"When in the dead of night only one window dimly lit up the huge house, we could unmistakably say that there, nestled in the corner near his homemade devices, having arranged the lamp so that the light would not disturb the sleeping household, a radio amateur was performing his sacred rites. And indeed, there was something to be carried away by, it was worth giving up sleep for such an exciting activity. Imagine. In a plywood structure, stuffed with lamps and wires, a radio wave is born at your will. Here it runs along the wire to the roof, there it breaks off and with incomprehensible speed, piercing the clouds, rushes into the stratosphere to the reflective layer. There, at an altitude of hundreds of kilometers, the wave, created by your hand just a fraction of a second ago, changes direction, returns to the ground at a certain angle, is reflected again and again goes up, encircling the globe in giant leaps. Who will hear it and answer? Most likely, a similarly suffering enthusiast from the neighboring block. But the antipode can also respond with the same probability. True, it was rare to establish contact with the antipode. But still, it was possible. Isn't it worth sitting past midnight in front of the radio for this? After all, a person waits his whole life for happiness. And it can be, but it can also pass by. The whole meaning of life, perhaps, is in active attempts to achieve, and sometimes in patient waiting."