Chapter 2

I need to make another little digression here to explain how I, an engineer for barely a week, ended up in this brand-new building belonging to GBG-Project (Garant Business Group Project)—tall, beautiful, and indecently modern. It had a central elevator like the ones in Hollywood movies, a revolving door, a cafeteria, a gym for employees, access badges, and security at the entrance.

Good Lord, were there really happy people in this world who didn’t carry thermoses to work?! Turns out there were!

So, when I came back from the village with my Berries a year ago, I knew one thing for sure: I needed a job. Time had passed, the kids had grown, and it was time for me to get back on my own two feet. I’d done pretty well in school, I’d always been quick-witted, and although my desire to make something of myself had quieted down for a while, it had never really left me.

But getting back on those two feet and finding a job turned out to be anything but easy. Despite all the job openings and offers out there, nobody was eager to hire an inexperienced employee with two little kids. And the prospects at the employment center sounded so bleak that, honestly, I wanted to go back to the village, climb into the garden, and pelt those prospects with cow pies.

I might have spent a long, dreary time pounding on doors and eyeing the central market—because what else could I do? If I couldn’t find work in my field, I’d sell oranges! I wouldn’t be the first, and I wouldn’t be the last!—if Nikolai Ivanovich, my mother’s new husband, hadn’t helped me find a job.

Nikolai Ivanovich is actually a good man. He’ll never replace my father, of course, but he treats my mother well, he’s good to the kids, and he never sits around twiddling his thumbs—he’s been an auto mechanic for thirty years. Over the past year, Mom had blossomed with him, as if she’d found a second youth! What more could I ask for?

Grandma watched them go on dates and waved a hand. “Let the overripe lovebirds fuss around! At least you, Marusya, get your freedom.”

And me? I was all for it: let them.

My field isn’t simple, but it’s interesting: “Hydraulic Machines, Hydraulic Drives, and Pneumatic Automation.” I’m a hydraulic engineer. Our city had a highly respected university in that field, and the companies themselves were major names known across the country, with “gas” and “oil” built right into their names. I don’t know what I was thinking when I applied to that university, but most likely I was thinking with my lovesick brain, because getting through it wasn’t easy. The curriculum was dominated by technical subjects, and mostly guys enrolled in the program.

Anyway, back to the story. My stepfather pulled strings and got me an engineering job at a small private outfit called SNiPTechPromGaz. Why “Gaz”? After a year of working there, I still couldn’t figure it out, and I never once saw the CEO’s face. But the company name sounded respectable—which was more than you could say for the salary and bonuses—and my employment record book finally got its first proud entry: officially employed.

Our department had eight people and was housed in an old office. Officially, we prepared design and operating documents for private individuals—at least, that’s what we told the tax office—but in reality, we tracked bids in the specialized-equipment market. We dug up information about contracts, bidders, competitors, and terms. You could say that under the cover of an unremarkable office, we were engaged in covert professional espionage, then leaking the information to competitors.

No, of course it wasn’t us—the employees—who leaked the information. It was that same CEO whose face none of us had ever seen. But we were all adults, and we understood perfectly well. Besides, if it wasn’t to make money off our competitors, then what on earth was all this for?

But as they say, every clever schemer eventually meets someone cleverer. And every back has its own willow switch. Justice finally reached SNiPTechPromGaz and closed its final valve—the inlet and the outlet. Eventually, the day came when we showed up for work and our lead engineer, Zhanna Arnoldovna Devyatko, a serious, methodical woman, gathered the whole department and announced in her best solemn newsreader voice:

“Girls, I have to disappoint all of you! They’re shutting us down and folding us in!”

“And the boys?” asked Yurka Shlyapkin, the only man in the group, a twenty-eight-year-old bachelor. “Excuse me—where does that leave me?”

Zhannochka sighed and added in her usual voice:

“The boys too. You can go through Human Resources—or, if you prefer, resign and head out the door. I just found out that, starting December first, our organization is officially merging with GBG-Project.”

What?! Now that was news!

At those last words, we all froze like hungry mice when a cat appeared with a chunk of cheese in its mouth. We should run, but we still didn’t know who would eat whom—we were all hungry! No, obviously this was business as usual: a small company had been swallowed by a bigger fish. But holy green parsley! That fish turned out to be toothy and stuffed with red caviar. What the hell did it need us for?

GBG-Project—no joke! They invited engineers from abroad to work for them! All the best bids, all the best projects from the past five years—they were all theirs! Who would know better than us? Getting hired there was practically impossible! And now they’d swallowed our company, so where did that leave us? The unemployment office?!

“Are there any other options besides resigning?” Yurka coughed nervously into his fist and protested. “What the hell is this, anyway? Why are they laying off the staff? We’re all qualified engineers here; we didn’t come here just to smoke. And people have holidays coming up! The holiday party, the sauna, New Year’s. I have an operating contract in the works, and the client has already paid the advance! No, I’m not going to just disappear. Let them take the staff too—what’s it to them? Eight miserable people! I heard the pay there is—…a few hundred in hard currency! If necessary, I’m even willing to work as a courier.”

At that point, everyone’s eyes lit up—some with envy, others with tears. I thought about the cash in my wallet and wilted completely. So what, did I have to look for another job again?! The market and its oranges rose before my eyes.

Zhanna Arnoldovna bit her lip, adjusted her hair, fiddled with her purse, and then lit a cigarette right there on the spot. She took a deep, satisfying drag and blew the smoke out through her nostrils.

Yurka lit up too. So did the girls. I looked at them… and, in my despair, grabbed an apple and started gnawing.

“Guys, I respect every one of you. You’re all good people, so I won’t hide it,” Devyatko admitted. “There is a chance of getting a job at GBG-Project after all, but it’s a small one!”

“Meaning?” Yurka tensed.

“I spoke with their boss. They’re not opposed to hiring our engineers, but…”

“But?” we breathed in unison.

“They’ll take three. And only into the new department! The company is extremely demanding about who joins its staff, so we’re in for a serious audition to prove our professional competence!”