Александр Александрович Чечитов
Asso
"You've got a good laboratory, old man," Matthew whistled, looking at the spacious room for experiments. "Probably, no more than you, testing workshops." Ridge shrugged his shoulders dispassionately in response. He was sitting a little hunched, half sideways to the guest, quickly unscrewing parts from the metal body of the robot. He was pleased with Matt's attention, but he didn't want to be distracted either.
Of course, you can't argue with that." Matt grinned. What are you working on, old man?
It is more correct to say what I would like to end. But shouldn't you do the opposite? Mat, interested, pulled a plastic chair towards him and sat down a meter away from Ridge. It is.
But I can't solve the crash problem in any way. And what is the question? Ridge tilted his head to the side and said, "I was sure I knew what I was doing. The development of previous models took much less time. They are effective and practical for a long period of time. I understand. We wasted millions while solving the fuel problem for the flight to Mars.
– No! Ridge's voice sounded strained. Then he stood up abruptly, straightening up like a branch freed from the piled snow. Ridge walked from one corner to the other for a while. Then he turned and walked quickly over to Matt. It's not about money at all, – said Ridge in a broken voice. Asso.
Is, five years of life, and hard work. It doesn't work at all. The thing is that the car is incredibly powerful! Day by day, I managed to pump information into it as well as improve the motor part. And it bore fruit. Not exactly what I might have expected, of course. Stop tormenting me, Matt smiled.
