"Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. Probationers (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

campaign against old Joyce.
The barman laughed again and disappeared under the bar. Yura, smiling
with embarrassment, sat next to the chequered shirt.
- I am perpetuating this ideological struggle with "Mickey Mouse", -
explained the man in a chequered shirt. - It has been five years of trying
to prove to him, that things exist in the solar system, other than drinking
bars.
The barman appeared from behind the stand, carrying a tray with a deep
cardboard plate full of okroshka and a serving of bread.
- I am not even offering you a drink, - said he and skilfully placed
the tray on the table. - I understood immediately, that you - are a Russian
lad. All of you have this peculiar facial expression. I can't say, Ivan,
that I like it, but the sight of it extinguishes thirst. And I feel like
competing for some kind of award, even against own profit.
- Conscience speaking inside a free entrepreneur, - said Ivan. - Only a
year ago I was able to convince him, that selling liquor to innocent people
is immoral.
- Especially if it is done without charge, - said the barman and
laughed. Evidently, he was hinting at the first free drink offer.
Yura was listening, enjoying the chilled, amazingly delicious okroshka.
On the edge of the plate a line was printed, and Yura translated it as: "Eat
to the bottom, find a surprise".
- The point, Joyce, is not even that due to your clientele there is a
need to keep international police in Mirza- Charlie, - Ivan said lazily. -
And, for the time being, I am ignoring the issue that, exactly because of
the advantages of the western cafes over the soviet ones people get an
amazingly easy opportunity to lose their regular human features. It's
unfortunate to witness you, Joyce. Not as a barman, but as a human being. A
man full of life, hairy hands of gold, by far not a mediocre person. And
what does he do? He hangs around the bar, like an old commercial vendomat,
and every night, spitting on his fingers, he counts dirty notes.
- You won't understand this, Ivan, - majestically said the barman.
- Such concept as prestige and turnover of a venue are foreign to you.
Who doesn't know "Mickey Mouse" and Joyce? In every corner of the universe
my bar is known. Where do pilots go after returning from some Jupiter? To
"Mickey Mouse"! Where do our enlisted tramps spend their last day on Earth?
At "Mickey Mouse"! Right here! At this very bar stand! Where does come go to
drown their sorrows or spruce up their success? To me! And where do you
dine, Ivan? - He laughed.
- You come to old Joyce! Naturally, you would never visit me at night.
Perhaps as a civil watch patrol member. And I know, that deep in your heart,
you prefer your soviet cafes. But somehow, you still come here! To "Mickey
Mouse" and old Joyce, - you must like something, right? That's why I am
proud of my establishment.
The barman caught his breath and raised his fat thumb.
- And another thing, - he said. - This very dirty notes, that you were
speaking about. In your crazy country everyone knows, that money - is dirt.
But in my country everyone knows that dirt - is, regrettably, not the same
as money. Money must be procured! For this our pilots fly, for this our
workers enlist. I am an old man, and, perhaps, because of that I cannot