"Only why are they so dirty?" Alexander Semyonovich mused thoughtfully. "Keep an eye on things, Manya.
Tell them to go on unloading. I'm going off to make a phone call."
And Alexander Semyonovich went to use the telephone in the farm office across the yard.
That evening the phone rang in the laboratory at the Zoological Institute.
Professor Persikov tousled his hair and went to answer it.
"Yes?" he asked.
"There's a call for you from the provinces," a female voice hissed quietly down the receiver.
"Well, put it through then," said Persikov disdainfully into the black mouthpiece.
After a bit of crackling a far-off male voice asked anxiously in his ear:
"Should the eggs be washed. Professor?"
"What's that?
What?
What did you say?" snapped Persikov irritably. "Where are you speaking from?"
"Nikolskoye, Smolensk Province," the receiver replied.
"Don't understand.
Never heard of it.
Who's that speaking?"
"Feight," the receiver said sternly.
"What Feight?
Ah, yes. It's you. What did you want to know?"
"Whether to wash them. They've sent a batch of chicken eggs from abroad..."
"Well?"
"But they're all mucky..."
"You must be wrong. How can they be 'mucky', as you put it?
Well, of course, maybe a few, er, droppings got stuck to them, or something of the sort."
"So what about washing them?"
"No need at all, of course. Why, are you putting the eggs into the chambers already?"
"Yes, I am," the receiver replied.
"Hm," Persikov grunted.
"So long," the receiver clattered and fell silent.
"So long," Persikov repeated distastefully to Decent Ivanov. "How do you like that character, Pyotr Stepanovich?" Ivanov laughed.
"So it was him, was it?
I can imagine what he'll concoct out of those eggs."
"Ye-e-es," Persikov began maliciously. "Just think, Pyotr Stepanovich. Well, of course, it's highly possible that the ray will have the same effect on the deuteroplasma of a chicken egg as on the plasma of amphibians.
It is also highly possible that he will hatch out chickens. But neither you nor I can say precisely what sort of chickens they will be. They may be of no earthly use to anyone.
They may die after a day or two.
Or they may be inedible.
And can I even guarantee that they'll be able to stand up.
Perhaps they'll have brittle bones." Persikov got excited, waved his hand and crooked his fingers.
"Quite so," Ivanov agreed.
"Can you guarantee, Pyotr Stepanovich, that they will be able to reproduce?
Perhaps that character will hatch out sterile chickens.
He'll make them as big as a dog, and they won't have any chicks until kingdom come."
"Precisely," Ivanov agreed.
"And such nonchalance," Persikov was working himself into a fury. "Such perkiness!
And kindly note that I was asked to instruct that scoundrel." Persikov pointed to the warrant delivered by Feight (which was lying on the experimental table). "But how am I to instruct that ignoramus when I myself can say nothing about the question?"
"Couldn't you have refused?" asked Ivanov.
Persikov turned purple, snatched up the warrant and showed it to Ivanov who read it and gave an ironic smile.
"Yes, I see," he said significantly.
"And kindly note also that I've been expecting my shipment for two months, and there's still no sign of it.