"Fred Hoyle & John Elliot - A For Andromeda" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hoyle Fred)

"Oh, ask at the desk!" said Bridger impatiently.
"One of your team?" Judy asked Fleming.
"Local talent. Dennis's. I've no time."
"Pity," she said. But he appeared not to hear. Taking another swig from the flask, he addressed himself unsteadily to the
bowling. Bridger turned confidentially to her.
"What have you heard about me?"
"Only that you'd been working with Dr. Fleming."
"It isn't my cup." He looked aggrieved; the point of his nose twitched like a rabbit's. "I could get five times my salary in
industry."
"Is that what you want?"
"As soon as that lot on the hill's working, I'm away."
He glanced across at Fleming, conspiratorially, then back at her. "Old John will stay, looking for the millennium.
And before he's found anything, he'll be old. Old and respected. And poor."
"And possibly happy."
"John'll never be happy. He thinks too much."
"Who drinks too much?" Fleming lurched back to them and marked up his score.
"You do."
"All right-I drink too much. Brother, you've got to have something to hold on to."
"What's wrong with the railings?" asked Bridger, twitching his nose.
"Look-" Fleming slumped down on to the bench beside them. "You're going to walk along those railings, and then you'll take
another pace and they won't be there. We were talking about Galileo-why? Because he was the Renaissance. He and Copernicus
and Leonardo da Vinci. That was when they said 'Wham!' and knocked down all the railings and had to stand on their own feet
in the middle of a great big open universe."
He heaved himself up and took another of the heavy bowls from the rack. His voice rose above the din of the music and
bowling.
"People have put up new fences, further out. But this is another Renaissance! One day, when nobody's noticing, when
everybody's talking about politics and football, and money-" he loomed over Bridger, "then suddenly every fence we know is
going to get knocked down-wham!- like that!"
He made a great sweep with the bowl and knocked the bottles of Coke off the scoring table.
"Oi! Careful, you great clot!" Bridger leapt to his feet and started picking up the bottles and mopping at the spilt drink with
his handkerchief. "I'm sorry. Miss Adamson."
Fleming threw back his head and laughed, "Judy-her name is Judy."
Bridger, down on his knees, rubbed away at the stain on Judy's skirt, "I'm afraid it's gone on you."
"It doesn't matter." Judy was not looking at him. She was gazing up at Fleming, puzzled and entranced. Then the Tannoy
went.
"Doctor Fleming-telephone call, please."
Fleming came back after a minute, shaking his head to clear it. He pulled Bridger up from the bench.
"Come on, Dennis boy. We're wanted."
Harvey was alone in the control-room, sitting at the desk adjusting the receiver tune. The window in front of him was dark as
a blackboard, and the room was quiet except for a constant crackle of sound from the loudspeaker. From outside-nothing, until
the noise of Fleming's car.



8
 Fleming and Bridger came pushing in through the swing doors and stood, blinking, in the light. Fleming focused blearily on
Harvey.
"What is it?"
"Listen." Harvey held up a hand, and they stood listening.
In among the crackle and whistles and hiss from the speaker came a faint single note, broken but always continuing.