Elena Speranskaya - Three Stars. FAIRY TALES FOR CHILDREN AND YOUTH

“You are not afraid?” Regina was surprised, mechanically adjusting the blond-ash strand of hair, which spread out because of the monsoon that had flown in from space.

“Whom? Women or clones?”

“Consider that both…”

“Not. They get excellent nutrition and monitor their posture.”

“I represent the staff weapon of your employees,” she snapped, showing off her tall stature.

“Our interests diverge with them, because our special forces are engaged in adapting submarine modules to simulators, redirecting ecological waste to the sedimentation tanks in order to cut down and store scrap metal, and remold it into hydraulic turbines for nuclear power plants.

“Probably often have you to travel to the disarmed third world countries?”

“It happens, but not so often…” he paused, remembering the only trip.

“Tell me,” she demanded imperiously.

“Then I had one to carry rusted ‘tin can’ in the Pacific Ocean. Blew apart one by one, pirate ships on the way,” he made a significant pause. “Cleared the territory, ignoring the statement of the Commander-in-Chief not to take up arms.”

“But is it like in a computer game?”

“Nearly.”

“And what is wrong?”

“It would take a long time to explain this. All cruisers were covered with some gray bloom, so it was difficult to distinguish against the background of water.”

“Why did you need this?”

“Earned annual premium and supersonic jet for personal use. Actually, I noticed you a long time here.”

“Follow?”

“This is included in the pranks of our gunners, and we just get information about all the drivers crossing the light box.”

Regina’s mood dropped a few degrees, suddenly causing a fit of anger.

“It’s good that I only found out about this now, otherwise I would have to swallow headache pills on entering my electric car into the access zone.”

“Will you give me an invitation to your premiere?” Gabriel asked, portraying bewilderment and desire to please.

“Rest assured. But you have to wait. To be honest, my career completely depends on the flagship and celluloid balls suspended from the ceiling of the theater.”

“Will you perform on the indoor stage?”

“We’ll have to get used to. But with a knife made of shiny cardboard, I already had a chance to rehearse.”

“It’s nice to hear that you are so busy,” he said, squinting as he sat down in the driver’s seat.

“Look, I have a lot of good paper,” she pointed to a stack of newspapers and magazines of the last century, when she sat in the back seat. “Can you imagine, it is a pity to pull the strap? Everything is already there. Nothing needs to be invented.”

Disregarding the generally accepted standards of behavior, she, scratching the back of her head with something like a lighter, began to flip through what lay on top of the back seat.

“I’ll take you where you tell me, and then I’ll pick you up with valuable corrections to the chain of transmissions of your electric car. Agree?”

“Do I have a choice? I need to get to the theater rehearsal,” she said nervously, trying to joke again.

“None of our employees have this ugliness,” said Gabriel, implying her driving force.

“You can send me your message telepathically or just call the watch. I will immediately be summoned to an artistic dressing room for negotiations.”

Gabriel drove prudently at low speed.

“I hope that our interns will test your engine and send for revision.”

“How much will I owe you? I do not like to stay in debt.”

“Prepare twenty dinars.”

“Agreed.”

They passed the light frame, drove into the central area. The whole military garrison of the city was stationed there, and next to it was a theater, out of old habit, called the “Theater of War and Peace”. This state institution attracted not only the civilian population, but also the militia from Central Asia and the Mediterranean, who accepted refugee status.

“I’ll be waiting for you to appear at the artistic emergency exit,” said Gabriel, looking at Regina with enthusiasm and sympathy.

Definitely, she did not want to go to the rehearsal, so she pulled time, deliberately, melancholically folding a stack of newspapers and magazines in reverse order.

“These are the deposits I have. I also want to boast of postcards and ‘playthings and tricks’ for those who like to ride. But this is not new to you. You’re probably tired? You can have dinner or drink something stronger tea. For example, a cup of coffee with lime.”

“We’ll stop after your rehearsal in the nearest supermarket. There you can have a good time, at the same time and pamper yourself with some kind of local drink. Do you drink soda water with cakes or just eat some roasted chestnuts?”

“After the bel canto, the sopranos prefer both. I can even eat a week-long supply of products from a foreign manufacturer from an ice-bridge.”

“I will take into account your wishes and tastes. Good luck!”

They parted with bitter facial expressions. Everyone went about their daily business.

Gabriel left the zone of access to his hangar for the repair of multi-tier simulators, where besides him worked two mechanic trainees dismantling all types of electrical devices: exercise bikes for employees studying heart rate changes, body temperature and finding a pacemaker; side robots, leading the main work on the assembly of all aerodynamic simulators; operating systems that control clone bracelets; electronic payroll receipt orders; electric engineers, as in the subway, for employees when they descended into underground communication laboratories; light displays at the intersection of each inspection room, where all the secret materials of the aerodrome were placed, and much more that was their responsibility.

Regina, with the hope of a speedy meeting with Gabriel, appeared on the theatrical stage between the wings without a princess costume, afraid to move, causing the director’s anger, since there was no time for dressing up.

“So, I do not see the main character,” shouted the director, waving his hands for clarity. “Why there is no light frame. We must maintain our security from the sudden invasions of clones.”

He settled down near the stage in an armchair, and on his desk there was already a cup of freshly prepared coffee. In appearance he was about sixty. Tall, thin, greyish, with nervous movements, dressed in a suit and an ordinary gray robe, which he wore to warm in order not to freeze in a cold room. After working for many years in this position, he had several clones at his disposal, which he used for his work at hand, but did not allow him to approach himself, but only transmitted radio signals to their bracelets.

“I did not have ten minutes to disguise because of traffic jams and accidents on the road. I had to wait,” becoming the opposite of the director in the polar direction, Regina, the lead singer performing the main part, explained disappointedly.

“Ok,” the director clapped his hands. “Getting started. Your way out.”

Played a quick tune from the speakers. Regina, checking her voice with a phonogram that slid over a quiet background, sang Gilda’s part from Verdi’s opera “Rigoletto”.

The action of the second act, they rehearsed several times with the scenery, so the appearance of the indispensable, the only soloist so angered the director, introducing the entire troupe into such confusion that Rigoletto himself, who was both the director and Regina’s father, made everyone move in a circle. Other female actors, performers of roles, diligently brushing the dust from the dresses, entered the images, preparing to shine on the stage in a similar way. They were comprehensively developed, civilized, melodiously repeating to themselves the texts of the arias in Italian. Regina placed all her arias in a small box of a recorder, so from childhood she could not imagine her life outside the theater. They always trusted her, set the example of the whole troupe, not stint on compliments. And this time the director, having finished his role, instructively said: