"Doorsways in the Sand 06" - читать интересную книгу автора (Varley John)

"Fred?"
"Yes?"
"Before I forget, if you should oversleep in the morning and I'm gone when you get up, the bacon is in the lower drawer on the right in the refrigerator, and I keep the bread in the cupboard to the left. The eggs are in plain sight. Help yourself."
"Thanks. I'll remember that."
"One other thing. . ."
He leaned forward and lowered his voice.
"I've been doing a lot of thinking," he said.
"Oh?"
"About this trouble in which you find yourself?"
"Yeah?"
"I do not know quite how to put it . . . But . . . Do you think it possible you could be killed as a result?"
"I believe so."
"Well-only if it grows extremely pressing, mind you-but I have some acquaintances of a semisavory sort. If . . . If it becomes necessary for your own welfare that some individual predecease you, I would like you to have my phone number committed to memory. Call if you must, identify him and mention where he can be found. I am owed a few favors. That can be one."
"I . . . I don't really know what to say. Thank you, of course. I hope I don't have to take you up on it. I never expected-"
"It is the least I could do to protect your Uncle Albert's investment."
"You knew of my Uncle Albert? Of his will? You never mentioned-"
"Knew of him? Al and I were schoolmates at the Sorbonne. Summers we used to run arms to Africa and points east. I blew my money. He hung onto his and made more. A bit of a poet, a bit of a scoundrel. It seems to run in your family. Classical mad Irishmen, all of you. Oh yes, I knew Al."
"Why didn't you mention this years ago?"
"You would have thought I was just pulling it on you to get you to graduate. That would not have been fair-interfering with your choices. Now, though, your present problems override my reticence."
"But-"
"Enough!" he said. "Let there be revelry!"
The dwarf banged the cymbals mightily, and Merimee extended his hand. Someone placed a bottle of wine in it. He threw back his head and drew a long, deep swig. The donkey began to prance. A sleepy-eyed girl seated near the hanging beads suddenly sprang to her feet, tearing at her hair and blouse buttons, crying, "Evoe! Evoe!" the while.
"See you around, Fred."
"Cheers."
At least, that is sort of how I remember it. Oblivion had crept perceptibly nearer by then, was almost touching my collar. I leaned back and let it go to work.
Sleep, that unwrinkleth the drip-dry garment of concern, found me later at that dust-and-ashes place where the people go out one by one. I made it to the mattress in the corner, sprawled there and said good night to the ceiling.
Then-
With the water streaming in the basin, lather on my face, Merimee's razor in my hand and me in the mirror, the mists fell away and there was Mt. Fuji. From this station, couched in the center of my most recent dark space, was the thing I had sought, freed by whatever arcane cue had just occurred:

DO YOU HEAR ME, FRED?

YES.

GOOD. THE UNIT IS PROPERLY PROGRAMMED. OUR PURPOSES WILL BE SERVED.

WHAT ARE OUR PURPOSES?

A SINGLE TRANSFORMATION IS ALL THAT WILL BE NECESSARY NOW.

WHAT SORT OF TRANSFORMATION?

PASSAGE THROUGH THE MOBILATOR OF THE N-AXIAL INVERSION UNIT.

YOU MEAN THE CENTRAL COMPONENT OF THE RHENNIUS MACHINE?

AFFIRMATIVE.

WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO RUN THROUGH IT?

YOURSELF.