"Robert Heinlein - Year of the Jackpot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

on its side and warm up the arctic regions. Patent denied,
but the inventor took in over three hundred thousand dol-
lars in down payments on South Pole real estate before the
postal authorities stepped in. Now he's fighting the case and
it looks as if he might win. And hereprominent bishop
proposes applied courses in the so-called facts of life in high
schools." He put the card away hastily. "Here's a dilly: a bill
introduced in the Alabama lower house to repeal the laws
of atomic energynot the present statutes, but the natural
laws concerning nuclear physics; the wording makes that
plain." He shrugged. "How silly can you get?"
"They're crazy."
"No, Meade. One such is crazy; a lot of them is a lemming
death march. No, don't objectI've plotted them on a curve.
The last time we had anything like this was the so-called
Era of Wonderful Nonsense. But this one is much worse."
He delved into a lower drawer, hauled out a graph. "The
amplitude is more than twice as great and we haven't
reached peak. What the peak will be I don't dare guess
three separate rhythms, reinforcing."
She peered at the curves. "You mean that the laddy with
the artic real estate deal is somewhere on this line?"
"He adds to it. And back here on the last crest are the flag-
pole sitters and the goldfish swallowers and the Ponzi hoax
and the marathon dancers and the man who pushed a pea-
nut up Pikes Peak with his nose. You're on the new crest-
or you will be when I add you in."
She made a face. "I don't like it."
"Neither do 1. But it's as clear as a bank statement. This
year the human race is letting down its hair, flipping its lip
with a finger, and saying, 'Wubba, wubba, wubba."'
She shivered. "Do you suppose I could have another
drink? Then I'll go."
"I have a better idea. I owe you a dinner for answering
questions. Pick a place and we'll have a cocktail before."
She chewed her lip. "You don't owe me anything. And
I don't feel up to facing a restaurant crowd. I might . . . I
might"
"No, you wouldn't," he said sharply. "It doesn't hit twice."
"You're sure? Anyhow, I don't want to face a crowd." She
glanced at his kitchen door. "Have you anything to eat in
there? I can cook."
"Urn, breakfast things. And there's a pound of ground
round in the freezer compartment and some rolls. I some-
times make hamburgers when I don't want to go out."
She headed for the kitchen. "Drunk or sober, fully dressed
ornaked, I can cook. YouTI see."
He did see. Open-faced sandwiches with the meat mar-
ried to toasted buns and the flavor garnished rather than
suppressed by scraped Bermuda onion and thin-sliced dill,