Anatoly Kuzmich was not celebrating Boris Yeltsin's reelection as Russia's president today. As one of many thousands of workers in Russia's disintegrating Soviet-built industries, he said he expected that "nothing good for us" would come out of Yeltsin's victory.

For Kuzmich and his employer -- Moscow's sprawling ZiL auto plant -- and for the Russian industrial sector in general, the conclusion of the presidential campaign season brings a season of reckoning for which the long-range forecast is grim.

In recent months, Yeltsin fought off his election rival, Communist leader Gennady Zyuganov, by soft-pedaling much of his government's free-market reform program. He halted privatization of state property and raided the treasury to sow gifts where he might harvest votes. Notably, he arranged for rapid payment of back wages and pensions to hundreds of thousands of state employees and retirees.

But, analysts say, having won the election, Yeltsin is likely to curb his campaign largess and reinstitute tight reformist policies -- which would augur ill for Russia's sick industries. And ZiL, once one of the country's proudest industries, is one of its sickest.

Yeltsin has not yet outlined a program for his new administration, but analysts say it is almost certain to continue on the path of economic reform. "He sees himself as the guru who will lead Russia into the 21st century . . . and he no longer has a {political} need to slow down" parts of that program, said Konstantin Eggert, a political reporter with the influential newspaper Izvestia.

Even as Yeltsin's prospects for reelection looked slim early in the campaign, he did not totally abandon reform, Eggert said. He added, though, that he suspects the government "printed new money" to pay back wages and that this will fuel inflation later in the year. With its eye on the campaign, Yeltsin's government also slowed tax collection, and the Finance Ministry warned recently that revenues were 40 percent below expectations -- a shortfall that is likely to bring cuts in public spending.

Outside the ZiL factory in south Moscow today, Kuzmich, who is nearly 60, was heading home from his job operating a machine that stamps sheet metal into fenders and hoods. He said grimly that further economic reform is likely to make him poorer -- and maybe jobless.

If nothing else, Yeltsin's victory swept away Kuzmich's hopes that Zyuganov, somehow, might have found a less painful way to render ZiL solvent. Zyuganov promised new subsidies for ailing enterprises, but he never explained where he would find the money. "He said he would revive our industries as the top priority, and that's why I voted for him," Kuzmich said.

ZiL's work force has shriveled from 70,000 in 1991 -- just before the collapse of the Soviet Union -- to about 25,000 in today's quasi-market economy, and the company is close to bankruptcy. While 77 percent of the Moscow vote went to Yeltsin Wednesday, apparently little of that came from ZiL workers. "Those are Muscovites who are rich, or at least getting something out of the new economy," said a journalist with the ZiL factory newspaper who asked not to be named. "Our workers are getting nothing," she said.

ZiL's assembly-line hangars stretch for nearly a mile along Auto Factory Street on the banks of the Moscow River -- industrial-age monoliths of rust, broken windows and scaling concrete. Employees who trickled through its gates today to catch buses home said they had been paid their salaries for January only a few days ago.

"Basically, we work for free because the company has no money," said a car assembler who gave his name as Viktor. "The only reason we come to work," he said, "is because we hope somehow the company can be saved from closing and our jobs might start paying again."

During much of the Soviet era, the auto plant was called The Factory in the Name of Stalin -- or by its Russian acronym, ZiS. After Stalin's posthumous disgrace, it was renamed for Ivan Likhachev, its first director, and became ZiL. For decades it turned out fleets of military trucks -- and, as a mark of its prestige, the stolid limousines of the Kremlin hierarchy. Its general director once sat on the ruling Communist Party's Central Committee.

But with the collapse of the Soviet system, plant production nose-dived 93 percent by last year, and the Yeltsin government sold it off. It is still in the hands of old-line bureaucrats, however; its general director, Viktor Novikov, served for years as the Soviet deputy minister "for automotive and agricultural machine building."

If the second Yeltsin administration gets serious about ending state support for dying industries, ZiL faces desperate times. Despite having been privatized, the plant seems to be having trouble weaning itself from Soviet-style subsidies; in April, Izvestia reported, ZiL's management coaxed about $100 million in various forms of assistance from the national and Moscow city governments.

Alexander Yefanov, a free-market advocate who was displaced as a plant executive by Novikov last spring, described for Izvestia recently a ZiL application for a bank loan. He said it amounted to a few sentences typed on the plant's letterhead, reading: "To the chairman of Bank X. Please extend credit to replenish our working capital." The plant, Yefanov said, "never regarded the money it received as credits that had to be paid back."