Plyuk

You are on Pluka.
There are two suns in the sky, one huge and yellow, the other smaller and orange. It's so hot that the air above the dunes trembles. No trees, no water, no shade. Only rusty bits of iron stick out of the sand. You remember Moscow, you remember the button on the little device. You remember how you pressed it—and the world turned inside out. In the distance, beyond the dune, there's a whirring sound: a cone-shaped cylinder emerges from the sand, smokes black, and settles. An iron cage rolls out of it on rails. In the cage is a barefoot, bearded man with a bell in his nose. He slaps his cheeks, crouches, and stands up. A bald, fat man in purple overalls and yellow slippers runs out of the cage. He holds two rusty balls in his hands. He points his finger at you and says one word:

• Coo!