"C M Kornbluth - The Altar At Midnight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kornbluth C M)

kid in.



"The Y Hotel," I told the driver. "Here's five. Help him in when you get there."
 When I walked through Screwball Square again, some college kids were yelling "wheah's your redlines"
at old Charlie, the last of the Wobblies.



Old Charlie kept roaring: "The hell with your breadlines! I'm talking about atomic bombs.
Right—up—there!" And he pointed at the Moon.



It was a nice night, but the liquor was dying in me.



There was a joint around the corner, so I went in and had a drink to carry me to the club; I had a bottle
there. I got into the first cab that came.



"Athletic Club," I said.



"Inna dawghouse, harh?" the driver said, and he gave me a big personality smile.



I didn't say anything and he started the car.



He was right, of course. I was in everybody's doghouse. Some day I'd scare hell out of Tom and Lise
by going home and showing them what their daddy looked like.



Down at the Institute, I was in the doghouse.



"Oh, dear," everybody at the Institute said to everybody, "I'm sure I don't know what ails the man. A
lovely wife and two lovely grown children and she had to tell him 'either you go or I go.' And drinking!
And this is rather subtle, but it's a well-known fact that neurotics seek out low company to compensate
for their guilt feelings. The places he frequents. Doctor Francis Bowman, the man who made space flight
a reality. The man who put the Bomb Base on the Moon! Really, I'm sure I don't know what ails him."