"Doorways in the sand" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

LET US HOPE. WHEN SHOULD I BE ABOUT IT?

AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

ALL RIGHT I WILL THINK OF SOME WAY TO GET AT IT AGAIN.

THAT THEN IS ALLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

There it was, in its entirety. Instant replay-only in less time than it took me to raise my hand to my cheek and cut a highway through the lather. My nameless respondent had come through all right, and this time he had promised a satisfying result. I began to hum. Even a shaky assurance of enlightenment is better than indefinite uncertainty.
When I had finished, I bypassed the front room and made my way into the kitchen. It was a narrow place, with a sink full of dirty dishes and the smell of curry in the air. I set about assembling a meal.
In the lower right-hand drawer of the refrigerator, lying atop the package of bacon, I discovered a note. It said simply: "Remember the number and what I said about calling it."
So I ran the digits through my mind, over and over, as I scrambled, fried and toasted. Then, just as I was sitting down to eat, the donkey came into the kitchen and stared at me.
"Coffee?" I suggested.
"Stop that!"
"What?"
"Those numbers. It is extremely irritating."
"What numbers?"
"The ones you are thinking. They are swarming like insects."
I spread marmalade on a piece of toast and took a bite.
"Go to hell," I said. "My uses for telepathic donkeys are limited, and what I do in the privacy of my own mind is my business."
"The human mind, Mister Cassidy, is seldom worth the visit. I assure you I did not request the assignment of monitoring yours. It is obvious now that I erred in mentioning a creature courtesy you cannot appreciate. I suppose that I should apologize."
"Go ahead."
"You go to hell."
I started in on the eggs and bacon. A minute or two passed.
"My name is Sibla," the donkey said.
I decided that I did not really care and went on eating.
"I am a friend of Ragma-and Charv."
"I see," I said, "and they sent you to spy on me, to poke around in my mind."
"That is not so. I was assigned the job of protecting you until you were fit to receive a message and act on it."
"How were you to protect me?"
"By keeping you inconspicuous-"
"With a donkey following me around? Who briefed you, anyway?"
"I am aware of my prominence in this guise. I was about to explain that my task was to provide for your mental silence. As a telepath, I am capable of dampening your thought noises. It has not really been necessary, however, in that alcohol deadens them considerably. Still, I am here to shield you against premature betrayal of your position to another telepath."
"What other telepath?"
"To be more honest than may be necessary, I do not know. It was decided at some level other than my own that there might be a telepath involved in this case. I was sent here both to keep you silent and to block any unfriendly telepath trying to reach you. Also, I was to attempt to determine the identity and whereabouts of that individual."
"Well? What happened?"
"Nothing. You were drunk and no one tried to reach you."
"So the guess was wrong."
"Possibly. Possibly not."
I resumed eating. Between mouthfuls, I asked, "What is your level or rank, or whatever? The same as Charv's and Ragma's? Or are you higher up?"
"Neither," the donkey replied. "I am in budget analysis and cost accounting. I was drafted as the only available telepath capable of assuming this role."
"Are you under any restrictions as to what you can tell me?"
"I was told to exercise my judgment and common sense."
"Strange. Nothing else about this business seems particularly rational. They must not have had time to brief you fully."
"True. There was quite a rush about it. I had to allow for travel time and the substitution."
"What substitution?"
"The real donkey is tied up out back."
"Uh-huh."
"I am reading your thoughts, and I am not about to give you any answers Ragma refused you."