the guy to the end.

Baryshnikov, accompanied by Rudenskov and Protasov, left the school. Dronov was delayed. The boys and girls dispersed from room to room, noisily discussing the latest news. Dronov ran into the first class. Yura hesitated and through the half-open door heard Dronov say:
- Girls, listen here. The director is nobody. Complete zero. Everything is managed by the chief agronomist Alekhina Zinaida Makarovna. Baba is thirty, an apartment in Kalyazin, but there is a house here, and she lives in it all the time. And the director is her lover and often spends the night with her. She is jealous as hell. God forbid you look at the director the wrong way in front of her.
- Not so, how is it? - Zhenya asked.
- Don't play the fool. You understand very well. Basically, I warned you. She will send you to twist the tails of the cows. Even without a paycheck.
Yes, we need him. Chmo unfinished, - the girls rustled.

Yura listened. The door suddenly opened and Rita came out. She saw Grigoriev and tightly closed the door. He felt as if she had caught him doing some dirty work.
- Eavesdropping? - asked Rita with a grin.
- What do you have there to listen to? - He suppressed embarrassment - Although no, it became interesting. Not a village, but an adventure novel.
- Yes, they did.
She suddenly laughed.
- And you, poor thing, even bit your lip. So sorry for you.
Zhenya came out. As if a minute could not live without a friend.
- Ooooh, what am I seeing, - she drawled in a mannered manner, - Do you have an affair planned?
- Yeah, - Rita laughed, - Adventurous.
- Yurik, who kissed you like that? - Zhenya continued, - Such a hickey. Even with blood.
They laughed and quickly walked towards the exit.

Yura went out onto the porch. He stood for a few seconds, leaning against the railing. Rita is not worth the wait. All the same Zhenya won't let me talk.
I went beyond the fence enclosing the territory of the former school and ended up in an alley. Where to go? He turned left. He passed the school, turned around and out of the corner of his eye noticed Zhenya at the planed booth. She showed him her tongue.
Standing at the push, but his face is still arrogant, he thought.
I suddenly remembered. The girl Zina Guseva studied in his class. She just knew how to look. Arrogant and contemptuous. Once he caught her reading a certain book.
- If it's not a secret, what are you reading? - he asked, looking over her shoulder.
She closed the book with her body and said with contempt: - "Not for average minds."
Then he found out that she had read "Peter the Great" by Alexei Tolstoy. A completely average book - "ordered". And yet, in the eighth grade, she knew the multiplication table up to eight. So far it hasn't worked.
Zhenya has a mathematical mindset and a rank in chess. By the way, on the run too. It's hard to talk to her. She communicates condescendingly and despises the opinion of the interlocutor in advance.
- This fool will never get married, - Yura stated and also showed Zhenya his tongue.
And I almost ran into Rudensky.
Guys, you amaze me. How old are you? I'm your age ... - he began.
“You might think you are much older,” Yura interrupted.
- Thirty already. Nearly.
Rudensky was twenty-eight, but he added for solidity.
- Listen, Yura, are you from Volzhsk?
- Yes. And what?
- Here, it turns out, a whole brigade of your fellow countrymen is working. Workers from a mechanical plant. Heard about this?
- Certainly.
- Do you see that trailer? - Rudensky pointed to a bright red trailer nestled on a small hillock at the end of a short lane, - That's where they live. Nikolai Pavlovich said that they needed a man for the brigade. Maybe you will go? If you don't like it, go back.
- Where did you take him? There, I suppose, one drunkard, - Protasov was indignant.
- Well no. They arrived a week ago, drank clean and have been working for two days. And they will work until the advance payment. It's two weeks. So, Yur?
- I don't know, - Yura shrugged his shoulders indecisively, - I would like to do it with my own.
- Eccentric, work the shift and be with your own. And sleep at school.
- Need to think.
- Think. Let's go and meet them. They're just on their lunch break.
Protasov returned to school, and Rudensky and Grigoriev moved along the lane. On both sides, instead of houses, the remains of charred logs and sooty foundations stuck out.
- In the spring there was a fire here, - said Rudensky, - The last house caught fire, it was blown away by the wind ... While the firemen arrived in time, the whole street burned out.
- Weird. We had fires in the private sector in Volzhsk. These houses were on fire. But how the whole world will pile on ... Neighboring houses were poured with water.
- In the spring, - Rudensky repeated, raising his index finger, - Guess when.
Yura seems to understand.
- On the first of May, right?
- A little bit wrong, but you think right. On Victory Day. Just on the night from the ninth to the tenth. All the men were drunk to death. And firefighters too.
They walked in silence about twenty meters.
- National disease - said Rudensky - In the villages, this is especially noticeable. How many villages have I traveled in ten years. State farms, collective farms. Drinking everywhere. A little more, a little less, but everywhere. They drink out of desperation. Look at the conditions here. Not even speakers. Wells only. There are no roads. There is no sewerage. Although there, outside the village, some sewage treatment plants were built about three years ago. For what? There are no apartment buildings. And the club? You should have seen. Guys get a specialty in the army and get hooked in the city. And here it is slowly degrading. Shit, Yura. When I imagine who will live here in twenty years, I am taken aback.
After the conversation, we reached the place. They knocked on the door, entered the trailer and found themselves in the hallway. A good part was occupied by a furnace with a metal pipe. On the sides are two doors to the rooms.
- May I come to you? - Rudensky asked loudly.
- Come in, - came from the right room.
They went. Four men were slaughtering a goat at a small table. The rest of the space was occupied by beds. A girl was sitting at the end, darning an old battered shirt. She glanced at the newcomers and continued her lesson.
- Do you need a hillock? - asked one of the domino players, - He is in the dining room. Look for him there. And Vasya is a technologist in the same place. They only come here in the evening.
- Dining room, where is it?
The men tried to explain. Everything is different. Collective Ivan Susanin.
- I show me girl got up from the bed, - Just on the way.
They got out of the wagon.
“Who are you?” she asked without much interest.
The men introduced themselves.
- Are you from Volzhsk? - the girl gasped, - And so am I. I live in a hostel on Gagarin.
- Are you alone here or are there other women?
- I'm not with them. I was seconded from the plant for six months. Been here for three months now. I'm a milkmaid. And it's so simple. I went to my countrymen. And Lebed's shirt was torn... Over there is the dining room. White with trumpet.
She went her own way.
"Thank you," the men called after them.
- Ugly, - flew up to them.
- That's what I thought, - said Rudensky, - You shouldn't go to the brigade. Such faces are protocol. It is understandable. Which director will send normal hard workers from the factory. Here come the bastards…. They won't teach you anything good.

It was decided on that. Rudensky went back to the school, and Yura decided to hang around the neighborhood.
The village, however, was not small. Wherever you look at houses and gardens. A temple rose in the distance. Whitewashed, with painted domes. Yura moved towards him and suddenly appeared on the square. With asphalt and curbs. Several posters called for the victory of communism, and two Ilyichs squinted at each other. Vladimir and Leonid.
Yura turned into a neat lane and suddenly found himself in the same neat courtyard. With swings and sandbox. At the table, the men famously slaughtered the “goat”. Edrena's mother flew around the district, but not defiantly.
The path was blocked by steel T-bars of green color with stretched clotheslines. An old friend was busy with one. Yura wanted to call out to her, but remembered that he did not know her name. He walked up to her and said, "Hi."
She turned around in surprise.
- Are you here? Did you follow?
Yura was not embarrassed.
"A little," he said.
- Yeah, so I believed you. A little bit. With all eyes, I suppose, followed.
“Everything,” Yura admitted.
“What is your name?” she asked.
- Yura.
- And I'm Luda. Lyudmila. Dear people.
- Do you live here? - Yura glanced sideways at three two-story houses made of white brick, standing at a distance.
- Yeah. At the agronomist. At Makarovna. Heard about this one?
- Yes, something. I was told that she has a house.
- You spoke correctly. But she also has an apartment. True one-room, but enough for me.
- Is there water there? - Yura asked with envy.
- Everything is. As in a normal apartment.
It came to her.
- You came today, didn't you? And there is nowhere to wash ... And a push in the street.
Yura nodded and spread his arms.
- I'm running to the farm now...
Yura bowed his head.
- Come at eight o'clock. Okay?

Yura returned back by a roundabout way. I wanted to see all the charms of the village. The temple up close was not so enchanting. The roof and domes clearly required repair, and the facade was badly peeling and even cracked in one place. Behind the church fence was an abandoned churchyard with crooked crosses. A young man with a ruddy cheerful face in a bushy beard was getting into the Zhiguli. A black cassock hung from under a dark jacket. Slight inconsistency in appearance place of service and the person serving in it.
Yura turned back, walked along an abandoned overgrown area with a fallen fence, past a rotten well log house and ran into a wooden trailer. I walked around and saw that the windows and the door were boarded up with boards crosswise. There were logs nearby. Old ones with wide cracks along the trunk. Yura looked around and immediately recognized the place. On the right is the red trailer into which he and Rudensky went an hour ago. Directly opposite is the school. There are two guys from the second. Yuriev and Pakhomov. Vera Tyurina approached them.
- Listen, boy.
Yura looked around. One of the domino players was standing at the door of the red trailer.
“Did you find a mound?” he asked.
- Not. Not needed.
The man looked hard.
- Well, look. It's your business.
He narrowed his eyes and glared at Yura with unblinking eyes.
- Somewhere I have seen you before .... Are you not from Volzhsk for an hour?
Yura nodded.
- Oh, the earth .... Come on.
The land is so land. Yura went into the trailer. Nobody. Probably everyone is at work.
- I'm like an orderly, - the man said, - Yesterday he hurt his hand with a saw, - he pulled up his sleeve and showed the bandage, - You come in, come in. Get in there. How to praise you?
- Yura.
- And I'm Prokopych. Let's get acquainted.
However, the man did not give his hand. Yura sat down on a stool by the window.
- From the Institute means? - said Prokopych - It's good. My nephew is also in college. Do your parents live in Volzhsk?
- In Volzhsk.
- What are they doing?
- Uncle Vitya ... Well, my stepfather is in the timber industry, and my mother is a teacher.
- Uncle Vitya from the timber industry ... Who is this? I know everyone from the forestry industry. What is his last name?
- Grigoriev.
The man thought.
- Vitya Grigoriev .... Is that Viktor Vasilich? Head forester?
- He is. You know him?
- Who doesn't know him? Vasilich is a serious person. And do you know the son of his brother? ... He knew Vladimir Vasilich. The man was tough. Vitya is softer. Your father went to his father. In Vasily Yurich. There was a man. Sometimes he would take a look ... And then you relieve a great need for an hour.
The door opened and a guy appeared. A little older than Yura. Tall in an old shaggy jacket, filthy trousers and rubber boots.
- What are you doing, Kostyan? - asked Prokopych.
- Solars secured. Kuzmich asked.
A three-liter jar filled with a dark liquid appeared from under the jacket. Prokopych opened plastic cover, sniffed and spat in the hearts.
- Poison, not solarium. Where did you find this?
- What was, - offended Kostyan.
- Meet Kostya ... Our land. Student. The name is Yura.
The guys said hello. Kostyan was in a hurry.
- That's it, Prokopych, I have to go.
- I'll go too, - said Yura.
This time Prokopych shook hands with him.
- Come on, land. Come in if you need help.
Went outside. Kostyan rushed straight through the ashes. Yura is behind him.
- Hey, Kostya, I have a question for you.
- And I have to you. Do you have mani?
- What? - Yura was surprised.
- Money. Student but don't know the language.
- And would be - did not give.
- What?!
“Prokopych forbade me,” Yura lied.
Kostyan immediately wilted.
Don't tell him what I asked. Is it coming?
- Goes. Say, a girl from Volzhsk works here. Seems like a milkmaid.
- And why do you need it? - Kostyan was wary.
- I just wanted to know who she is.
- How do you even know about her?
- I came here for lunch. She just was.
- Was. She stayed... This is Lyudka... **** ear.
Kostyan chewed his lips.
- But you won't. Do not be offended, fellow countryman, he does not give us either. Only from other cities. And that is not always the case. Only when nature asks. One word animal. As soon as the bitch starts estrus, he will not miss a single male. And this one is the same.
- She is engaged in a group sex? - Yura was amazed.
- Gangbang what is it? When all at once?... No. So, of course not. Cultural bitch and clean always. Washed, I mean…. But one will be torn to pieces. To the last drop.
- How do you know?
- What does she live in the sky? Fuck ... we know her. The main thing, that's because a bitch. Well, worse than me a hundred times. It gives to him, but not to me. Crawl on your knees - will not give. And to that from a running start. Once it seems everything came out. Tits crumpled. He held by the ass ... No, the bastard turned out. And she went to the call.
- And when does she have this call?
- And the devil knows her. I haven't seen her calendars. What's the difference to you? Still won't.
- And if I say that I am Kalininsky?
Kostyan was upset.
- Well, if so…. It might give... OK. Pokedova.
He angrily looked at Yura and rushed on.

To be continued.

Tver State Technical University (TSTU). Tver State Technical University: description, faculties, program and reviews

Creation of a university in Moscow

Development of institutions in Kalinin and Tver

Facts about the university

The structure of the educational institution

Additional faculties

The best educational programs at the university

Tver State Technical University: branches and university reviews

TVSTU entered the subject ranking of world universities RUR - 2018

Tver Polytechnic University entered the top 100 Russian universities in the ARES-2018 international ranking

Tver Polytechnic University entered the reputation rating of the international agency

Volunteers of the Polytechnic University visited the children in the rehabilitation center

Tver universities are not included in the TOP-100 best in Russia according to the RAEX agency

University rectors

University presidents

Faculties

Links

Notes

See what "Tver State Technical University" is in other dictionaries:

University rectors

University presidents

Faculties

Links

Notes

See what "Tver State Technical University" is in other dictionaries: