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

one of the most important young executives in Manhattan today!”
“Well, you’re not likely to run into him here.”
David considered strangling her. “What time does the next train leave? I have
to get there fast.”
“We’ll take the express. It should be arriving any time now.”
Sure enough, as soon as she spoke a streamlined train pulled into the station.
The engine was sleek as a bullet, the cars burnished silver. David found a seat in a
coach that hummed as if it were full of energy. The train pulled out, accelerating
smoothly. David was pinned in his seat. Through the window the scenery began to
blur.
“You know,” the crazy woman said, “the baggage handlers may have already
loaded the experiment on board.” She turned to him. “My name is Susan. What’s
yours?”
Back in New Zion a year passed, and still Monica had heard nothing from
David. He was as gone as Judge Crater. “How could this happen to me?” Monica
asked Lance. “Jilted by a man who doesn’t know how to tie his own necktie!”
Lance smoothed his mustache. “He’s probably just dodging the draft.”
Monica brushed away a tear. “The swine! Thank God you’re 4-F.”
“Yes, thank God - for your sake.” He touched her cheek. “But tempus fugit,
darling. You need to move on.”
“Don’t even think it, Lance - no amount of time will heal this wound!”
Doesn’t this train seem to be moving a little fast?” David asked.
“You wanted the express, didn’t you? This is the Einstein Express.”
“Yes, but how fast does it go?”
“Somewhere near the speed of light. Now let’s find Mr. Smith.”
“The speed of light! I guess I’ll be home early after all.”
Susan looked a little uncomfortable. “Actually, we may be a little late.”
David got out of his seat. “In that case I’d better telegram Monica.”
“Monica? She probably forgot all about you a long time ago.”
David thought this woman really was the most abrupt person he’d ever met.
“Monica wouldn’t do that. We’re to be married.”
“A girl can’t wait forever. She has to seize the day.”
David blushed. “I’m not the sort of fellow who seizes things.”
“I can see that.”
He found the conductor, with Susan tagging along like a faithful terrier. “My
good man, I need to send a telegram to Miss Monica Finch, 223 Swallow Lane, New
Zion.”
“New Zion! We left there ages ago, pal. She’s not going to want to hear from
you.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
The man handed David a yellow telegraph form. Susan shoved a pencil into
his hand. “I’ll dictate,” she told him. “Take this down. Tell her - |Making very good
time.’“ She leaned over his shoulder. He felt her warm breath on his cheek. “Events
developing more rapidly than expected.”
“More rapidly - than expected,” David repeated. His heart fluttered like a
Marinera spasticus. He felt a wisp of Susan’s hair on his cheek. She really was quite
attractive, for a physicist wearing sneakers.
“Should be home for supper,” she continued. “Sign it, Love, David’ - no,
make that, |Devotedly David.’ No, better make that |In haste, David.’“
She kissed his ear, took the form and handed it to the conductor. “Send that