"John Varley - Mammoth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Varley John)

"Anybody I want to be."



THERE was no one in the drive-thru at the Jack in the Box. Christian pulled up to the window
and nearly shut the place down as most of the patrons and employees craned their necks to get a
better view.

Warburton got out of one of the two heavily armored Mercedes SUVs that had been preceding
and following the Duesenberg, each carrying two heavily armed men, and hurried to Christian as he
was about to pull out with the sack of food sitting next to him. He handed Christian a brown envelope
and went back to his car, where he would sweat profusely in the plush air-conditioned interior until his
employer was back in the relative safety of a building Warburton controlled.

Christian handed the envelope to Matt, who opened it and found one hundred new-minted
thousand-dollar bills. At least, he supposed it was a hundred; it wouldn't seem right to count it just
then.

"Now we've both held a hundred grand, cash, in our hands," Christian said.



ON an impulse Christian drove to the Santa Monica Pier, where he parked in the lot and was
instantly hemmed in by his security crew, who were the very best money could buy, and who, to a
man, wished Howard Christian had never learned how to drive.

Christian unwrapped a hamburger, studied it critically, removed a dangling string of Bermuda
onion, and took a bite.

"Professor Wright," he said, "do you believe time travel is possible?"

"Oh, brother," Matt said. "Howard, stop calling me Professor, and please, tell me you don't
want me to build you a time machine."

Christian stopped chewing.

"I had a lot of time to think on the plane ride down," Matt said.

"And what did you think about?"

"What you might be willing to pay me two million dollars a year for, plus a large research and
development budget. I was pretty sure it wasn't fly-tying lessons, and aside from that, I don't have a
lot of special skills other than a knack for mathematics."

"Some knack. I can't follow your papers. Mentioned for the Nobel Prize."

"It's just a beauty contest. And don't feel bad about not understanding the equations. It's only on
my best days that I understand them myself. Your reputation precedes you, Howard. I'm not talking
of the engineering breakthroughs that made you rich. I mean your... enthusiasms. Your penchant