An ironic detective. This story happened in those glorious times when beer was sold not so watered down; in the shops it appeared rather rarely, and that’s why people bought and drank it in the largest amounts possible, sugar lay freely in stores, and the people knew that they were the people.
So what hit that town in the center of the Eurasian continent? What force interfered with its sleepy provincial life? Was there an attempt by some unknown cosmic forces to invade—or only a rehearsal of an invasion—the authors do not undertake to answer that question. The authors don’t need anything more than the fact that they almost took responsibility for the credibility of the events described below.