"Adams, Douglas - Dirk Gently 01 - Holistic Detective Agency" - читать интересную книгу автора (Adams Douglas)

particular brick that he found interesting. 'But what sort of study is
it supposed to be?' Richard had pursued. 'Is it history? Physics?
Philosophy? What?'
'Well,' said Reg, slowly, 'since you're interested, the chair was
originally instituted by King George III, who, as you know, entertained
a number of amusing notions, including the belief that one of the trees
in Windsor Great Park was in fact Frederick the Great.
'It was his own appointment, hence "Regius". His own idea as well,
which is somewhat more unusual.'
Sunlight played along the River Cam. People in punts happily shouted
at each other to fuck off. Thin natural scientists who had spent months
locked away in their rooms growing white and fishlike, emerged blinking
into the light. Couples walking along the bank got so excited about the
general wonderfulness of it all that they had to pop inside for an
hour.
'The poor beleaguered fellow,' Reg continued, 'George III, I mean,
was, as you may know, obsessed with time. Filled the palace with
clocks. Wound them incessantly. Sometimes would get up in the middle of
the night and prowl round the palace in his nightshirt winding clocks.
He was very concerned that time continued to go forward, you see. So
many terrible things had occurred in his life that he was terrified
that any of them might happen again if time were ever allowed to slip
backwards even for a moment. A very understandable fear, especially if
you're barking mad, as I'm afraid to say, with the very greatest
sympathy for the poor fellow, he undoubtedly was. He appointed me, or
rather I should say, my office, this professorship, you understand, the
post that I am now privileged to hold to -- where was I? Oh yes. He
instituted this, er, Chair of Chronology to see if there was any
particular reason why one thing happened after another and if there was
any way of stopping it. Since the answers to the three questions were,
I knew immediately, yes, no, and maybe, I realised I could then take
the rest of my career off.'
'And your predecessors?'
'Er, were much of the same mind.'
'But who were they?'
'Who were they? Well, splendid fellows of course, splendid to a man.
Remind me to tell you about them some day. See that brick? Wordsworth
was once sick on that brick. Great man.'
All that had been about ten years ago.
Richard glanced around the great dining hall to see what had changed
in the time, and the answer was, of course, absolutely nothing. In the
dark heights, dimly seen by the flickering candlelight, were the
ghostly portraits of prime ministers, archbishops, political reformers
and poets, any of whom might, in their day, have been sick on that same
brick.
'Well,' said Reg, in a loudly confidential whisper, as if
introducing the subject of nipple-piercing in a nunnery, 'I hear you've
suddenly done very well for yourself, at last, hmmm?'
'Er, well, yes, in fact,' said Richard, who was as surprised at the
fact as anybody else, 'yes, I have.'