Journey to another world in the subway

Chapter 70 Pride
Out of nowhere, two Hansa border guards appeared, removed the weapon from Su Mengfan, told him that he would not be in danger for the next year, and promised to return the weapon to him at the end of his sentence.

Afterwards, amidst whistles and laughter, they were taken to Line 5 of the Moscow Metro.

The passageway is under the floor in the center of the hall, like another station with the same name, but this is the only place where the two stations are the same.

The passage to the Moscow metro line 5 gives a strange impression:
The ceiling on one side is low and without any columns—the arches on the wall are of equal width, and each arch is as wide as the distance between each arch.

It seems that the former {Abdul Kader Station} is easier to build, because the soil there is softer, and all the construction workers have to do is to squeeze the soil tightly to create a space.

But here are rocks that are too hard to shake.

But I don't know why, but it doesn't feel depressing and sad like {Tverskaya Station}.

Maybe it's because there aren't that many lights here, and the walls are only decorated with simple patterns and some antique columns, with works like ancient Greek mythology painted on them.

All in all, it's not that bad a place for a labor force forced to come to work.

Obviously, this is Lufthansa's territory.

First of all, it's surprisingly clean, comfortable, and huge.

Glass-encased lamps cast a soft glow from the ceiling.

The hall is certainly not as empty as its twin station, not even a newsstand, but a large number of wonderfully designed workbenches piled up here.

Behind the workbench sits a man in blue overalls with a pleasant smile, and there is a slight smell of motor oil in the air.

The working hours here may be longer than {Abu Dul Kader Station}.

There was something hanging on the wall—a poster with a brown circle on a white background saying that a man named D. Smith was looking for staff.

Between the two stern soldiers on guard was a large flag, with a glass table beneath it.

Su Mengfan slowed down as he passed by, curious to know what sacred things would be placed under the glass.

There were two books on red velvet, illuminated by a small lamp shining light on the covers.

The first book was thick and well preserved, with a few gold letters written on the black cover: "Ada Smith's "Guo Fu Lun"".

The second book was a facsimile of a pocket book, very well flipped.The cover was mounted on a rag that had been torn out and pasted back on, and it was covered with dust.

"How to Stop Worrying and Start Living by Dale Carnegie" was written in bold on the rag cover.

Su Mengfan has never heard the names of these two authors.

So he was interested to see if the station chief had used part of this piece of velvet to decorate the cage of his beloved mouse.

There is a subway line that is not closed, and rail cars pass by from time to time. Most of them are hand-cranked and carry some small wooden boxes inside.

But there was also a motor rail car speeding up wrapped in a cloud of smoke, stopped at this station for 1 minute, and continued to move forward.

Su Mengfan thus had the opportunity to see strong soldiers sitting on the rail car, wearing black uniforms and black and white striped vests.

Each soldier wears night-vision equipment on his head, strange short automatic weapons on his chest, and is equipped with thick protective clothing.

The commander patted the large dark green helmet with visor on his knees, said a few words to the security personnel in the station wearing regular gray camouflage, and then the rail car started again, and disappeared into the tunnel after a while.

The second line is a complete train, even better than what Su Mengfan saw on the Kuznetsk Bridge.

Perhaps behind the curtained windows is the living area, but from the uncurtained windows, the printer can be seen sitting on a desk, a regular model from the back.

The words "CENTRAL OFFICE" (Central Office) were written on the door.

This station gave Su Mengfan an indescribable impression.

It didn't blow him away like the first {Abdul Kader Station}.

There's none of the mystical, darkly grandeur here that conjures up the superhuman greatness of those who built the subways before the now degenerate generation.

But the people living here seem not to belong to the bustling, decadent, ignorant and secretive world outside Moscow Metro Line 5.

Life goes on smoothly and orderly.

People rest with peace of mind after get off work, and young people don't spend time in a stupid world full of gossips, but start a business—the sooner you start a business, the bigger it will be.

Adults have no fear of going to the tunnel to feed the rats as soon as their strength begins to wane.

Now I can understand why Lufthansa only allows a small number of people to enter the station, and it seems so reluctant to enter the small number of people.

There are not many ways to enter heaven, only the gates of hell are open to all.

"Oh yeah! I'm finally moving outside too!" Marc exclaimed, looking delighted.

Su Mengfan didn't understand that the punishment of cleaning public toilets for a year would make Mark so happy.

At the end of the platform, another border guard sat in a glass cubicle marked "On Duty."

Next to it is a small bumper, painted with red and white stripes.

When someone approached and stopped respectfully, the soldier came out of the compartment with a cocky expression, checked the documents and sometimes the truck, made sure there was nothing wrong, and then raised the gear lever.

Su Mengfan noticed that all the border soldiers and customs officials were very proud of their jobs.

It's clear they're doing what they love to do.No drudgery like those inhabitants, no need to risk your life to find resources on the surface like stealth influence.

In other words, he thought, who wouldn't love a job like this?
They were taken to a fence where a road led to a tunnel.

Then turned to the side of the fence and came to a corridor leading to the staff quarters.

The deep pits dug out one by one were covered with dark yellow tiles, and there were real toilet seats, which were extremely dirty.

There were weird things growing on square-headed shovels, and wheelbarrows made wide ruts, filled with filth and wheeled away, onto the nearest drive shaft leading down to the depths.

All of this is surrounded by a strange stench, which penetrates into the clothes of the person, causing every hair of the person to emit this stench from the root to the end of the hair, and penetrates deep into the skin.

You can't help but start to think that this stench is part of you and will follow you forever.

Instead, his own smell was quietly squeezed away.

　My job has just stabilized, so I will reply to all the messages from readers one by one after get off work.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)