"Mike Resnick - Tales Of The Galactic Midway - Alien-Tamer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

transparent flask with a label pasted on one side.
“Here,” it said, offering him the flask. “I hope you are feeling better.”
“I will be in a minute,” said Monk, trying to figure out how to open it.
Finally he thought of twisting the cap in a clockwise direction, and a moment later he
was pouring a couple of ounces of alcohol into his drink. The Sabellian watched him
in silent fascination.
“Thanks a heap, Batman,” said Monk, stirring the concoction with a ballpoint pen and
then taking a long swallow. “Ah, that's better!”
“The translating mechanism seems to have further problems with your pronunciation
of my name. This time it came out asBatman .”
“Friend, when you work for a carny, you get a carny name. From this moment
forward, you're Batman.”
“Is there some significance to it?”
“It came to me in a flash. You look like a bat—that's a flying animal we've got back
on Earth; ugly little beast, too, meaning no offense—and when I was a kid I used to
read about a hero called Batman.”
“I don't like it,” said the Sabellian.
“It's that or Bruce Wayne—take your choice. Or better still, use ‘em both.
Thatought to give you some variety.”
The creature uttered a very audible sigh. “Batman,” it said at last.
“By the way,” said Monk, taking another swallow, “are you a boy or a girl—or ain't it
applicable to Sabellians?”
“I am a male,” responded Batman.
“Good. Then I won't feel awkward when I have to take a shower on the ship.”
“You speak as if everything's settled. I have a number of questions yet to ask.”
“Ask away,” said Monk expansively, puffing happily on his cigar. “But before you
do, let me ask you one first: why the hell do you want to be part of an animal act?”
“I don't. But I have spent my entire life on Sabellius III. I have seen sentient beings of
all shapes and sizes come and go. I have heard them speak of exotic worlds and
distant places, and I have always remained behind when they went to their next port
of call.” Batman turned his gaze out the window and looked up into the sky. “Did you
not ever want to see what was beyond the next hill, what strange and unique
civilizations lay beyond your own?”
“Until I got there,” answered Monk. “Let me tell you up front: one world is pretty
much like the next.”
“I know for a fact that this is not true.”
“Then Mr. Ahasuerus has been holding out on us,” said Monk wryly. “Besides, we
ain't exactly tourists. Whatever the worlds may look like, I guarantee that the inside of
the ship and the inside of the tent don't change from one planet to the next, and that's
ninety percent of what you'll be seeing.”
“Nevertheless, I want the opportunity to see for myself.”
“Well, far be it from me to talk you out of it,” said Monk, finishing his drink and
mixing another. “You'll have to forgive that little outburst of honesty, it won't happen
again.” He looked up at the Sabellian. “You gonna get in any trouble for walking out
on your job—or, more to the point, can you getme in any trouble for taking you
along?”
“My job, as you have doubtless noticed, consists of taking visitors to and from the
spaceport. I rather suspect that the Corporation will survive without me.”
“If you're so all-fired hot to see other worlds, and the Corporation hasn't got you tied
up in some long-term contact, why the hell are you still here?” asked Monk.