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

"Yes."
"Well, say hello," the stranger said and paid no more attention to us. The elevator rose slowly,
trembling in time with the song.
Eddie and I were so embarrassed that we set ourselves to learning the "Rules of Operation" etched
on a brass plate. We learned that it was against the rules: for bats, vampires, and flying squirrels to settle
in the car; to exit through the walls in case of an emergency stop between floors; to transport flammable
and explosive materials as well as vessels containing genies or dragons without fireproof muzzles; and for
house spirits to use the elevator without accompanying humans. Also everyone without exception was
forbidden to create mischief, be involved in sleeping, or to hop.
We did not have the chance to read all the rules. The car stopped, the stranger got out, and Eddie
pressed seventy-six one more time. At that very second the elevator rushed up with a ferocity that made
us blank out. When we came to, the elevator was motionless and the door was open. We were on the
seventy-sixth floor. We looked at each other and went out bearing our requisitions over our heads like
white flags. I do not know for sure what it was we expected, but it was bound to be bad.
However, nothing terrible happened. We found ourselves in a round, empty, and very dusty room
with a low gray ceiling. A white boulder, looking like an antitank stake placement, grew out of the
parquet floor. Old yellowed bones were scattered around the boulder. There was the smell of mice, and
it was murky. Suddenly the elevator gate clanged shut. We shuddered and turned around, but all we saw
was the roof of the descending car. An evil roar filled the room and died down. We were trapped. I
desperately wanted to get back downstairs immediately, but the lost look that crossed Eddie's face gave
me strength. I stuck out my jaw, folded my hands behind my back, and headed for the boulder,
maintaining an independent and skeptical air. Just as I had expected, the boulder was a road marker,
often encountered in fairy tales. The sign over it looked something like this:

No.1. If you go to the right, you'll lose your head.
 No.2. If you go to the left, you'll get nowhere.
No.3. If you go straight, you'll

"They've scraped off the last part," Eddie explained. "Aha. There's something else written in pencil:
'We are here тАж we consulted the people тАж and the opinion is тАж that we should go тАж straight. Signed:
L. Vuniukov.' "
We looked straight ahead. Our eyes had adjusted to the diffused light, and we saw the doors. There
were three of them. The doors leading to what might be considered the right and the left were boarded
shut, and there was a path going around the boulder through the dust from the elevator to the middle
door.
"I don't like any of this," I said with courageous forthrightness. "These bones тАж "
"I think they're ivory," Eddie said. "But that's not important. We can't go back, can we?"
"Maybe we could write a note and throw it down the shaft? Otherwise we'll disappear without a
trace."
"Alex, don't forget that we are in telepathic communication. It's embarrassing. Get yourself together."
I got myself together. I stuck out my jaw again and resolutely strode toward the middle door. Eddie
walked next to me.
"The Rubicon is crossed!" I announced and kicked the door.
The effect was wasted. There was a barely noticeable sign on the door that said "Pull," and the
Rubicon had to be crossed a second time, without the grand gestures and with the humiliating application
of force to the powerful springs.
There was a park bathed in sunlight on the other side of the door. We saw sandy paths, trimmed
hedges, and warning signs: "Do not walk on the lawn and do not eat the grass." There was a cast-iron
park bench with a broken back, and a strange man wearing a pince-nez was sitting on it, reading a
newspaper and wriggling his bare toes. Seeing us, he became embarrassed for some reason, and without