"Robert F. Young - Structural Defect" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

something all they have to do is say so, and bingo! right away they can buy it!"
 "It's a great little old world all right," Mrs. Smith said.
Mr. Smith lit his pipe. He leaned forward in his comfort-able chair. "Yessir," he said. "Why, look
what everybody's got already!" He began to enumerate on his fingers: "A swell new car, a fine new
garage to keep it in, a beautiful new modern house with all the latest conveniences, a pleasant garden to
relax in, an anamor-phic set— Why, I could go on forever, Mother!"
"Watch me jump!" Little Timmie shouted.
"We're pretty lucky people all right," Mrs. Smith said. "Be careful, Timmie!"
"Well I guess we are!" Mr. Smith said. He blew a big cloud of smoke. "And now, do you know
what, Mother? Lots of people are looking for do-mestic bluebirds. That's right. Bluebirds. It seems a bad
ship-ment of bluebird houses got dis-tributed by mistake. A pretty bad shipment, I understand. And
bluebirds, being pretty persnickety critters, just won't come around and live in them." He blew an even
bigger cloud of smoke. "Can you beat that, Mother?"
"Well I declare!" Mrs. Smith said.
"Yessir. And that's why I say that this is a pretty fine little old world, because do you know what,
Mother? Some fine big company heard about this sudden demand for bluebirds and they went way out
of their way to get some. Just so all those dissatisfied people could be happy. Now isn't that some-thing,
Mother?"
Mrs. Smith shook her head in reverant admiration. She cluck-clucked. "Well I guess so!" she said. "I
think it's sim-ply marvelous!"
"You just bet it's marvel-ous!" Mr. Smith shifted around in his comfortable chair so that he faced the
Melray living room, and every other living room in the city. "Now this fine big company is mak-ing
bluebird deliveries this very night to every aviary, eve-ry department store, and every credit store in the
city. Now all you dissatisfied folks have got to do," he said, looking Melray straight in the eye and
point-ing stabbingly with his pipe, "is step into one of those stores tomorrow morning and there'll be a
bluebird ready for you, just waiting for you to buy it and take it home. How's that for service, folks? By
tomor-row night there'll be a bluebird in every backyard!"
"Say," Melray said, "that's all right. Did you hear that, Babs?"
Barbara's eyes reluctantly relinquished Little Timmie. They weren't empty any more, Melray noticed.
They were overflowing now; overflowing with something that was even worse than the emptiness had
been. "Hear what, dear?"
"About the bluebirds. You can buy them now."
"That's wonderful, dear."
"I'll stop by first thing in the morning before they're all gone." He watched her eyes as they drifted
away from his— drifted back to the screen and Little Timmie Smith. The silence that crept into the room
was so tangible that even Mr. Smith's complacent braying could scarcely penetrate it.


IT WAS a fine bird all right—so brightly blue it almost hurt your eyes to look at it. It perched
charmingly in its little plastic cage, its tiny radiant eyes steadfastly regarding its surroundings. Every now
and then it would ruffle its bluer-than-blue plumage, and make a soft twittering sound. Shortly after that it
would leap to the transparent wall of the cage and beat its wings rhythmically for several seconds, as
though in flight, and then it would return dutifully to its perch.
When he got to the factory, Melray set the cage on the bench beside his panel, and all day long,
during the inter-vals when no buttons were lighted up for him to push, and during his lunch hour, he
watched its azure occupant. He was so excited that he could hardly wait to get home so that be could
show the bluebird to Barbara.
"Look, Barbara!" he said, the minute he came in the door, "Isn't it beautiful?"
"Oh, it is!"
"I'm going to put it in the bird house. Want to come out and watch?"