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The ground in the sky was studded with the buildings of a city very similar to the city around her, except she was now looking “down”—or “up”—at it. This must have been the “other side” Cao Bin referred to. Cheng Xin realized that the rising “mountainside” in the distance wasn’t a mountain at all, but continued to rise until it connected with the “sky.” The world was a giant cylinder, and she was standing on the inside of it.

“This is Space City Asia I, in the shadow of Jupiter,” Cao Bin said.

The new world that had seemed so common a moment ago now stunned her. Cheng Xin felt that she had finally, truly awakened.

—————

In the afternoon, Cao Bin brought Cheng Xin on a trip to the gateway terminal at the northern end of the city.

By custom, the central axis of the space city was treated as oriented north-south. They got on a bus outside the hibernation center—this was a real bus that moved along the ground; probably running on electricity, but it looked indistinguishable from an ancient city bus. The bus was crowded, and Cheng Xin and Cao Bin took the last two seats at the back so that additional passengers had to stand. Cheng Xin thought back to the last time she had taken a bus—even during the Common Era, she had long ceased riding crowded public transportation.

The bus moved slowly, so she could take in the view leisurely. Everything now held a new meaning for her. She saw swaths of buildings sweep past the window, interspersed with green parks and pools; she saw two schools with exercise yards painted in blue; she saw brown soil covering the ground on the sides of the road, looking no different from soil on Earth. Broad-leafed trees resembling Chinese parasol trees lined the road, and advertising billboards appeared from time to time—Cheng Xin didn’t recognize most of the products or brands, but the style of the ads was familiar.

The main difference from a Common Era city was that the entire world seemed to be constructed out of metal. The buildings were metallic, and the inside of the bus seemed to be mostly metal as well. She saw no plastic, and no composites either.

Cheng Xin paid the most attention to the other passengers on the bus. Across the aisle sat two men, one of whom dozed with a black briefcase on his lap, while the other wore yellow work overalls with black oil stains. Next to the man’s feet was a tool bag, and some instrument Cheng Xin did not recognize poked out of it: It resembled an ancient power drill, but was translucent. The man’s face showed the exhaustion and numbness of someone who performed physical labor. The last time Cheng Xin had seen such an expression was on the faces of migrant laborers in Common Era cities. In front of her sat a young couple. The man whispered something in the woman’s ear, and the woman giggled from time to time while spooning something pink out of a paper cup—ice cream, since Cheng Xin picked up the sweet fragrance of cream, no different from her memory of more than three centuries ago. Two middle-aged women stood in the aisle—they were of a type familiar to Cheng Xin: The drudgery of everyday life had ground away their glamour, and they no longer took care with their appearance or were fashionable. Women like that had disappeared during the Deterrence Era or the Broadcast Era. Back then, women always had smooth, delicate skin, and no matter how old they were, they looked beautiful and refined, appropriate for their age. Cheng Xin eavesdropped on their conversation:

“You got it wrong. The morning market and the evening market have similar prices. Don’t be lazy. Go to the wholesale market on the west side.”

“They don’t have enough, and they won’t sell at wholesale prices anyway.”

“You have to go later, after seven or so. The vegetable vendors will be gone, and they’ll sell at wholesale prices.”

She overheard snippets of other conversations in the bus as well.

“The city government is different from the atmospheric system, much more complicated. When you get there, pay attention to the office politics. Don’t get too close to anyone at first, but don’t hold yourself apart either.”…“It’s not right to charge separately for the heat; that should have been included in the electric bill.”…“If they had subbed for that fool earlier they wouldn’t have lost so badly.”…“Don’t be so disappointed. I’ve been here since the city was built, and how much do you think I make every year?”…“That fish is no longer fresh. Don’t even think about steaming it.”…“The other day, when they had to make an orbital adjustment, Park Four’s water spilled again and flooded a large area.”…“If she doesn’t like him, he should just give up. All that effort is just going to be wasted.”…“That can’t be authentic. I don’t even think it’s a high-quality imitation. Are you kidding me? At that price?”…

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Десятый век. Рождение Руси. Жестокий и удивительный мир. Мир, где слабый становится рабом, а сильный – жертвой сильнейшего. Мир, где главные дороги – речные и морские пути. За право контролировать их сражаются царства и империи. А еще – небольшие, но воинственные варяжские княжества, поставившие свои города на берегах рек, мимо которых не пройти ни к Дону, ни к Волге. И чтобы удержать свои земли, не дать врагам подмять под себя, разрушить, уничтожить, нужен был вождь, способный объединить и возглавить совсем юный союз варяжских князей и показать всем: хазарам, скандинавам, византийцам, печенегам: в мир пришла новая сила, с которую следует уважать. Великий князь Олег, прозванный Вещим стал этим вождем. Так началась Русь.Соратник великого полководца Святослава, советник первого из государей Руси Владимира, он прожил долгую и славную жизнь, но смерти нет для настоящего воина. И вот – новая жизнь, в которую Сергей Духарев входит не могучим и властным князь-воеводой, а бесправным и слабым мальчишкой без рода и родни. Зато он снова молод, а вокруг мир, в котором наверняка найдется место для славного воина, которым он несомненно станет… Если выживет.

Александр Владимирович Мазин , Андрей Иванович Самойлов , Василий Вялый , Всеволод Олегович Глуховцев , Катя Че

Фантастика / Научная Фантастика / Попаданцы / Фэнтези / Современная проза