About the book: year / A strong man with dark burgundy hair, slightly touched with gray at the temples, monotonously fingered time-worn pieces of paper. He had long known the text of the letter by heart, but still from time to time he took out a yellowed envelope from his notebook, pulled out the densely written sheets and spent a long time, fascinated, reading the familiar phrases. This time the man was nervous - his long fingers were trembling barely noticeably, and he impatiently tapped the toe of his shoe. “My time has come,” he muttered with anticipation, looking through the transparent wall at the central well of the night City. - Finally…