—My name is Marat. I am an electronics engineer. Not the red-haired robot who sang about winged swings with his white twin, but who worked on electronics, wiring, cables and other high-tech stuffing of interplanetary aircraft. - Too clever. Again. “My name is Marat, but none of the aliens in the near sector of the Orion Arm are able to pronounce this fucking dull “T.” Only earthlings have such a developed speech apparatus that they have invented languages. It has exceeded three thousand, enough for the entire intelligent cosmos. There is not enough evil. - No swearing. Again. - My name is Marat. The Proxians suggested calling her Marey, which sounded like a mermaid in the Moscow Zoo. The Jupiterians simplified it to Myrmyr (where only his parents dug him up. They said some famous guy from the picture in a cast-iron bathtub). The Alfians almost crossed over to Mrykha. So Mara is still fine. Hello everyone, I’m Mara from Syktyvkar. - Now the purpose of your monologue is unclear. More expression. Again. — I’m Mara from Syktyvkar. Help! I was kidnapped!