"John Kessel - The Einstein express" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kessel John)

The Einstein express
by John Kessel

****
“Whatever you do, don’t offend Mr. Solomon,” Monica said, pushing David up the
stairs to the commuter platform. She tugged his five-inch-wide Windsor-knotted tie
straight. Monica always took such a motherly interest in his appearance. She would
never, she told him, let him embarrass either of them.
“I’m not a child, Monica.”
“You need this accounting job, David. It’s 1941. I can’t marry a man who
fritters away his time on butterflies.”
“I know Monica.” David was impressed by the authority of her eyebrows.
Monica had the eyebrows of a five-star general. “But you’re going to hate waiting
for me while I make this long commute.”
She pinched his cheek. “I have ways to keep myself occupied. See you
tonight.” As she turned to go David tried to kiss her, but she danced away. “David!
Don’t be an animal!” She got into Lance’s Buick and drove off.
David stood amid the other commuters waiting for the train at the New Zion
station. He really wanted to be a lepidopterologist, not an accountant, but nobody
needed butterfly collectors. From his side pocket he pulled the folder containing the
specimen Yabadaba flooglus he’d received in the mail the day before and examined
it, dreaming of Amazonian jungles and the thrill of the hunt. The flooglus was very
rare; he had spent fifteen dollars on it.
At the other end of the platform a young woman in an overcoat and sneakers
was prowling around muttering to herself. She peered toward David, shielding her
eyes with her hand, and stalked over to him. “Have you seen Mr. Smith?”
“Mr. Smith?”
“He should be here somewhere.”
“What does he look like?”
“Well actually, you can’t tell. He’s in a box.” She had a pale oval face and
straight dark hair. Her coat was four sizes too large. “You have him, don’t you.
What did you do with him?”
“What?”
“Did you open the box? Has there been a spontaneous decay? Did the bottle
break?”
 “My good woman - “
“I’m not a woman, I’m a physicist. You look like you could be a scientist - or
an accountant.”
“I am an accountant - “
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“ - and I have no idea what I’d want with Mr. Smith or his box - “
“My box.”
The other people on the platform were staring at them. He supposed he had to
humor this madwoman just so she’d shut up. And if somebody was indeed trapped
in a box he really ought to help. “Maybe it’s in the baggage room.” They searched
through the station’s baggage room. Ten minutes later she had him trapped behind a
steamer trunk while the local for New York arrived, and left. “I’ve missed my train!”
David shouted.
“So what? I’ve missed my dog.”
“Your dog! You kept me here looking for your dog? I have a meeting with