"Asimov, Isaac - Buy Jupiter and Other Stories" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asimov Isaac)

"He knows nothing by heart. His writing is purely computation. Now, you simply recite a little of the piece so that he will be able to estimate the mood and compute the consequences of the first words."
Hoskins nodded, inflated his chest, and thundered, "White founts falling in the courts of the sun, and the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run. There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared; it stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard: it curls the blood-red crescent, the crescent of his lips; for the inmost sea of all the world is shaken by his ships-"
"That's enough." said Torgesson. There was silence as they waited. The monkey regarded the typewriter solemnly.
Torgesson said, "The process takes time, of course. Little Rollo has to take into account the romanticism of the poem, the slightly archaic flavor; the strong sing-song rhythm, and so on."
And then a black little finger reached out and touched a key. It was a t.
"He doesn't capitalize," said the scientist, "or punctuate, and his spacing isn't very reliable. That's why I usually retype his work when he's finished."
Little Rollo touched an h, then an e and a y. Then, after a longish pause, he tapped the space bar.
"They," said Hoskins. The words typed themselves out: "they have dared the white repub lics upthe capes of italy they have dashed the adreeatic roundthe lion of the sea; and the popehas throw n his arms abroa dfor agoni and loss and called the kings of chrissndom for sords about the cross."
"My God!" said Hoskins.
"That's the way the piece goes then?" asked Torgesson. "For the love of Pete!" said Hoskins.
"If it is, then Chesterton must have done a good, consistent job."
"Holy smokes!" said Hoskins.
"You see," said Marmie, massaging Hoskins's shoulder, "you see, you see, you see. You see," he added.
"I'll be damned," said Hoskins.
"Now look," said Marmie, rubbing his hair till it rose in clusters like a cockatoo's chest, "let's get to business. Let's tackle my story."
"Well but-"
"It will not be beyond little Rollo's capacity," Torgesson assured him. "I frequently read little Rollo parts of some of the better science fiction, including some of Marmie's tales. It's amazing how some of the yarns are improved."
"It's not that," said Hoskins. "Any monkey can write better SF than some of the hacks we've got. But the Tallinn story is thirteen thousand words long. It'll take forever for the monk to type it."
"Not at all, Mr. Hoskins, not at all. I shall read the story to him, and at the crucial point we will let him continue."
Hoskins folded his arms. "Then shoot. I'm ready."
"I," said Marmie, "am more than ready." And he folded his arms.
Little Rollo sat there, a furry little bundle of cataleptic misery, while Dr. Torgesson's soft voice rose and fell in cadence with a spaceship battle and the subsequent struggles of Earthmen captives to recapture their lost ship.
One of the characters made his way out to the spaceship hull, and Dr. Torgesson followed the flamboyant events in mild rapture. He read:
"...Stalny froze in the silence of the eternal stars. His aching knee tore at his consciousness as he waited for the monsters to hear the thud and-"
Marmie yanked desperately at Dr. Torgesson's sleeve. Torgesson looked up and disconnected little Rollo.
"That's it," said Marmie. "You see, Professor, it's just about here that Hoskins is getting his sticky little fingers into the works. I continue the scene outside the spaceship till Stalny wins out and the ship is back in Earth hands. Then I go into explanations. Hoskins wants me to break that outside scene, get back inside, halt the action for two thousand words, then get back out again. Ever hear such crud?"
"Suppose we let the monk decide," said Hoskins.
Dr. Torgesson turned little Rollo on, and a black shriveled finger reached hesitantly out to the typewriter. Hoskins and Marmie leaned forward simultaneously, their heads coming softly together just over little Rollo's brooding body. The typewriter punched out the letter t.
"T," encouraged Marmie, nodding. "T," agreed Hoskins.
The typewriter made an a, then went on at a more rapid rate: "take action stalnee waited in helpless hor ror forair locks toyawn and suited laroos to emerge relentlessly-"
"Word for word," said Marmie in raptures. "He certainly has your gooey style."
"The readers like it."
"They wouldn't if their average mental age wasn't-" Hoskins stopped.
"Go on," said Marmie, "say it. Say it. Say their IQ is that of a twelve-year-old child and I'll quote you in every fan magazine in the country."
"Gentlemen," said Torgesson, "gentlemen. You'll disturb little Rollo."
They turned to the typewriter, which was still tapping steadily: "-the stars whelled in ther mightie orb its as stalnees earthbound senses insis ted the rotating ship sto od still."
The typewriter carriage whipped back to begin a new line. Marmie held his breath. Here, if anywhere, would come-
And the little finger moved out and made: * Hoskins yelled, "Asterisk!"
"Marmie muttered, " Asterisk." Torgesson said, " Asterisk?"
A line of nine more asterisks followed.
"That's all, brother," said Hoskins. He explained quickly to the staring Torgesson, "With Marmie, it's a habit to use a line of asterisks when he wants to indicate a radical shift of scene. And a radical shift of scene is exactly what I wanted."
The typewriter started a new paragraph: "within the ship-"
"Turn it off, Professor," said Marmie.
Hoskins rubbed his hands. "When do I get the revision Marmie?"
Marmie said coolly, "What revision?"
"You said the monk's version."
"I sure did. It's what I brought you here to see. That little Rollo is a machine; a cold, brutal, logical machine."
"Well?"
"And the point is that a good writer is not a machine. He doesn't write with his mind, but with his heart. His heart." Marmie pounded his chest.
Hoskins groaned. "What are you doing to me, Marmie? If you give me that heart-and-soul-of-a-writer routine, I'll just be forced to turn sick right here and right now. Let's keep all this on the usual I'll-write-anything-for-money basis."