“...Something immediately seemed strange to me about him. Not even that strange - somehow painful. His face was pale, as if it had been sprinkled with powdered sugar, and there was fear in his large brown eyes. He smiled weakly at Marina, took a few steps along the podium, bent forward as if he had been kicked in the stomach, then straightened up, but not completely, but as if he was carrying a heavy metal rail on his shoulders, and fell to his knees. I felt great you can see through the lens how a grimace of horror and pain distorted his face, saliva appeared from his mouth, turning into foam, and he fell on his side, convulsively bending his legs and arms, like a broken puppet. At this point, one might say, his torment ended; he somehow crawled to the edge of the demonstration track, turned over on his back, hanging his head down, and, twitching in convulsions, fell silent. His face, with flakes of foam around his mouth and terribly bulging eyes, looked straight into the lens. A treacherous chill ran down my spine. Deathly silence hung in the hall, the music flowing from the speakers stopped. “Doctor!” - someone shouted..."