Чтение онлайн

Time in space, like on earth, goes at different speeds. Sometimes a month flies past like several days, and sometimes one day lasts like eternity!

It is the TIME becomes a threat and a difficulty, just like everything around in the open space. “Solar wind” calms down or strengthens, sometimes it practically disappears… meteorites flash past far or very near, and the “bravest” of these burn in the magnetic field of the spaceship.

This two-hundred-meter magnetic field around MS 88 burned almost completely the dangerous impact of cosmic radiation that penetrated through anything, and besides – high-energy particles of such a set of cosmic radiations that were fortunately not even dreamed of on Earth.

And time does not burn, it is not near and not far – it is always close to you and there is no protection from it! At least, for the time being…

The first month of flight was the fastest and the easiest. While settling in on the spaceship, we got used to it working, not standing in the integration house or training center. And everyday experiments and research were carried out as usual during this period of adaptation on board, so time passed unnoticed.

Everyday duties in space were now performed in the automatic, somewhat background mode. Having come to terms with practically the whole spaceship, now the crew had much more time to pay to themselves in general and everyone separately.

The crew members got to know each other about two months before the flight. The coordinator had a good imagination and liked extraordinary methods and solutions of a great number of problems and tasks that constantly arise during many years of preparation for the start.

It was he who made a decision that the future “Martians” would be trained in quite different groups of cosmonauts. During standard and customary training in Zvezdny camp and other places, they never met and could not see each other, even at a glance.

It takes a long time to fly, so there will be time to get to know each other.

During six month of flight this desire increased or disappeared altogether. Sometimes they gathered together in one of compartments, discussing their cosmic affairs and duties, telling funny stories from the former life on Earth. Laughter and emotions filled the spaceship and there was an impression that the crew was much larger, that there were ten of them at least, not just four.

Mood changed and you felt like being alone for weeks. After a regular shift you went straight to bed, and it was like this for five days on end. When you got enough sleep for the whole month, you felt like devouring books. There were not many of them on board, of course, just about forty, but you could read them over and over again! In this case there was enough until Mars. No, there will be several left as you sometimes get bored with reading.

There were several personal computers, the very first models of them, and you could play “Tetris” or “Pacman”, but there was no desire to pass all 256 levels. Games usually finished on the fifth or sixth level at the most. Even though there is much more time in space than on Earth, there is just as less desire to waste it on these computer games.

And the best remedy against monotony and humdrum of the long flight is this same flight. There is always sufficient work on board a spaceship and you can never do it completely, but it must be done, and the more you work, the more changes the time: it almost disappears and becomes imperceptible.

When all that has been tried out and no longer helps, there is the last and probably the most important method – another person.

When Svetlana finished her usual duties in the biological compartment, she flew to look for Andrey – he has not been in sight for some time. Well, he is not in the central compartment, not in view of cameras in the corridors between compartments… can he be in the service compartment again, fiddling around with his beloved reactor?

Yes, he was exactly there. However, Andrey was sitting fastened at the working table and reading a thick book… but this was surely better than gloating the reactor.

Instead of saying hello, Svetka asked: Can you tell me how to get to the library?

Well… several million kilometers to Mars… and then it's not far to the Earth – there are libraries on every corner there. If you get lost, ask the first humanoid you meet and he is sure to show you something! – said Andrey, looking at Sveta over his book.

You yourself are a humanoid… And what’s that about – “show you something”? Are you again with your erotic fantasies and platitudes?

No fantasies, no platitudes… how shall I know what he may show you? Maybe he will show you where you get off, – laughed Andrey.

All right there, local wanton. What are you reading there?

I suddenly remembered of Kipling and decided to read him over again.

Are you in your second childhood – decided to read “Mowgli” again? – Sveta started to laugh.

No, it’s not about “Mowgli”… I read it probably when I was 6–7 years old. There was such a cartoon, too – probably the whole country remembers, I remembered the surname of Kipling… And I am ashamed to say that I thought he did not write anything else.

Later I found out that he was a military correspondent in Africa in the times of Anglo-Boer War, wrote articles, sketches and stories about India where he was born and lived, and once also wrote a lot of stories…

I read “Indian Stories”, too, – Sveta put in. They are well written, but there were few of them, I found them in some collection along with other authors.

Just the same – I read them in a collection, Andrey continued:

“English Poetry in Russian Translations, 20th century”, and you see, first there is an English variant, then a Russian translation, and there are even 2–3 variants of translation for the most interesting poems… The poems are stunning, but the main surprise is ahead… – So Kipling was a poet as well? – Yes, and a great one! I still remember some of his lines by heart:

Yes, this poem is really great… There are few words and it is even short, but very succinct, said Sveta sadly.

He has a lot of poems, but he received the Nobel Prize in 1907 for stories… and he refused to get it! You know, during his whole life he refused all kinds of titles, – remembered Andrey, now distracted from poems, – even the most prestigious one in England: Poet Laureate.

Yes, people were much more modest before… Remember? It seems that Pushkin wrote: What is glory? – A patch on the poet’s sackcloth, said Sveta thoughtfully.