- If we come across an interesting store in the future, let's stop by on the way back, - suggested Zavirdyaev to his fellow travelers when the group was already walking down the street. Everyone agreed. Meanwhile, there were more people on the street. Suddenly, a rapidly increasing roar was heard - a pair of fighter-attack aircraft were flying right over the avenue, with three smoke trails behind them - black, yellow and white.
As far as Zavirdyaev knew, these old Su-35s began to be used as attack aircraft much later than they were developed and accepted into service as fighters - half a century later, if not more.
If there were no no-fly zone, the right-bankers could have flown at least a dozen of their aircraft, albeit more modest, over the city. These belonged to the RF Armed Forces, the army of Greater Russia, and indirectly to the Bloc's forces. Somehow, "Kom.batt" managed to negotiate with the local garrison to send the machines on a flyover along a modified route, and with smoke generators hanging on them.
They said that the flyover would take place in the middle of the celebration or at the end. However, they could have flown by here more than once. At the same time, the right-bankers could have eaten the KANARians, who would undoubtedly notice this air show directly, and then they would also see the analysis and impressions on the RBSF TV channels, that is, the SFS, which they certainly watched from time to time.
Landskricht disappeared somewhere, then appeared with a glass of coffee. The rest were a disciplined group. Like Zavirdyaev, Landskricht had been in the South Siberia SuperFederant since 2115, so she felt quite relaxed.
Finally, the square appeared. There was a stand on the square, installed along the avenue. Behind the stand stood a huge American-style bus with a protruding hood and characteristic outlines of the cabin. Another one, with the logo of a local TV company on its side, was parked in the depths of the park.
The same thing had happened on previous holidays. In addition to film crews, the TV bus also carried artists. Another one, parked near the podium, was the organizers' mobile headquarters.
Leaving his escorts, Zavirdyaev headed for the open front door of the headquarters bus and dove into the semi-darkness of the cabin, the windows of which were mostly curtained.
It was smoky inside, and in addition to the ordinary tobacco, another smell was clearly mixed in. Several laptop screens were shining. A table attached to the wall of the cabin was visible in the distance, covered with either food or snacks for the drinks that were standing there. About a dozen people in the cabin were sitting, some on the couch, some in front of monitors, and some were completely lost somewhere in the tail, in a smoky haze. - Hello, I am Andrey Zavirdyaev, a representative of the CSCE commission. Who should I see? - Zavirdyaev said loudly.
- That's right, to us, - a lively voice came from the semi-darkness. - It's good that you came so early.
From the tail, a fat, completely bald man, familiar to him from previous events, was moving towards Zavirdyaev, dressed like Zavirdyaev in official civilian clothes, but with a claim to chic and originality - he was wearing a burgundy jacket, a scarlet tie and a black hat pushed back on his head.
- Are there a few more people with you? - asked this impresario, shaking Zavirdyaev's hand.
- Yes, three more.
- Let them pass, where are they?
- They don't mind seeing the park. The atmosphere is festive and all that.
- No problem. The meeting is at five to one. Wait a minute, - Burgundy Jacket turned sharply and moved towards a metal cabinet fixed not far from the table, after which he returned holding a bunch of badge cards on ribbons. There were clearly more badges than necessary.
Having thrown Zavirdyaev "Common let's go" in English for some reason, Burgundy, who had rushed past and had obviously switched from Russian to English ahead of time, squeezed his ass through the exit and found himself in front of the SBS officers standing near the bus, to whom, after energetic greetings, he began to hand out his cards.
The Englishman began talking about his package, which he was holding out in front of him - the purchase had to be placed somewhere during the ceremonial standing on the podium.
- I, in my insufficient... in my frivolity, thought that you had brought a gift, - Burgundy said, deliberately laughing in a friendly manner, looking at each of them in turn. - Leave your Zhirinovsky on the bus. If you forget, we'll get it to you later. And if we lose it, - he was now addressing Landskricht. - We'll find you another one exactly like it, - and he laughed even harder.
- Do you have a lot of them? - she laughed in response.
- Madam, we have a lot of everything.
Zavirdyaev took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth, but was in no hurry to light it. Meanwhile, Burgundy calmed down faster than Zavirdyaev expected and announced:
- When "Kom.batt" moves out, when it's near the beginning of the avenue, I'll tell you, but before that you should already be there, that is, here. We'll go to the podium together, that is, at the same time as "Kom.batt", and don't forget your badges. It won't be so good without badges. It's better to put them on in advance, that is, now.
Pointing with both hands towards the park, where, as he now knew, everyone was going, Bordovy, having accepted the package with the statuette, turned around and disappeared into the bus.
Having seen off the impresario with their eyes, the group, led by Zavirdyaev, who had finally lit up, moved into the park towards a large awning with tables, in front of which a Jazz band was playing. It had to be admitted that after the appearance of the Superfederant, or rather a few years after the events of 2114-15, the ordinary dying industrial city had been transformed beyond recognition.
In terms of buildings and roads, everything remained the same, if you don't count one area in the east – all the "golden arrivals" were concentrated there.
The changes were significant in terms of inhabitants. Even now, at this celebration, when the audience present was eighty percent Russian, half of which were those once depressed locals, the city looked not just un-Siberian, but perhaps un-Russian either.
This was facilitated by the twenty percent of foreigners present and the appearance of adventurers who had come here from all over Russia.
Externally, the audience was different - in the summer, the natives, either because of their disdain for various rules, or because large charges did not explode here, very rarely carried anti-nuclear glasses with them, instead of which the men preferred caps with visors pulled down over their eyes - such, it seems, were adopted in the inter-Soviet army more than a century ago.
Women were often in hats. The warning system had a certain merit in this - in order to miss the alarm, at least while in a more or less crowded place, you had to try. In addition, as has already been said, there were no really serious flashes here since the very beginning of the war. So the locals were convinced that upon hearing the signal it would be enough to tilt their heads down a little and the visor would protect their eyes. So they basically did, although the characteristic "frivolity" was not cancelled by this. The thing was that flashes from anti-missile defense charges, those that were, for example, in the nuclear version of the widespread sys.520 model of which was in the store, were incomparably weaker than flashes from large charges. And who could know in advance whether one would ever arrive or not. We are not even talking about a strike on the city, but about electromagnetic Kom.batt with anti-missile defense or satellites. In contrast to the use of large charges, devices with gold and isotope shells have been increasingly used lately, destroying ballistic and orbital targets mainly with neutron fluxes rather than excess power. The flashes from these were even weaker. This relaxed them to some extent, and not only the locals.
The Russians who came here eventually picked up local habits, which still could not be said about foreigners - some wore glasses all the time, others always had them with them, like Landskricht, who seemed to have lenses. Europe got it badly in her time. The same Landskricht seemed to have come under attack. In such a mild case, which she once spoke about, coming under attack meant being in the outer strike zone and feeling the air wave, nothing more. One way or another, even after that, people usually took little things like anti-nuclear glasses more seriously. In winter, however, the issue of flashes changed - the white snow reflected the glow well and any hats, summer or winter, were useless, so the locals reluctantly took out and began to carry glasses with them. Why they could not do this all year round was anyone's guess. To Zavirdyaev, the locals often seemed irrational people.
In the rest of the world, contact lenses were already in use, although they had to be constantly charged.
Both the glasses and the lenses were made of a special glass or plastic, inside which were layers of semiconductors and liquid crystals. In a normal state, it was impenetrable black glass. A tiny current from a tiny watch battery or a transparent organic source made the material permeable. Excessive light flow negated the effect of the potential difference and the material turned black again. That's how it worked.
In addition to hats and glasses, people in the park also differed in their clothing. On normal days, it would be a question of everyday and more elegant weekend attire. Today was a different matter. Today, the streets were full of various activists and other representatives of the military and military-political communities.
For example, there were classic Russian paratroopers dressed in striped shirts and berets, who had been raising everyone's ears on their own holiday since time immemorial. Today they decided to finish the party.
There were Stalinists in their service jackets or tunics, belted with belts with buckles. Here and there, the aggressively black clothes of the Black Hundreds who had flocked to the SFS from all over the country flashed. And how did such parasites even live? However, there were more than enough options on what such people lived on.
Zavirdyaev lazily looked around the crowd, recalling what he had recently heard about the SFS from a program on an all-Russian channel.
When there were about five minutes left, and everyone was already getting ready to move to the podium and the bus, the area was filled with the roar of motors. Half a minute later, Zavirdyaev, like many others, noticed that something was moving over the avenue, partly visible from the park. As expected, it turned out to be an airmobile-jeep - a flat wide trough with four seats. Such a thing could easily move without violating the requirements for a no-fly zone - a flat-bottomed vehicle could fly in hover mode. True, in this case it was necessary to constantly steer like a car, going around obstacles and large uneven surfaces. These ones, however, rushed at full speed as if straight ahead, as they said in such cases, "on the fly".
They flew at the height of the roofs of houses, if not higher - the wires, including tram wires, did not allow them to move lower.