Реклама. ООО «ЛитРес», ИНН: 7719571260.
Stench. The cold and the stench. The dirt, the cold and the stench. The dirt, the cold, the stench, the powdering snow and all-consuming fog. In the milky-white fog, the nightlife is in full swing. Footsteps are heard. The creak of wheels. The clatter of hooves. The dogs’ barking. The striking of a city clock. The echoes of speeches full of abuse and idleness. The very bottom of the metropolis. A foul place.
The streets of the city are filled with assorted emigrants who fled from their homes in search of a better fate. Things are bad enough for them here, and one can hardly imagine that life is much worse anywhere else. But that’s the way it is. And it has always been so. Now, these people are forced to settle on each other’s heads. Only a few of them have some kind of job, and even they earn a pittance. Extreme poverty plunges them all into the abyss of vice.
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The man in the cylinder is walking by. It’s none of his business. Theoretically, he feels sorry for the victim; he despises the indifferent mob and reflects on the quality of modern roads and stagecoaches with a certain degree of irony since they apparently leave a lot to be desired. However – he is busy and in a hurry. Right now, he has more important business and more exciting things to do. A serious meeting was scheduled after all, and he is already late and has to pick up his pace.
Someone else is already helping, and he can’t do more, so – he will not interfere and waste his precious time.
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