"Double Star" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert Anson)ThreeI had never meddled in politics. My father had warned against it. «Stay out of it, Larry,» he had told me solemnly. «The publicity you get that way is bad publicity. The peasants don't like it.» I had never voted — not even after the amendment of `98 made it easy for the floating population (which includes, of course, most members of the profession) to exercise franchise. However, insofar as I had political leanings of any sort, they certainly did not lean toward Bonforte. I considered him a dangerous man and very possibly a traitor to the human race. The idea of standing up and getting killed in his place was — how shall I put it? — distasteful to me. But — what a role! I had once played the lead in I wondered who my colleagues had been who had been unable to resist that temptation on those earlier occasions. They had been artists, that was certain — though their very anonymity was the only tribute to the success of their characterizations. I tried to remember just when the earlier attempts on Bonforte's life had taken place and which colleagues who might have been capable of the role had died or dropped out of sight at those times. But it was useless. Not only was I not too sure of the details of current political history but also actors simply fade out of view with depressing frequency; it is a chancy profession even for the best of us. I found that I had been studying closely the characterization. I realized I could play it. Hell, I could play it with one foot in a bucket and a smell of smoke backstage. To begin with, there was no problem of physique; Bonforte and I could have swapped clothes without a wrinkle. These childish conspirators who had shanghaied me had vastly overrated the importance of physical resemblance, since it means nothing if not backed up by art — and need not be at all close if the actor is competent. But I admit that it does help and their silly game with the computer machine had resulted (quite by accident!) in selecting a true artist, as well as one who was in measurements and bony structure the twin of the politician. His profile was much like mine; even his hands were long, narrow, and aristocratic like mine — and hands are harder than faces. That limp, supposedly the result of one of the attempts on his life — nothing to it! After watching him for a few minutes I knew that I could get up from that bed (at one gravity, that is) and walk in precisely the same way and never have to think about it. The way he had of scratching his collarbone and then brushing his chin, the almost imperceptible tic which preceded each of his sentences — such things were no trouble; they soaked into my subconscious like water into sand. To be sure, he was fifteen or twenty years older than I was, but it is easier to play a role older than oneself than one younger. In any case, age to an actor is simply a matter of inner attitude; it has nothing to do with the steady march of catabolism. I could have played him on boards, or read a speech in his place, within twenty minutes. But this part, as I understood it, would be more than such an interpretation; Dak had hinted that I would have to convince people who knew him well, perhaps in intimate circumstances. This is surpassingly more difficult. Does he take sugar in his coffee? If so, how much? Which hand does he use to strike a cigarette and with what gesture? I got the answer to that one and planted it deep in my mind even as I phrased the question; the simulacrum in front of me struck a cigarette in a fashion that convinced me that he had used matches — and the old-fashioned sort of gasper — for years before he had gone along with the march of so-called progress. Worst of all, a man is not a single complexity; he is a Acting Then I recalled with glum conviction that my performance probably need be convincing only long enough for a marksman to draw a bead on me. But I was still studying the man I was to replace (what else could I do?) when the door opened and I heard Dak in his proper person call out, «Anybody home?» The lights came on, the three-dimensional vision faded, and I felt as if I had been wrenched from a dream. I turned my head; the young woman called Penny was struggling to lift her head from the other hydraulic bed and Dak was standing braced in the doorway. I looked at him and said wonderingly, «How do you manage to stand up?» Part of my mind, the professional part that works independently, was noting how he stood and filing it in a new drawer marked: «How a Man Stands under Two Gravities.» He grinned at me. «Nothing to it. I wear arch supports.» «Hmmmph!» «You can stand up, if you want to. Ordinarily we discourage passengers from getting out of the boost tanks when we are torching at anything over one and a half gees — too much chance that some idiot will fall over his own feet and break a leg. But I once saw a really tough weightlifter type climb out of the press and walk at five gravities — but he was never good for much afterwards. But two gees is okay — about like carrying another man piggyback.» He glanced at the young lady. «Giving him the straight word, Penny?» «He hasn't asked anything yet.» «So? Lorenzo, I thought you were the lad who wanted all the answers.» I shrugged. «I cannot now see that it matters, since it is evident that I will not live long enough to appreciate them.» «Eh? What soured your milk, old son?» «Captain Broadbent,» I said bitterly, «I am inhibited in expressing myself by the presence of a lady; therefore I cannot adequately discuss your ancestry, personal habits, morals, and destination. Let it stand that I knew what you had tricked me into as soon as I became aware of the identity of the man I am to impersonate. I will content myself with one question only: who is about to attempt to assassinate Bonforte? Even a clay pigeon should be entitled to know who is shooting at him.» For the first time I saw Dak register surprise. Then he laughed so hard that the acceleration seemed to be too much for him; he slid to the deck and braced his back against a bulkhead, still laughing. «I don't see anything funny about it,» I said angrily. He stopped and wiped his eyes. «Lorrie old son, did you honestly think that I had set you up as a sitting duck?» «It's obvious.» I told him my deductions about the earlier assassination attempts. He had the sense not to laugh again. «I see. You thought it was a job about like food taster for a Middle Ages king. Well, we'll have to try to straighten you out; I don't suppose it helps your acting to think that you are about to be burned down where you stand. Look, I've been with the Chief for six years. During that time She looked at me coldly. «Never. The very idea that the Chief would let anybody expose himself to danger in his place is — well, I ought to slap your face; that's what I ought to do!» «Take it easy, Penny,» Dak said mildly. «You've both got jobs to do and you are going to have to work with him. Besides, his wrong guess isn't too — silly, not from the outside. By the way, Lorenzo, this is Penelope Russell. She is the Chief's personal secretary, which makes her your number-one coach.» «I am honored to meet you, mademoiselle.» «I wish I could say the same!» «Stow it, Penny, or I'll spank your round fanny — at two gravities. Lorenzo, I concede that doubling for John Joseph Bonforte isn't as safe as riding in a wheel chair — shucks, as we both know, several attempts have been made to close out his life insurance. But that is not what we are afraid of this time. Matter of fact, this time, for political reasons you will presently understand, the laddies we are up against won't dare to try to kill the Chief — or to kill you when you are doubling for the Chief. They are playing rough — as you He studied my face. «Well?» I shook my head. «I don't follow you.» «No, but you will. It is a complicated matter, involving Martian ways of looking at things. Take it for granted; you'll know all about it before we get there.» I still did not like it. Thus far Dak had told me no outright lies that I knew of — but he could lie effectively by not telling all that he knew, as I had learned the bitter way, I said, «See here, I have no reason to trust you, or to trust this young lady — if you will pardon me, miss. But while I haven't any liking for Mr. Bonforte, he does have the reputation for being painfully, even offensively, honest. When do I get to talk to Dak's ugly, cheerful face was suddenly shadowed with sadness. I'm afraid not. Didn't Penny tell you?» 'Tell me what?» «Old son, that's why we've got to have a double for the Chief. They've kidnapped him.» My head ached, possibly from the double weight, or perhaps from too many shocks. «Now you know,» Dak went on. «You know why Jock Dubois didn't want to trust you with it until after we raised ground. It is the biggest news story since the first landing on the Moon, and we are sitting on it, doing our damnedest to keep it from ever being known. We hope to use you until we can find him and get him back. Matter of fact, you have already started your impersonation. This ship is not really the I admit that I did not. «Yes, but — see here, Captain, if Mr. Bonforte's political enemies have kidnapped him, why keep it secret? I should expect you to shout it from the housetops.» «On Earth we would. At New Batavia we would. On Venus we would. But here we are dealing with Mars. Do you know the legend of Kkkahgral the Younger?» «Eh? I'm afraid I don't.» «You must study it; it will give you insight into what makes a Martian tick. Briefly, this boy Kkkah was to appear at a certain time and place, thousands of years ago, for a very high honor — like being knighted. Through no fault of his own (the way we would look at it) he failed to make it on time. Obviously the only thing to do was to kill him — by Martian standards. But because of his youth and his distinguished record some of the radicals present argued that he should be allowed to go back and start over. But Kkkahgral would have none of it. He insisted on his right to prosecute the case himself, won it, and was executed. Which makes him the very embodiment, the patron saint, of propriety on Mars.» «That's crazy!» «Is it? We aren't Martians. They are a very old race and they have worked out a system of debts and obligations to cover every possible situation — the greatest formalists conceivable. Compared with them, the ancient Japanese, with their I still did not. To my mind this Kkkah character was one of the more loathsome items from Dak left as suddenly as he had appeared and Penelope Russell turned on the picture projector again. It occurred to me fretfully that I should have asked him what was to keep our enemies from simply killing But shortly I was again studying Bonforte, watching his movements and gestures, feeling his expressions, subvocalizing the tones of his voice, while floating in that detached, warm reverie of artistic effort. Already I was «wearing his head.» I was panicked out of it when the images shifted to one in which Bonforte was surrounded by Martians, touched by their pseudo limbs. I had been so deep inside the picture that I could actually feel them myself — and the stink was unbearable. I made a strangled noise and clawed at it.« The lights came up and the picture disappeared. Miss Russell was looking at me. «What in the world is the matter with you?» I tried to get my breath and stop trembling. «Miss Russell — I am very sorry — but please don't turn that on again. I can't She looked at me as if she could not believe what she saw but despised it anyhow. «I told them,» she said slowly and scornfully, «that this «I am very sorry. I cannot help it.» She did not answer but climbed heavily out of the cider press. She did not walk as easily at two gravities as Dak did, but she managed. She left without another word, closing the door as she went. She did not return. Instead the door was opened by a man who appeared to be inhabiting a giant kiddie stroller. «Howdy there, young fellow!» he boomed out. He was sixtyish, a bit too heavy, and bland; I did not have to see his diploma to be aware that his was a «bedside» manner. «How do you do, sir?» 'Well enough. Better at lower acceleration.» He glanced down at the contrivance he was strapped into. «How do you like my corset-on-wheels? Not stylish, perhaps, but it takes some of the strain off my heart. By the way, just to keep the record straight, I'm Dr. Capek, Mr. Bonforte's personal therapist. I know who you are. Now what's this we hear about you and Martians? I tried to explain it clearly and unemotionally. Dr. Capek nodded. «Captain Broadbent should have told me. I would have changed the order of your indoctrination program. The captain is a competent young fellow in his way I answered, «You have my permission readily, sir — but it won't do any good. I can't go under.» I had learned hypnotic techniques myself during the time I was showing my mentalist act, but my teachers had never had any luck hypnotizing me. A touch of hypnotism is very useful to such an act, especially if the local police aren't too fussy about the laws the medical association has hampered us with. «So? Well, we'll just have to do the best we can, then. Suppose you relax, get comfortable, and we'll talk about your problem.» He still kept the watch in his hand, fiddling with it and twisting the chain, after he had stopped taking my pulse. I started to mention it, since it was catching the reading light just over my head, but decided that it was probably a nervous habit of which he was not aware and really too trivial a matter to call to the attention of a stranger «I'm relaxed,» I assured him. «Ask me anything you wish. Or free association, if you prefer.» «Just let yourself float,» he said softly. «Two gravities makes you feel heavy, doesn't it? I usually just sleep through it myself. It pulls the blood out of the brain, makes one sleepy. They are beginning to boost the drive again. We'll all have to sleep ... We'll be heavy ... We'll have to sleep...» I started to tell him that he had better put his watch away — or it would spin right out of his hand. Instead I fell asleep. When I woke up, the other acceleration bunk was occupied by Dr. Capek. «Howdy, bub,» he greeted me. «I got tired of that confounded perambulator and decided to stretch out here and distribute the strain.» «Uh, are we back on two gravities again?» «Eh? Oh yes! We're on two gravities.» «I'm sorry I blacked out. How long was I asleep?» «Oh, not very long. How do you feel?» «Fine. Wonderfully rested, in fact.» «It frequently has that effect. Heavy boost, I mean. Feel like seeing some more pictures?» «Why, certainly, if you say so, Doctor.» «Okay.» He reached up and again the room went dark. I was braced for the notion that he was going to show me more pictures of Martians; I made up my mind not to panic. After all, I had found it necessary on many occasions to pretend that they were not present; surely motion pictures of them should not affect me — I had simply been surprised earlier. They were indeed stereos of Martians, both with and without Mr. Bonforte. I found it possible to study them with detached mind, without terror or disgust. Suddenly I realized that I was I let out some exclamation and Capek stopped the film. «Trouble?» «Doctor — you hypnotized me!» «You told me to.» «But I can't be hypnotized.» «Sorry to hear it.» «Uh — so you managed it. I'm not too dense to see that.» I added, «Suppose we try those pictures again. I can't really believe it.» He switched them on and I watched and wondered. Martians were not disgusting, if one looked at them without prejudice; they weren't even ugly. In fact, they possessed the same quaint grace as a Chinese pagoda. True, they were not human in form, but neither is a bird of paradise — and birds of paradise are the loveliest things alive. I began to realize, too, that their pseudo limbs could be very expressive; their awkward gestures showed some of the bumbling friendliness of puppies. I knew now that I had looked at Martians all my life through the dark glasses of hate and fear. Of course, I mused, their stench would still take getting used to, but — and then I suddenly realized that I was smelling them, the unmistakable odor — and I didn't mind it a bit! In fact, I liked it. «Doctor!» I said urgently. «This machine has a “smellie” attachment — doesn't it?» «Eh? I believe not. No, I'm sure it hasn't — too much parasitic weight for a yacht.» «But it must. I can smell them very plainly.» «Oh, yes.» He looked slightly shamefaced. «Bub, I did one thing to you that I hope will cause you no inconvenience.» «Sir?» «While we were digging around inside your skull it became evident that a lot of your neurotic orientation about Martians was triggered by their body odor. I didn't have time to do a deep job so I had to offset it. I asked Penny — that's the youngster who was in here before — for a loan of some of the perfume she uses. I'm afraid that from here on out, bub, Martians are going to smell like a Parisian house of joy to you. If I had had time I would have used some homelier pleasant odor, like ripe strawberries or hot cakes and syrup. But I had to improvise.» I sniffed. Yes, it did smell like a heavy and expensive perfume — and yet, damn it, it was unmistakably the reek of Martians. «I like it.» «You can't help liking it.» «But you must have spilled the whole bottle in here. The place is drenched with it.» «Huh? Not at all. I merely waved the stopper under your nose a half hour ago, then gave the bottle back to Penny and she went away with it.» He sniffed. «The odor is gone now. “Jungle Lust,” it said on the bottle. Seemed to have a lot of musk in it. I accused Penny of trying to make the crew space-happy and she just laughed at me.» He reached up and switched off the stereopix. «We've had enough of those for now. I want to get you onto something more useful.» When the pictures faded out, the fragrance faded with them, just as it does with smellie equipment. I was forced to admit to myself that it was all in the head. But, as an actor, I was intellectually aware of that truth anyhow. When Penny came back in a few minutes later, she had a fragrance exactly like a Martian. I loved it. |
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