There were three of us at work. I prepared a tree - drew in the snow and chopped the underbrush, then Petr Chokhov cut the longwood with a bucksaw. Afanasiev bucked it up trying to make as many high quality logs as possible. Logs of each sort are of certain length and an admissible error is plus or minus 2cm... Any error is punished with a fine and an error exceeding 2cm means a threat of trial on the charge of sabotage.]
"I've had it, Frosya! Let you count them! I am trembling all over by the end of the day... I am afraid of making a muddle. They will give a trial... Will railroad... My Sima has just produced a daughter... Thus I won't see her child... Eighteen kilometres! They don't let go to her... I've had it!" Afanasiev mumbled clutching his head.
"To what a state of complete nervous breakdown Khokhrin has pushed his slaves," I thought.