“The board to the Heliotrope orbital station was delayed for the second time. Now it’s four o’clock.” Venya spat in frustration and looked at the chronometer for probably the hundredth time today. “Well, what,” he thought sadly. - To the bar again? I'm already gurgling! Beer doesn’t work either!” Then Venya very inconsistently thought how quickly beer, and at the same time other alcoholic drinks, made him sick. About two years - just something! – flashed by like a moment. And here you go: instead of a cadet who was ready to drink anything that could burn at any second, there is also a green, but one can no longer say that he is a yellow-haired operator of orbital tracking systems and an analyst of the tarsial scanning group. And now the above-mentioned beer does not fit into the above-mentioned operator-analyst. True, beer is unlikely to burn..."