"Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. Roadside Picnic (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

the one-armed bandit. And time flew like a bird. I was putting in my last
nickel when Richard Noonan and Gutalin crashed into the hospitable arms of
the bar. Gutalin was blotto, rolling his eyes and looking for a place to
rest his fist. Richard Noonan was tenderly holding him by the elbow and
distracting him with jokes. A pretty pair! Gutalin is a huge black ape with
knuckles down to his knees, and Dick is a small round pink creature that all
but glows.
"Hey!" shouted Dick. "There's Red! Come over and join us!"
"R-r-right!" roared Gutalin. "There are only two real men in this whole
city--Red and me! All the rest are pigs or Satan's children. Red, you also
serve the devil, but you're still human."
I came over with my glass. Gutalin peeled off my jacket and seated me
at the table.
"Sit down, Red! Sit down, Satan's servant. I like you. Let's have a cry
over the sins of mankind. A good long bitter wail."
"Let's wail," I said. "Let's drink the tears of sin."
"For the day is nigh," Gutalin announced. "For the white steed is
saddled and his rider has put his foot in the stirrup. And the prayers of
those who have sold themselves to Satan are in vain. Only those who have
renounced him will be saved. You, children of man who were seduced by the
devil, who play with the devil's toys, who dig up Satan's treasures--I say
unto you: you are blind! Awake, you bastards, before it's too late! Trample
the devil's trinkets!" He stopped, as though he had forgotten what came
next. "Can I get a drink here?" he suddenly asked in a different voice. "You
know, Red, I've been canned again. Said I was an agitator. I keep explaining
to them: Awake, blind ones, you're falling into the pit and taking others
with you! They just laughed. So I punched the shop leader in the nose and
split. They'll arrest me now. And for what?" Dick came over and put the
bottle on the table.
"It's on me today!" I called to Ernest.
Dick gave me a sidelong look.
"It's perfectly legal," I said. "We're drinking my bonus check."
"You went into the Zone?" Dick asked. "Bring anything out?"
"A full empty," I said. "For the altar of science. Are you going to
pour that or not?"
"An empty!" Gutalin echoed in sorrow. "You risked your life for some
empty! You survived, but you brought another devil's artifact into the
world. How do you know, Red, how much of sorrow and sin. . . ."
"Can it, Gutalin," I said severely. "Drink and rejoice that I came back
alive. To success, my friends."
It went over well, the toast to success. Gutalin fell apart completely.
He was weeping, the tears streaming like water from a spout. I know him
well. It's just a phase. Weeping and preaching that the Zone is the devil's
temptation. That we should take nothing out of it and return everything that
we've taken. And go on living as though the Zone were not there. Leave the
devil's things to the devil. I like him. Gutalin, I mean. I usually like
weirdos. When he has money, he buys up the swag without haggling, for
whatever price the stalkers ask, and totes it back at night into the Zone
and buries it. He was waiting. But he would be stopping soon.
"What's a full empty?" Dick asked. "I know what a plain empty is, but