At some point, Zavirdyaev admired the neat rows of residential buildings, three or four stories high. The war must have driven into a dark corner for many years the architectural impulse to build exclusively high-rises where necessary and where not. Between the buildings there were neat paths, like sidewalks. There were also equally neat rows of trees and bushes planted. The train sped noticeably above the sprawling industrial plain, then the railway line made a slight turn.
Then it suddenly and almost deafeningly dawned on Zavirdyaev where he had seen such a thing - this is how the buildings of the horrific concentration camp, one of the symbols of the unhappy twentieth century, looked in a black-and-white video. However, Zavirdyaev quickly rejected such an analogy - it would be stupid to see in any neat rows of houses built by the Germans a reference to a concentration camp, even if it was also German. Besides, the Germans were not in charge of everything at the enterprise - the vast majority of critical production was under the jurisdiction of the constellations. The residential town could well be considered an object of desire on the part of the workers - the apartments located behind the fortification belts were intended for the so-called internal personnel - they were obliged to live there all the time except for weekends. They lived with their families, if they had any. On non-working days, they could be anywhere. In normal circumstances, when there was no special state of emergency, they could also bring whoever they wanted - by all accounts, it was an ordinary settlement. The inhabitants usually rented out their old homes. This internal personnel was a kind of elite. However, at one time they had already come up with a half-forgotten and rather pretentious definition - labor aristocracy. Now they were called and called themselves internal personnel. Such "aristocrats" could forget about the issue of mobilization. At least while they were working. Here they were much more needed than at the front.
There was also external personnel - they were involved in various auxiliary processes and work, and in the event of a transition to the Doomsday State, they would most likely be replaced by some urgently brought in military contingent. In the event of the Doomsday State, organizing the delivery and passage of external personnel workers who were living in God knows where would be too much of a hassle, and inflating the workers' town to permanently cram everyone in there would be an irrational decision. So a solution was found that reminded Zavirdyaev of stories about the old Soviet army, where soldiers did everything that was possible and necessary. Now, Blok's soldiers would act in this role of jacks of all trades.
The industrial hub itself stretched to the horizon. In area, it exceeded not only the concrete "citadel" of the Superfederant, but also the area of the "Inter-Nitro" enterprises. Maybe even their combined size, at least, impressed Zavirdyaev.
Finally, the industrial monster was left somewhere behind and the alternating blocks and groves began again.
Then the train seemed to begin to slow down and it became clear why - the characteristic station buildings began to rush past. The tracks began to branch out, freight trains that had been waiting to depart began to run. Having passed some section of the track side by side with containers and tanks, the train soared somewhere higher and jumped over a bridge-overpass. After a couple of easy turns, a gray strip of the platform with a crowd of people appeared outside the window. The train went without stopping. Zavirdyaev managed to see that the crowd on the platform was mainly made up of the same soldiers.
Suddenly, a dull thud was heard somewhere nearby and the same white circle appeared on the neighboring glass as on the one opposite his, Zavirdyaev's, seat. You could also see streaks running down both windows - apparently, a bottle had been thrown at the train, most likely a beer one.
They had to hit it so hard! - thought Zavirdyaev, - They knocked out two neighboring ones! Were they aiming on purpose?
In general, at the speed of one hundred and twenty kilometers per hour, at which the train passed the platform, such "bottle throwing" could hardly have been so aimed, although who knows, maybe they were practicing throwing grenades? This is a reason to think about whether enterprises need concrete belts or if this is an excess. Of course, they were also guarded by soldiers, but soldiers are different.
Zavirdyaev turned his head and looked around the carriage, wanting to see the reaction of those on the train. The attack did not cause any noticeable excitement. Someone seemed to glance towards the platform, but by that time it, with its crowd trying to merge into a single spot, rushed back and was replaced by a sound-absorbing wall.