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Eat your salad.
What Dmitri Alexeyevich
is working on
brings us closer to the realization
of the mankind's age-old dream.
You see, everything's all right.
You shouldn't have worried.
Perhaps our contemporary will
break out beyond the Solar system
and head for the depths of the Galaxy!
Why should he break
out of the Solar system
and what does he
need the Galaxy for?
- Are you kidding?
- Not at all.
I'm admiring
the feat of our cosmonauts.
Not long ago I would've been happy
to fly to Venus. But why Galaxy?
You don't understand why man
needs to go out of the Solar system?
- No, I don't.
- You don't?
I don't understand it either.
It's just narrow-mindedness.
I'm not even drinking to that.
You're right.
It's not narrow-mindedness,
it's sober-mindedness.
Oh, Nikolai Ivanovich!
And I'm backing up
Valery Ivanovich.
Why Venus?
Only the Galaxy!
The size of our Galaxy
is 100,000 light-years.
Tell me, how deep are you
going to get in there?
For starters, I'd say
as deep as 500 light-years.
- Not far, just the edge, so to speak.
- Precisely.
- At what speed?
- Close to the speed of light.
- The ship's weight?
- 100,000 tons.
- Fuel?
- State of the art.
Let's make calculations.
Be so kind, give me a napkin.
Let's calculate how much
fuel you'll need.
It was a great idea to throw in
the fuel.
They seem to be aflame already.
They won't be finished soon.
We're for the Galaxy!
The farther, the better!
- Well, how is it?
- Great.
Why are you staring at me?
You're my property now.
How do you find me?
Could be better.
- Was it all right leaving the table?
- They're arguing about the Galaxy.
What? What is it, my dear?
Everything's all right, yes. Thank you.
Valery Ivanovich, if they
fly a thousand years,
how are you going
to compute their per diem?
He's sending them
for 500 light-years.
Let him do it.
If they're accelerated
up to the speed of light...
They will turn
to elementary particles.
Valery Ivanovich,
no more questions!
Have you finished your calculations?
Yes, we have. There you are.
For a spaceship
weighing 100,000 tons
at a speed close to the speed of light
to fly over a part of the Galaxy
in a reasonable
for a human life time,
it will take you
10 in the 22nd power tons
of the state of the art fuel.
For your information: Our planet
weighs a little bit less.
Bon voyage!
When Tsiolkovsky was
designing his rocket,
some learned skeptics like you
sat at the Yar Restaurant
and tried to prove on napkins
that he was crazy.
And yet we fly.
- But not to the Galaxy.
- Not yet.
Nothing special happened on that day.
We've chosen it because
it was a carbon copy
of many others like it.
I must get up
and fix him a breakfast.
Breakfast every day,
breakfast every day...
Oh, how I want to sleep!
Why do men eat?
It's just that I'm a bad wife.
I should repeat it
7 times each morning:
"I'm a bad wife,
I'm a bad wife, I'm a bad wife."
I'm a bad wife.
Mitya, are you asleep?
He is.
I'm getting up!
What shall I cook for him?
He hates scrambled eggs.
I forgot to buy sausage.
I'm a bad wife.
I'm getting up.
Why was it so wonderful
to be simply in love?
Why does everything change
when you become man and wife?
I'm sick and tired of those pi mesons!
Perhaps I'm a bad physicist.
A bad physicist and a bad wife.
And what's good about me?
All the rest is
pretty good, I think.
Mitya, get up! It's time.
Mitya, you'll be angry again!
- I'm awake.
- No, you're asleep.
No, I'm not.
All right,
all the rest is fine.
You must be
fed up with eggs?
Do you want me
to cook something else tomorrow?
Yes, buckwheat porridge.
I don't know how.
- What nonsense!
- I've never cooked it.
I didn't mean you.
Your Ilya is some wise guy.
He's no longer mine.
- Whose is he now?
- No one's.
Why is he a wise guy?
Mankind gets stupider with each day.
I think it's us who's getting
stupider with each day.
We don't go
Девять дней одного года Девять дней одного года

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