"Arkadi and Boris Strugatsky. Monday begins on Saturday (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

case, it turned up in my shoe.) The disappearance of the piece from the
saucer with the coppers cannot be observed: it is immediately lost to sight
in the pile of other coppers, and no motion of any kind takes place in the
instant of the transfer to the pocket.
And so, we were faced with a so-called unspendable five-kopeck piece in
the process of its functioning. In itself the fact of the unspendability did
not interest me. My imagination was primarily overwhelmed by the possibility
of an extra-dimensional transference of a material object. It was abundantly
clear that the mysterious move of the coin from seller to buyer represented
none other than a special case of the legendary matter transmission, so well
known to the friends of science-fiction under the pseudonyms of hyper
transposition, similarization, Tarantog's phenomenon. . . . The unfolding
perspectives were overpowering.
I didn't have any instruments. An ordinary minimum-recording lab
thermometer could tell a lot, but I didn't even have that. I was forced to
limit myself to purely visual subjective observations. I started my last
tour of the square, with the following self-assigned task: "Having placed
the coin next to the change saucer, and impeding to the maximum possible
extent the cashier's mixing it with the rest of the coins before passing the
change, to trace visually the process of transference in space, attempting
simultaneously to determine, even qualitatively, the change in the
temperature of the air near the presumed Trajectory of Transit" However, the
experiment was cut short right at the start.
When I approached Manya, my first seller, I was already expected by the
same young police sergeant whom I had met before.
"So," he said in a professional tone.
I looked at him searchingly, with a premonition of disaster.
"May I see your papers, citizen," he said, saluting and looking past
me.
"What's the problem?" I asked, taking out my passport.
"And I'll be asking you for the coin, too," said the policeman,
accepting the passport.
I handed him the five-kopeck piece in silence. Manya was regarding me
with accusing eyes. The policeman studied the coin and, stating with
satisfaction, "Aha," opened the passport. He studied that passport like a
bibliophile would study a rare incunabulum. I waited, mortified. A crowd
grew slowly around us. Various opinions about me were expressed by its
members.
"We'll have to take a walk," the policeman finally said.
We took a walk. While we walked, several variants on my unsavory
biography were created in the accompanying crowd, and a series of
antecedents was formulated for the court case that was initiated right in
front of everybody's eyes.
In the station house, the policeman handed the passport and the
five-kopeck piece to the lieutenant on duty. He examined the coin and
offered me a chair. I sat down. The lieutenant said disdainfully, "Hand in
the change," and also immersed himself in the study of my passport. I
shoveled out the coppers. "Count them, Kovalev," said the lieutenant and
looked at me steadily.
"Bought much?" he asked.