One hundredth day of flight. Hardly slept at all last night. Got up in the morning and straight to work. It’s now half past noon. The guys are up. Sveta took a long time getting ready in their ship. Yesterday too, when we opened the hatch after docking, we waited a long time for her, and she, like any woman, was primping and shouting from the descent module: “Just a moment, just a moment!” — and then a ponytail of hair appeared.

The day was spent calmly, without commotion. We began swapping ships, since they’ll be returning home on our ship, whose service life is expiring. We transferred the seat liners, which are individually molded from casts of our body shapes in a special plaster bath. This is necessary so that in case of impact against the ground at the moment of landing — if the soft-landing engines fail or the ship tips over in strong wind — we don’t sustain injuries. Then we carried over ballast weights, spacesuits, documentation. During the day I barely looked at the Earth. Lyosha was observing the Falkland Islands — he remembers. There’s a war going on there now. Sveta is cunning; she watches us. The letters they brought were good. I asked the guys how things are. They said: fine, only the doctors are worried about my condition because I supposedly don’t do enough exercise. In the evening, when we were drinking tea, Sveta shook the flask, and amber drops flew in all directions, and we all flew around catching them with our mouths, like fish catching food.