"C M Kornbluth - The Cosmic Charge Account" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kornbluth C M)

joking. My brother—he teaches philosophy atColumbia—mentioned him to me. Leuten's a crackpot.
Every year or two Weintraub Verlag inBaslebrings out another volume of his watchamacallit and they sell
about a thousand. Functional Epistemology—my brother says it's all nonsense, the kind of stuff vanity
presses put out. It was just a gag about us turning him into a Schweitzer or a Toynbee and bringing out a
one-volume condensation. People just buy his books—I suppose—because they gojt started and feel
ashamed to stop.



Mr. Hopedale said: "Do it, Norris. Do it. We can scrape together enough cash for one big promotion
and then— the end. I'm going to see Brewster of Commercial Factors in the morning. I believe he will
advance us sixty-five per cent on our accounts receivable." He tried on a cynical smile. It didn't become
him. "Norris, you are what is technically called a Publisher's Bright Young Man. We can get seven-fifty
for a scholarly book. With luck and promotion we can sell in the hundred-thousands. Get on it." I
nodded, feeling sick, and started out. Mr. Hopedale said in a tired voice: "And it might actually be work
of some inspirational value."



Professor Leuten sat and listened, red-faced, breathing hard. "You—betrayer," he said at last. "You with
the smiling face that came toBasle, that talked of lectures in
 America, that told me to sign your damnable contract. My face on the cover of the Time magazine that
looks like a monkey, the idiotic interviews, the press release-ments in my name that I never saw.America,
I thought, and held my tongue. But—from the beginning—it was_ a lie!" He buried his face in his hands
and muttered-"Ach! You stink!"



That reminded me. I took a small stench-bomb from my pocket and crushed it.



He leaped up, balanced on one leg and thumbed his nose. His tongue was out four inches and he was
panting with the terror of asphyxiation.



"Very good," I said.



"Thank you. I suchest we move to the other end of the car."



We and our luggage were settled before he began to breathe normally. I judged that the panic and most
of his anger had passed. "Professor," I said cautiously, "I've been thinking of what we do when—>and
if—we find Miss Phoebe."