第一章：世界末日（6）
（彼得·安德烈维奇用刚煮开的热水冲泡着茶水，并将其分发给了火堆旁的伙伴们。这股来自茶水的温暖彻底打消了来自刚才异常状况的慌乱。）
阿尔乔姆接过一个白色搪瓷杯，里边儿盛满了他们车站特制的茶水，感觉一不小心就会满溢出杯口。当然，这并不是常人所理解的“茶”，只不过是用一些干蘑菇和添加剂泡制出来的混合液而已。真正的茶叶在当时已经是极其稀少的奢侈品。这些茶叶只会在重大节日限量供应，而且它价格要高出特制茶好几倍。然而，他们也不讨厌自己的“站内特制茶”，甚至引以为傲。最初本地的和外地人一样也不习惯这味道，喝几口就会吐掉，但很快他们就适应了。在那之后他们的特制茶在各大车站间风靡，甚至会有贩子冒着生命危险专程跑来排队购买，特制茶的名声很快传遍了整个地铁线，甚至引起了的关注，装有这魔法般特制茶的大型篷车开始运往。现金，贸易就此开始流动。武器、柴火、维生素等货物也跟着流通了起来。正所谓哪里有钱，哪里就有人，这便是生活。自从国民经济展览馆开始仿造特制茶开始，他们就开始日益富裕强大起来；站台周边的人纷纷沿着小路搬来这里，繁荣就此到来。在国经站，他们的肉猪也是备受欢迎的特产之一，传说整个地铁线中的猪肉正是源于这里：在这一切刚开始的时候，有几个胆大的家伙找到了通往展馆“猪棚”的路，并成功把它们赶进车站畜养了起来。
Artyom accepted a white, enamelled cup, in which some of their homemade station tea was splashing around. Of course, it wasn't really tea at all, but an infusion of dried mushrooms and other additives. Real tea was a rarity. They rationed it and drank it only at major holidays, and it fetched a price dozens of times higher than the price of the mushroom infusion. Nevertheless, they liked their own station brew and were even pround enough of it to call it 'tea'. It's true that strangers would spit it out at first, since they weren't used to its taste; but soon they got used to it. And the fame of their tea spread beyond the bounds of their station - even the traders came to get it, one by one, risking life and limb, and soon after their tea made it down the whole metro line - even the had started to become interested in it and great caravans of the magical infusion rolled towards . Cash started to flow. And wherever there was money, there were weapons, there was firewood and there were vitamins. And there was life. Ever since they started making the very same tea at VDNKh, the station had begun to grow strong; people from the nearby stations moved to the station and stretches of track were laid to the station; prosperity had come. They were also very proud of their pigs at VDNKh, and legend had it that it was precisely from this station that the pigs had entered the metro: back at the very beginning of things when certain daredevils had made their way to the 'pig-breeding pavilion' at the Exhibition and managed to herd the animals back down to the station.
“嘿，阿尔乔姆，苏霍伊最近混得怎样？” 安德烈轻轻吹着手中的蘑菇茶，抿了一口。
'Listen, Artyom - how are things going with ?' asked Andrey, drinking his tea with small, cautious sips and blowing on it carefully.
“和萨沙叔叔吗？一切顺利。他前阵子刚和我们站的人从轨道线回来。是一次考察项目。你应该知道的。”
'With Uncle ? Everything's fine. He came back a little while ago from a hike down the line with some of our people. An expedition. As you probably know.'
安德烈要比阿尔乔姆年长大约十五岁。简单地介绍一下，他是一名侦察兵，作为一名前哨指挥官，他很少待在这四百五十米处的哨站。上层已经将他派往三百米处值守，那儿将会有更强大的掩护，但是安德烈仍然有着向往更深处的冲动，他常常会捏造一些借口，一些莫须有的警报，借此能够更接近地铁深处的黑暗，他坚信那里会有他想看到的真相。安德烈深爱着这地铁站，对其每一个分支了然于胸，但偏偏在这站点中，混迹于农夫、工人、商人和管理层让他觉得浑身不自在——他感觉自己不受重视。他不愿意犁地种蘑菇，更不愿意站在屎尿能没过膝盖的农地，用蘑菇喂猪。而且他也不想从商，他天生就跟那些做买卖的八字不合。一直以来，他都是一名士兵，一名战士，他相信这才是一个男人发挥其真正价值的工作。安德烈很自豪能够穷极一生来保护那些浑身发臭的农夫，斤斤计较的商贩，对任何过错都公事公办的管理者，以及妇女孩童。女人们被他引以为傲的力量和自信所吸引，以及他对自己以及身边的人的平和心态（因为他总是能够将他们保护得很好）。女人们向他示爱，给予他应有的安慰，但是安德烈并不满足于待在属于他的灯火阑珊的十五米开外的小角落，他想出去闯荡。那些只想着安稳生活的女人才不会跟着他呢。
Andrey was about fifteen years older than Artyom. Generally speaking, he was a scout, and rarely stood at a watch nearer than the four hundred and fifteen metre, and then only as a cordon commander. And here they'd posted him at the three-hundredth metre, with good cover, but all the same, he felt the urge to head deeper, and made use of any pretext, any false alarm, to get closer to the darkness, closer to the secret. He loved the tunnel and knew its branches very well but, at the station, he felt uncomfortable among the farmers, the workers, the businessmen and the administration - he felt unneeded, perhaps. He couldn't bring himself to hoe the earth for mushrooms, or, even worse, stuff the fat pigs at the station's farms with mushrooms, standing up to his knees in manure. And he couldn't be a trade either - he'd been unable to stand traders from the day he was born. He had always been a soldier, a warrior, and he believed with all his soul that this was the only occupation worthy of a man. He was proud that he had done nothing his entire life but defend the stinking farmers, the fussy traders, the administrators who were business-like to a fault, and the women and children. Women were attracked to his arrogant strength, to his total confidence in himself, to his sense of calm in relation to himself and those around him (because he was always capable of defending them). Women promised him love, they promised him comfort, but he could not feel comfortable beyond the fifteen metre, beyond the turning point, where the station lights were hidden. And the women didn't follow him. Why not?
