04/05/1992
Bragin approached the glazing once again. The granulation tower, one of two, offered a beautiful view of the city. The veranda was just right. If it weren't for the metal railings of the platform separating it from the wall of solid, three-story glazing, he wouldn't have dared to come so close - he was drunk.
Behind him, the fans hummed, driving water vapor into the pipes and then into the atmosphere. This was normal, not causing discomfort, but now it greatly interfered with listening to the news.
Bragin glanced toward the television center and reached for a cigarette. Previously, before all these events, you couldn't afford such a thing here.
- What are they saying about a strike? - he shouted back, toward the others sitting around the black-and-white TV, placed on a table made of boxes.
- Nothing new, - the answer sounded through the hum.
The television and transistor receiver were now the main thing that attracted the attention of that part of the shift that was here in the northern tower, still, despite everything, evaporating the products. Production was continuous, and it was not so easy to join the general cause, the total strike. An incorrectly conducted stoppage was fraught with such accidents that no one would have thought it was enough. But everything was put aside for the previous discipline and rules.
Since yesterday, there had been talk that wages would be tripled and would be paid at the end of each week. Obviously, this was an attempt to somehow calm the strike mood. Nevertheless, it would still be wooden. At the same time, many had already managed to roll out their lips for dollars, which they would pay with after the arrival of the Americans.
The television center was now broadcasting as many as five programs. Before that, there were four of them, but it would not be wrong to say that there were two and a half, because two of those four appeared on air only in the evening for a couple of hours and showed what was on the first and second channels during the day. At that time, everyone was usually watching the Mexican "Marianna", so the half-programs were completely unclaimed. Apparently, this was how the TV people put new equipment into operation, and these half-programs were just a kind of trial balloon. This work of theirs on putting into operation lasted for more than a year, but who would be surprised by that? Everything changed in one day. "Marianna" was definitely pushed into the background. The first of the half-programs-outsiders, the third, as it was also called, became known as Federal One. It changed its channel and began to work around the clock. Part of the daytime broadcast consisted of those same action films, cool action films, for watching which, not long ago, you had to go to video salons, which in some places still exist. The second part of the daytime broadcast consisted of American talk shows that had suddenly become so understandable. The translation, however, was exactly the same as in video stores, but it was nothing new.
But after nine in the evening, half past nine, to be more precise, something would begin: after a short news release, a "daily digest," as it was now correctly called, which was hosted by one of their own, a local, the real porn would begin. Just like that, without any video recorders or tapes. You turn on the TV at half past nine and watch. The porn, however, also did not go on all night long, but was interrupted by another talk show. This continued until six in the morning. Well, and then again the daytime repertoire.
The second new TV channel, that is, the fourth, was called "World of Disney." It could have been simply "Disney," but for some reason they decided to be more sophisticated. It wasn't hard to guess the content - cartoons all the way from black and white to this "Chip-e-dale". The children had to somehow share the TV with the adults, who, for obvious reasons, were very afraid of accidentally turning on Federal One in the evening. However, sharing the TV was made easier by the fact that the box could be given over to "Disney" during the daytime. There was now plenty of time. Even before the teachers were among the first to join the strike, many parents, like Bragin himself, decided that it would be much safer for the children to sit at home in the turmoil that was already growing from the first to the second day.
As for TV channels, the most serious was probably the fifth one – "Liberation Inter". It appeared, like the others, on the second day and by the evening of the same day announced a strike. Of the films, it showed mostly documentaries, about how the USA helped in the war, about the history of the USA, about history in general. The films were American, often still black and white, but with excellent translation, with excellent voices, unlike the video films. The rest of the time, which took up a little more than half, the same studio was on the screen, where different people came. New faces. New leaders of the forming resistance or strike. At some point, Bragin, still standing in front of the glass and going over in his memory the unkind statements of the central authorities, who began to react only on the third day, suddenly noticed two dots moving over the horizon in the northeast. A minute later, maybe a little more, it became clear that these were two helicopters. A minute later, when the machines were already flying over the central part of the city, it became clear that these were not just any helicopters, but combat "Twenty-Fours" with their characteristic silhouettes and slightly tucked-down wings.
In general, helicopters, both the nondescript Mi-4 and the quite combat-ready Mi-8, appeared in the sky over the city quite often. There were days when some helicopter would circle from morning to evening. They usually did this somewhere at a dizzying height, someone must have been learning. At the same time, low passes were not uncommon, especially a couple of years ago, when the Union existed. Even the "Twenty-Fours" were not something out of the ordinary.
In general, under normal circumstances, Bragin would not have paid attention. Well, maybe he would have raised his head if the clatter of blades had been somewhere very close. It was still interesting.
There was no time for idle interest now - General Grachev had already announced that the instigators of the demarche, as he called it all, would have a fascinating tour to the ocean coast. The ocean would be the Arctic Ocean, and they would have to run to get there naked, but it would be interesting and useful. That's what he said. When he offered Georgia his underwear as a flag, it was funny, but now not so much.
Helicopters! Military Mi-24s over the center! - Bragin finally shouted to the others, having come to his senses. Someone responded, making it clear that everyone could see everything anyway.
At some point, both machines emitted even rows of lights from their sides - these were deceptive targets designed to divert enemy missiles. Bragin, although he had not served, knew this, but a huge number of uninitiated people could easily mistake this for some kind of weapon. At the time of this fireworks, the helicopters had definitely gone to the east of the city center, perhaps already crossed a small stinking river, beyond which the new neighborhoods built during the Brezhnev era began.
- What are they doing! - Bragin said in a low voice.
Having fired their lights, the helicopters turned and went a little to the north. There they began to slow down, after which they made a sharp turn - before that, helicopters flying over the city had never performed such sharp maneuvers. Nothing even close to that. Once again over the center, the helicopters repeated their sharp maneuver, after which they described a couple of circles with a radius of several hundred meters.
- They are circling over the square! - someone shouted from behind, - They are intimidating!
Having circled over the central neighborhoods, the helicopters went in a straight line and soon began to shoot their lights again. - If they start shooting now, then all we can do is be glad that we are not there, not on the barricades, - flashed through Bragin's head, immediately slightly embarrassed by the blasphemy of his own thought.
The barricades began to be erected on the morning of the fourth day. According to the initiators, this was supposed to become a symbol of a new, now great strike, with the help of which it would be possible to put pressure on Moscow, which was clearly sabotaging the transition of the region to the status of a Federal Territory of the USA. Quite recently, in the last years of the Union, there had already been one strike here, which, judging by how it was now presented in the press, pushed the USSR to collapse. Although if you look into it, where is the strike, and where are the hot spots, which were already blazing on the map of the Union. One way or another, now the initiative group, as they called themselves, has chosen a strike, a total strike, as a trial instrument. And so, at the end of the fifth day, it had already reached the military helicopters, flying combat-style over the city streets. It was becoming scary. Both in a general sense, from the awareness of what was happening and the prospects of this very thing, and scary here and now, standing in the tower by the glass wall, which opened up an exhaustive view of the helicopters' atrocities.
- Someone swore expressively.
- I hope you crash! - Bragin thought in turn.
Then everything was like a nightmare. As if they sensed, heard that they were being treated so disrespectfully, both dark silhouettes, which were rushing somewhere to the south at that moment, most likely over the main railway line, suddenly turned and went in the direction of the observer. Towards Bragin. The distance was significant, about twenty minutes by car along relatively straight streets, but for helicopters it was a trifle - now there, and now here. They were not heading exactly for the tower, but in any case it was criminal recklessness on their part - without all these fears and comparisons with nightmares.
Not being initiated into the rules of flight, Bragin was convinced that low-flying, and even showing off, helicopters had absolutely no business over industrial areas dotted with high-rise structures. It was no pity to lose the helicopters, as well as some steel pipe located inside the supporting frame - the mast could be removed and replaced. The helicopter could simply be removed, loading the rest into a dump truck - in a moment Bragin imagined exactly this. The problem was that there was so much ammonia, chlorine and other similar raw materials, into the tanks and apparatus with which this pipe-mast or the helicopter itself could crash, that it would be enough to become as famous as Chernobyl.
Two degenerates, maybe not two, if there was more than one pilot in each helicopter, were heading straight for the industrial area. Definitely not to the tower, but to the thermal power plant, but even so, there was a lot on their course that should not be flown over.
When the helicopters had gone about half the way from the place where they turned, to Bragin's horror, and, one must assume, to the rest of the observers, they seemed to freeze and go slightly upward. This meant only one thing - they were now heading straight for the tower. Thoughts flashed through his head, stupefied with horror, like slides in an automatic projector overclocked to maximum. Perhaps the pilots' decision was not accidental - they were attracted by two skyscraper-like structures spewing the longest plume of white smoke. If you're a fool and just want to destroy everything and make everyone miserable, then the towers are just what you need. This was one of the thoughts of Bragin, who was trying to imagine the pilots' motivation.
The silhouettes, which continued to grow larger and move away from each other, stopped descending.
- A kilometer, no more, - Bragin noted to himself at some point, perfectly orienting himself in the distances between numerous landmarks, on which the helicopters could easily break off their blades.
Finally, the sound of these same blades began to break through the glass and the hum of the fans. Bragin, standing helplessly, imagined for a moment how a blue-green body with already broken blades flies into the interior. How metal ladders and ceilings crash and break. How sharp glass flies and cuts everyone around.
The helicopters were flying side by side. The one on Bragin's left was walking a little behind, the other was obviously in charge. Details of the glass cockpits were already becoming visible. The crazy heads of the pilots were also visible - white helmets and black goggles-light filters that covered half their faces.
- Just like in "Rambo"! Why there no John Rambo to hit your asses! - Bragin thought, already doomedly awaiting the next scene with the helicopter breaking through the turret and turning into a stub.
Suddenly, both machines fell over on their sides and rushed away from each other. The one that was just behind flew by so close that it seemed it was about to chop its rear propeller along the metal bridges that encircled the tower at the very top outside. The slaps from the main propeller blades cutting through the air reverberated through the glass and frames with a large tremor. The plume of white steam heading for the right bank apparently broke apart and sprayed out swirling shreds, the edge of which appeared in the upper corner of the window and immediately flew away, dissipating.
The pilots disappeared from view at the very beginning of the maneuver - the helicopters that banked passed by, turning on their bellies, but one had to think that those scoundrels were pleased with what they had done. But the only thing that would have been more dangerous for the whole city would have been if they had been playing with a half-disassembled, but ready to explode, nuclear bomb.
Bragin finally unclenched his hands, who knows when he had grabbed the railing, and turned to the others. They sat motionless.
- Are you alive? - Someone's voice sounded, Bragin didn't even notice whose.
- And if they come back? - Bragin muttered and stepped towards the stairs leading down.
- It's a common thing, - they know how to fly in such way, - a voice sounded behind him, - so where will you go?
Bragin wasn't going to explain anything and silently "slid" down. Immediately behind him, another booming, heavy metallic stomp was heard - he wasn't the only one.