"Arkady & Boris Strugatsky - Tale of the Troika" - читать интересную книгу автора (Strugatski Arkady)

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TALE OF THE TROIKA
Arkady and Boris Strugatsky

The story began like this. One day, at the peak of my work rush, as I was sweating over a lost
shipment intended for the Kitezhgrad Magicotechnical Plant, my friend Eddie Amperian showed up in my
office. Being a polite and well-brought-up person, he did not materialize unceremoniously right in the
rickety visitor's chair, or barge in obnoxiously through the wall, or hurtle through the open transom like a
catapulted cobblestone. Most of my friends are always in a hurry, late for something, or behind schedule,
and they always materialize, or barge in, or hurtle through shamelessly whenever they feel like it,
eschewing normal communications. Eddie was not like them: he modestly entered through the door. He
even knocked, but came in before I had time to answer.
He stopped in front of me, said hello, and asked:
"Do you still need the Black Box?"
"Box?" I muttered, my mind still on the lost goods. "What can I tell you? What box do you mean?"
"I'm disturbing you, aren't I?" polite Eddie said carefully. "I'm sorry, but the boss sent me over. You
see, approximately an hour from now the new elevator system will be launched for its first run beyond the
thirteenth floor. We've been offered a ride."
My mind was still saturated with the noxious fumes of inventory jargon, and all I could say was:
"We were supposed to have lost an elevator at the thirteenth floor of this year?"
But then the first few bits of Eddie's information penetrated my gray matter. I laid down my pen and
asked him to repeat what he had said. Eddie did so, patiently.
"Really?" I asked in a faint whisper.
"Absolutely," Eddie said.
"Let's go," I said, getting the folder with the requisitions out of my desk.
"Where?"
"What do you mean where? To the seventy-sixth floor."
"Not just like that," Eddie said, shaking his head. "First we have to drop in to see the boss."
"What for?"
"He asked us to. There's some problem involved with the seventy-sixth floor. The boss wants to brief
us."
I shrugged without arguing. I put on my jacket, pulled out the requisition for the Black Box from the
folder, and we set off to see Eddie's boss, Fedor Simeonovich Kivrin, head of the Department of Linear
Happiness.
An unbelievable hubbub reigned on the platform of the first floor in front of the elevator cage. The
door of the shaft was open, as was the door into the elevator itself. Many lights were burning, the mirrors
were sparkling, and the polished surfaces gleamed. Under the old, peeling banner that proclaimed "Let's
Get the Elevator Up by the Holiday!" huddled a crowd of curiosity seekers and people wanting rides.
They were all listening politely to Modest Matveevich Kamnoedov, the deputy director, who was giving
a speech before some electricians from the Solovetsk Boiler Supervisor's Department.
"This must be stopped," Modest Matveevich exhorted. "This is an elevator, not some spectroscope
or microscope. The elevator is a powerful means of locomotionтАФthat's primary. It is also a means of
transportation. The elevator must be like a dump truck: it gets you there, dumps you out, and comes
back. That's point one. The administration has long been aware that many of our fellow scientists, and
that includes some academicians, do not know how to use an elevator. We are combating this, and we
will put an end to it. There will be examinations for licenses for operating an elevator, and past services to
us will not be taken into consideration тАж the establishment of the title of Senior Elevator
Operator тАж and so on. That's my second point. And on their part the electricians must guarantee
uninterrupted service. There's no use in falling back on objective conditions as an excuse. Our slogan is