The next

The third whistle... I enter into factory gate, I pass by a control box and I go on a huge factory court yard in "first" as our foundry was numbered. The asphalt path runs and is twisted round ledges and walls of enormous buildings where - I hear - powerful pulse of obedient cars has already started to fight equal rate. Into a workshop I enter almost joyful, - after all now it will revive, will begin to tremble, will ring out - and game see you in the evening will go... I Greet fellow workers and I take seat on an iron plate of a floor and descent to vagrannoj furnaces. We light - differently it is impossible - before job and after it, before leaving, it becomes always and all. The hand almost automatically twirls a paper; slowly we share tobacco... We Fall asleep in the furnace metal. We start up electromotors, we open oil. And - the sun behind high windows dies away, all is forgotten... Clubs of flavovirent fumes are torn by whirlwinds from furnaces from plavjashchegosja metal. Gas climbs in eyes, the mouth tastes bitter, weighs soul. . Shudder high podpotolochnye beams, floors and walls dance, the flame under a mad pressure of streams of an oil dust and air roars... The engine Inevitably and derisively hoots; infinite belts artfully click... Something whistles and laughs; something locked, strong, brutally ruthless wants will - both will not be pulled out, and howls, and squeals, and furiously fights, and vihritsja in loneliness and infinite rage... Both asks, and threatens, and again shakes with not getting tired muscles intricate knots of a stone, iron and copper... Hot pulses of amicable cars Fight; flashing seams, snakes - belts are twisted.
-- Iljush, and Iljush! You slazil, have looked, that there for a piece such. namednis you as dexterously pump pronorovil... - Address to me. Before the descent of already ready metal in tigli has unexpectedly stopped the motor, and monotonously hooting furnace has ceased, the heated walls have darkened. I sometimes corrected small breakages in cars, avoiding that necessities to call the adjuster. So it was one week ago with the pump submitting air. I at first wished to refuse, but, encouraged, took a box with the tool and have got on a ladder to the electric motor suspended to a wall. Malfunction was trifling, and I have quickly found out it. From below have given a current
-- And the dead motor has revived, has raised a howl and has begun to clap privodnym a belt. And again the flame stream on the metal spread in furnaces has poured down. Behind the ringing beaten glasses of windows the midday sun washed the earth, and for a second at me heart was painfully compressed and passionately it wanted in the field - to birds, the colours, a rustling grass; in the field - where I when was without job, wandered, being buried in verdure, reaching for the sky, by a life, to the spring not strong sun, to those running free vagabonds-clouds... Liquid metal Flows, sniffing and hissing, blinding intolerably, the sun are brighter. Cautiously and attentively there are we round a filled fireproof pot. Then at once we suffice together for long rods and run we bear sparkling moulding in the next workshop where we pour out metal in the prepared forms. When we will empty all furnace, again we fill with its pigs of clumsy bubbly copper and we wait, smoking and regulating oil. Nearby our furnace three - Ignat, the old worker who has almost gone blind from shine of moulding, with constantly suppurating eyes poured by blood, and two us, beginners, I and Vanja, only recently arrived on factory worked. We worked cheerfully, and day flew by imperceptibly. Half-naked, we laughed loudly and had a shower bath water, told, thought - and listened never-ending, deaf, connected has begun with the end a song of cars...
-- And, tell you to me on favour, what is it fire not zalazhivaetsja: sneezes - and shabash!... - Ignat, we "starshoj", was dissatisfied and grumbled. After a dinner, in the furnace, really, something became frequent pofyrkivat and clubs of a smelly smoke were more dense, than ordinary.
-- Well-well, the stinker, well-well, the bungler, lines, talk at me, talk! - Ignat tightened oil and encouraged a sniffing flame. In the furnace the whole explosions and strange popleskivanie were already distributed; metal heated up badly. Something was not got on. I have approached, not knowing what for, to the motor, have looked at a measuring instrument of number of turns and have listened. The car worked wonderfully. Having turned back to leave, I for an instant have seen the white fiery scourge which has rushed highly from sew furnaces. Deaf blow has crashed and has repeated time four under the arches of a roof of a workshop, waving upwards whistling strips of fire and hard lowering them around... I stood at the motor, steps to ten from the furnace and saw, how was threw somewhere Vanja as has sat down, having clasped a head, Ignat... Instinctively I have seized the handle and have interrupted a current. The motor, having turned is a little by inertia, has stopped. The fallen scourges of the heated metal dispersed on radiuses from the furnace and more hissed, being slowly cooled, letting out the terrible force. As the reptiles winning and free, they it is impudent and were defiantly stretched on iron to a floor in imperious bends, leaving on a black far ceiling and beams whitish reflected lights - the reflexions. In horror people have crowded. Strange, unusual silence was rolled on factory from a workshop in a workshop. Somewhere away cars gradually pulsed.
-- Have ruined, damned, - someone from crowd of workers, - ah, torturers accursed sighed... It, damned, denga road so they zamesto want some oil that water burnt. Have filled with waters a tank - and it is fine.... I have guessed about all. Water, having got with oil in the furnace on liquid moulding, has turned instantly to steam which has broken off the furnace and has thrown out the fused metal... Vanja laid on a floor downwards the person, moved feet and hands and gnawed teeth iron patterns. The white scourge has got on his back and is fast - more likely, than on a floor
-- Has cooled down on it. Back Vani was similar to slag that throw out from fire chambers of steam coppers. Workers stood silently; behind windows has darkened. Spasms in fingers of hand Vani quickly faded; feet have rested motionlessly socks against a floor, having exposed the charred heels. Old Ignat was beside and cried, wiping unseeing eyes rags with which it has wound the welded hands. In half an hour all cars have been started up, furnaces are filled. Obedient motors, howling, gave the force. The belts connected in the ends with the beginning, zmejas and clicking, ran, ran... The Inclined afternoon sun has indifferently rested beams against heavy bent ridges of trembling cars.