"Heinlein, Robert A - All You Zombies (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

turned, he walked out with her. --
"Description? --
"Just a man, with a face-shaped face, like yours or
mine. -- He frowned. -- I think it was the baby's father. The
nurse swore it was an older man but he probably used makeup.
Who else would swipe my baby? Childless women pull such stunts
- but whoever heard of a man doing it? --
"What happened to you then? --
"Eleven more months of that grim place and three
operations. In four months I started to grow a beard; before I
was out I was shaving regularly... and no longer doubted that I
was male. -- He grinned wryly. -- I was staring down nurses
necklines. --
"Well, " I said, "seems to me you came through okay.
Here you are, a normal man, making good money, no real
troubles. And the life of a female is not an easy one. --
He glared at me. -- A lot you know about it! "
"So? --
"Ever hear the expression "a ruined woman'? --
"Mmm, years ago. Doesn't mean much today. --
"I was as ruined as a woman can be; that bum really
ruined me - I was no longer a woman... and I didn't know how to
be a man. --
"Takes getting used to, I suppose. --
"You have no idea. I don't mean learning how to dress,
or not walking into the wrong rest room; I learned those in the
hospital. But how could I live? What job could I get? Hell, I
couldn't even drive a car. I didn't know a trade; I couldn't do
manual labor-too much scar tissue, too tender.
"I hated him for having ruined me for the W. E. N. C.
H. E. S., too, but I didn't know how much until I tried to join
the Space Corps instead. One look at my belly and I was marked
unfit for military service. The medical officer spent time on
me just from curiosity; he had read about my case.
"So I changed my name and came to New York. I got by as
a fry cook, then rented a typewriter and set myself up as a
public stenographer - what a laugh! In four months I typed four
letters and one manuscript. The manuscript was for Real Life
Tales and a waste of paper, but the goof who wrote it sold it.
Which gave me an idea; I bought a stack of confession magazines
and studied them. -- He looked cynical. -- Now you know how I
get the authentic woman's angle on
an unmarried-mother story... through the only version I
haven't sold - the true one. Do I win the bottle? --
I pushed it toward him. I was upset myself, but there
was work to do. I said, "Son, you still want to lay hands on
that so-and-so? --
His eyes lighted up-a feral gleam.
"Hold it! " I said. -- You wouldn't kill him? --
He chuckled nastily. -- Try me. --