«If only nothing bursts in the couplings,» Pyotr Yevseyevich whispered, grinding his teeth between the itching gums. «And if only there is enough fire, it has to burn the water! Let it be patient, it's not far until the end now…»

The locomotive slithered up slope with screeching rims but did not give in to the cars that stuck to the rails. Suddenly the locomotive started giving out frequent and worried honking, asking for the way through. Apparently the semaphore was closed and the engine-driver was afraid that he would not be able to start the train up the slope after a stop.

«Oh my God, and what is going on!» Pyotr Yevseyevich exclaimed and, smitten with sorrow, energetically set out to the station in order to examine the accident.

The locomotive gave three whistles, meaning stop, while Pyotr Yevseyevich found a total calmness reign at the station. He sat down in the third class waiting hall and began to torment himself: «Where is the State?» he thought. «Where can its automatic order be found?»

«Shchepotko!» the agent on duty shouted to the train marshall. «Let the fifty-first through to the eighth. Make a remark to the mechanic and to the head that we are full with transit. Did you dispose of the tanks there?»

«Yes, sir!» answered Shchepotko. «Do not accept any more, I have no place to put it. We need to finish with the fifty-first.»

«Now it's quite understandable,» Pyotr Yevseyevich calmed down. «The State is here because the concern is here. We only need to tell the population to exist quieter, or else the machines would burst under its demands.»

With a satisfied distress, Pyotr Yevseyevich left the railroad juncture to visit a nearby village named Koz'ma.