"Donald Westlake - SH4 - The World's A Stage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Westlake Donald E)

“Wardrobe! Wardrobe!”
“Now what?”

“My wings keep falling off.”

"All right, I’ll get my needle and thread.”



He’s an airhead, Ensign Kybee Benson thought, raging murderously within while he struggled to appear
calm and composed without. A clothead, a bonehead, a meathead. Chowderhead, fathead. Muttonhead.
No, he’s worse than all those-he’s a Luthguster.

The Luthguster in question, Councilman Morton Luthguster of the Supreme Galactic Council, seated on
the other side of Ensign Benson’s desk, went obliviously on with his question: “Why name an entire
planet after an actor? A planet called J. Railsford Farnsworth is ridiculous.”

“In the first place,” Ensign Benson said, swallowing brimstone, “the planet is named Hestia IV, since it is
the fourth planet form its sun, Hestia. The colony’s full name is the J. Rainsford Farnsworth Repertory
Company.”

Councilman Luthguster shook his jowly head. “Damn-fool name for a place,” he insisted. “Detroit, now
that’s a name. Khartoum. Reykjavik. But J. Rainsford Farnsworth Repertory Company?”

A tap at the frame of the open office door was followed by the cheerful, optimistic, shiny young face of
Lieutenant Billy Shelby, Hopeful’s second in command, who said, “We’ve landed, sir. We’re on the
ground.”

”I know what landed means,” Ensign Benson snapped. “I felt the bump. And when I’ve finished
explaining the situation to the councilman, we’ll be along.”

“OK,” Billy said happily. “We’ll be waiting at the air lock. At the door.”

“I know what an air lock is.”

Billy cantered off, and Ensign Benson returned to his task. As social engineer, an expert in comparative
societies, he had the job of giving Council Luthguster the necessary background on each colony they
visited. “When this sector of the universe was colonized,” he explained, “a special cultural fund was set
up to bring the arts to the far-flung outposts of Man. A theatrical troupe from Earth was offered its own
settlement and a subsidy and was meant to tour the other colonies with a repertory of ancient and
modern drama. Of course, contact was lost almost immediately, so the troupe never got its transportation
and therefore never toured. There’s no guessing what it’s become by now.”

Luthguster pursed fat lips. “So who is this fellow J. Rainsford Farnsworth?”

“Founder of the repertory company. The actor-director-manager of the troupe.”

“Do you mean,” Luthguster demanded, puffing out like an adder, “that I shall be expected to discuss
affairs of state with an actor?”
“I don’t think so.” Ensign Benson said. His face was expressionless, but his tense hand had crushed the