Roadside Picnic by Boris Strugatsky, Arkady Strugatsky Page B

counter and yawned, genteelly covering her painted mouth with her hand. It was twenty to nine.
    Redrick saw Richard Noonan leave the hotel, chewing something, and arranging his soft hat on his head. He boldly strode down the steps – short, plump, and pink, still lucky, well-off, freshly washed, and confident that the day would bring him no unpleasantness. He waved to someone, flung his raincoat over his right shoulder, and walked over to his Peugeot. Dick’s Peugeot was also plump, short, freshly washed, and seemingly confident that no unpleasantness threatened it.
    Covering his face with his hand, Redrick watched Noonan bustle, get comfortable in the front seat, move something from the front seat to the back, bend down to pick something up, and adjust the rearview mirror. The Peugeot expelled a puff of blue smoke, beeped at an African in a burnoose, and jauntily drove out into the street. It looked like Noonan was headed for the institute, in which case he had to go around the fountain and drive past the cafe. It was too late to get up and leave, so Redrick covered his face completely and hunched over his cup. It didn’t help. The Peugeot beeped in his ear, the brakes squealed, and Noonan’s hearty voice called:
    “Hey! Schuhart! Red!”
    Redrick swore under his breath and looked up. Noonan was walking toward him, hand outstretched. Noonan was beaming.
    “What are you doing here at the crack of dawn?” he asked as he approached. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said to the waitress. “Nothing for me. I haven’t seen you in a hundred years. Where’ve you been? What are you up to?”
    “Nothing special,” Redrick said unwillingly. “Just unimportant things.”
    He watched Noonan bustle and establish himself in the chair opposite and move the glass with the napkins in one direction with his plump hands and the plate with sandwiches in another. And he listened to Noonan gab.
    “You look kind of peaked. Not sleeping enough? You know, lately, I’ve been very busy with this new automation stuff, but I never miss my sleep, that’s for sure. The automation can go hang.” He suddenly looked around. “I’m sorry, maybe you’re expecting someone. Have I interrupted? Am I in the way?”
    “No, no,” Redrick said lamely. “I just had some time and thought I’d have a cup of coffee, that’s all.”
    “Well, I won’t keep you long,” Dick said, looking at his watch. “Listen, Red, why don’t you drop your unimportant things and come back to the institute. You know they’ll take you back whenever you want. You want to work with another Russian? There’s a new one.” Red shook his head.
    “Nope, a second Kirill hasn’t been born. Anyway, there’s nothing for me to do in your institute. It’s all automated now, you have robots going into the Zone and that means that the robots get all the bonuses. The lab assistants are paid peanuts. It wouldn’t even keep me in cigarettes.”
    “All that could be arranged.”
    “I don’t like having things arranged for me,” Redrick said. “I’ve taken care of myself all my life, and I intend to keep on doing it.”
    “You’ve become very proud,” Noonan said with condemnation.
    “No, I’m not. I just don’t like pinching pennies.”
    “I guess you’re right,” Noonan said distractedly. He looked at Redrick’s briefcase on the chair next to him and rubbed the silver plate with the engraved Cyrillic letters. “You’re right, a man needs money so that he doesn’t have to always be counting it. A present from Kirill?” he asked, nodding at the briefcase.
    “I inherited it. How come I never see you at the Borscht anymore?”
    “You’re the one who’s never there,” Noonan countered. “I have lunch there almost every day. At the Métropole they charge an arm and a leg for a hamburger. Listen,” he said suddenly, “how’s your money situation now?”
    “Want a loan?”
    “Just the opposite.”
    “You want to lend me money?”
    “I have