"Damon Knight - Beyond the Barrier" - читать интересную книгу автора (Knight Damon)

lines flowed subtly and exactly into one another. On the top
face there were oval inlays, arranged in a pattern that con-
veyed nothing to him, and slightly raised from the main shell.
The metal was satiny and cool under his fingers. It looked
machined, not stamped: fine, micrometically exact work.

He turned it over, looking for a nameplate or a serial number
stamped into the metal, but found nothing. There was no
button, dial, or any other obvious way of turning the machine
on. He could not see any way of opening it, except by remov-
ing the inlays from the top.

Naismith felt cautiously at the inlays, trying to see if they
would depress or turn, but without result. He paused, baffled.
After a moment, his fingers began tracing around the outlines
of the machine: it was beautiful workmanship, a pleasure just
to touch it—and yet it seemed without function, useless,
meaningless. .. .

Like the question: "What is a Zug?"

Without warning, Naismith's heart began hammering again.
He had an irrational feeling that he was being carefully
hemmed in—trapped, for some unguessable purpose, and by
persons unknown. His fingers left the machine, then gripped it
fiercely again, pressing hard, twisting, trying to move some part
of the mechanism.

He failed.

The visiphone blinked and brrred.

Naismith swore and hit the switch with his palm; the screen
lighted up. It was Wells, with his iron-gray brush-cut and his
deeply seamed face. "Naismith!" he said sharply. "I called
before—did you get the message?"

"Yes—I just got in—I was about to vise you."

"I'm sorry, Naismith, but I'm afraid this had better not wait.
Come over to my private office."

"Now?"

"Please."

"All right, but what's it about?"

"I'll explain when you get here." Wells' wide mouth closed
firmly, and the screen went gray.