"Mikhail Bulgakov. The Fateful Eggs ("Роковые яйца")" - читать интересную книгу автора

July when a short item about the ray appeared in the Science and Technology
News section on page 20 of the newspaper Izvestia. It announced briefly that
a well-known professor at the Fourth University had invented a ray capable
of increasing the activity of lower organisms to an incredible degree, and
that the phenomenon would have to be checked. There was a mistake in the
name, of course, which was given as "Pepsikov".
Ivanov brought the newspaper and showed Persikov the article.
"Pepsikov," muttered Persikov, as he busied himself with the chamber in
his laboratory. "How do those newsmongers find out everything?"
Alas, the misprinted surname did not save the Professor from the events
that followed, and they began the very next day, immediately turning
Persikov's whole life upside down.
After a discreet knock, Pankrat appeared in the laboratory and handed
Persikov a magnificent glossy visiting card.
"'E's out there," Pankrat added timidly.
The elegantly printed card said:

Alfred Arkadyevich Bronsky
Correspondent for the Moscow magazines Red Light, Red Pepper, Red
Journal and Red Searchlight and the newspaper Red Moscow Evening News

"Tell him to go to blazes," said Persikov flatly, tossing the card
under the table.
Pankrat turned round and went out, only to return five minutes later
with a pained expression on his face and a second specimen of the same
visiting card.
"Is this supposed to be a joke?" squeaked Persikov, his voice shrill
with rage.
"Sez 'e's from the Gee-Pee-Yoo," Pankrat replied, white as a sheet.
Persikov snatched the card with one hand, almost tearing it in half,
and threw his pincers onto the table with the other. The card bore a message
in ornate handwriting: "Humbly request three minutes of your precious time,
esteemed Professor, on public press business, correspondent of the satirical
magazine Red Maria, a GPU publication."
"Send him in," said Persikov with a sigh.
A young man with a smoothly shaven oily face immediately popped out
from behind Pankrat's back. He had permanently raised eyebrows, like a
Chinaman, over agate eyes which never looked at the person he was talking
to. The young man was dressed impeccably in the latest fashion. He wore a
long narrow jacket down to his knees, extremely baggy trousers and
unnaturally wide glossy shoes with toes like hooves. In his hands he held a
cane, a hat with a pointed top and a note-pad.
"What do you want?" asked Persikov in a voice which sent Pankrat
scuttling out of the room. "Weren't you told that I am busy?"
In lieu of a reply the young man bowed twice to the Professor, to the
left and to the right of him, then his eyes skimmed over the whole
laboratory, and the young man jotted a mark in his pad.
"I am busy," repeated the Professor, looking with loathing into the
visitor's eyes, but to no avail for they were too elusive.
"A thousand apologies, esteemed Professor," the young man said in a