Will a grave correct a hunchback? With full responsibility, I declare: no. Stalker Smith? Who is he? He came in from somewhere Polotsk, covered in debts like a cat in fleas—card player to the point of forgetfulness, cautious to the point of cowardice, infinitely greedy and calculating down to the last detail. You spit in his face—he’ll wipe it off and say “thank you.” But even such a hopeless type, in the Zone, can first be smashed like a beer can—and then forged into a steel rod.
Chinga—the legendary stalker, the hammer in her forge and the anvil. Strikes of fate not only bend and break; sometimes they straighten and harden.
Contains obscene language.