Early in the morning in one of the huts in the northern village of Sergievka, which was lost in the vast expanses of the Tarnogsky district of the Vologda region, the light came on. “Well, wherever you go,” their grandmother looked reproachfully at her grandchildren Andrei and Nikolai Anna continued in her melodious, cursing Vologda dialect, “Isho, the timid ones, would sleep, it’s so dark that you can’t even see the fence, but I’ll be timid, the robot is waiting for me, I’ll dress up a serok on the cattle.