"Asimov, Isaac - Profession" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asimov Isaac)

ССWellЧТТ
УCome on, now. If youТre going to be a wise gu~ with me, letТs see what youТve done. YouТre still on Earth, I notice, so youТre not a Computer Programmer and your special assignment canТt be much.Ф
George said, УListen, Trev. IТm late for an appointment.Ф He backed away, trying to smile.
УNo, you donТt.Ф Trevelyan reached out fiercely, catching hold of GeorgeТs jacket. УYou answer my question. Why are you afraid to tell me? What is it with you? DonТt come here rubbing a bad showing in my face, George, unless you can take it, too. Do you hear me?Ф
He was shaking George in frenzy and they were struggling and swaying across the floor, when the Voice of Doom struck GeorgeТs ear in the form of a policemanТs outraged call.
УAll right now. All right. Break it up.Ф
GeorgeТs heart turned to lead and lurched sickeningly. The policeman would be taking names, asking to see identity cards, and George lacked one. He would be questioned and his lack of profession would show at once; and before Trevelyan, too, who ached with the pain of the drubbing he had taken and would spread the news back home as a salve for his own hurt feelings.
George couldnТt stand that. He broke away from Trevelyan and made to run, but the policemanТs heavy hand was on his shoulder. УHold on, there. LetТs see your identity card.Ф
Trevelyan was fumbling for his, saying harshly. УIТm Annand Trevelyan, Metallurgist, Nonferrous. I was just competing in the Olympics. You better find out about him, though, officer.Ф
George faced the two, lips dry and throat thickened past speech.
Another voice sounded, quiet, well-mannered. УOfficer. One moment.Ф
The policeman stepped back. УYes, sir?Ф
УThis young man is my guest. What is the trouble?Ф
George looked about in wild surprise. It was the gray-haired man who had been sitting next to him. Gray-hair nodded benignly at George.
Guest? Was he mad?
The policeman was saying, УThese two were creating a disturbance, sir.Ф
УAny criminal charges? Any damages?Ф
УNo, sir.ТТ
УWell, then, IТll be responsible.Ф He presented a small card to the policemanТs view and the latter stepped back at once.
Trevelyan began indignantly. УHold on, nowЧФ but the policeman turned on him.
УAll right now. Got any charges?Ф
ССI justЧТТ
УOn your way. The rest of youЧmove on.Ф A sizable crowd had gathered, which now, reluctantly, unknotted itself and raveled away.
George let himself be led to a skimmer but balked at entering. He said, УThank you, but IТm not your guest.Ф (Could it be a ridiculous case of mistaken identity?)
But Gray-hair smiled and said, УYou werenТt but you are now. Let me introduce myself, IТm Ladislas Ingenescu, Registered Historian.Ф
ССButЧТТ
УCome, you will come to no harm, I assure you. After all, I only wanted to spare you some trouble with a policeman.Ф
УBut why?Ф
УDo you want a reason? Well, then, say that weТre honorary townsmates, you and I. We both shouted for the same man, remember, and we townspeople must stick together, even if the tie is only honorary. Eh?Ф
And George, completely unsure of this man, Ingenescu, and of himself as well, found himself inside the skimmer. Before he could make up his mind that he ought to get off again, they were off the ground.
He thought confusedly: The man has some status. The policeman deferred to him.
He was almost forgetting that his real purpose here in San Francisco was not to find Trevelyan but to find some person with enough influence to force a reappraisal of his own capacity of Education.
It could be that Ingenescu was such a man. And right in GeorgeТs lap. Everything could be working out fineЧfine. Yet it sounded hollow in his thought. He was uneasy.

During the short skimmer-hop, Ingenescu kept up an even flow of small-talk, pointing out the landmarks of the city, reminiscing about past Olympics he had seen. George, who paid just enough attention to make vague sounds during the pauses, watched the route of flight anxiously.
Would they head for one of the shield-openings and leave the city altogether?
No, they headed downward, and George sighed his relief softly. He felt safer in the city.
The skimmer landed at the roof-entry of a hotel and, as he alighted, Ingenescu said, УI hope youТll eat dinner with me in my room?Ф
George said, УYes,Ф and grinned unaffectedly. He was just beginning to realize the gap left within him by missing lunch.
Ingenescu let George eat in silence. Night closed in and the wall lights went on automatically. (George thought: IТve been on my own almost twenty-four hours.)
And then over the coffee, Ingenescu finally spoke again. He said, УYouТve been acting as though you think I intend you harm.Ф
George reddened, put down his cup and tried to deny it, but the older man laughed and shook his head.
УItТs so. IТve been watching you closely since I first saw you and I think I know a great deal about you now.Ф
George half rose in horror.
Ingenescu said, УBut sit down. I only want to help you.Ф
George sat down but his thoughts were in a whirl. If the old man knew who he was, why had he not left him to the policeman? On the other hand, why should he volunteer help?
Ingenescu said, УYou want to know why I should want to help you? Oh, donТt look alarmed. I canТt read minds. ItТs just that my training enables me to judge the little reactions that give minds away, you see. Do you understand that?Ф
George shook his head.
Ingenescu said, УConsider my first sight of you. You were waiting in line to watch an Olympics, and your micro-reactions didnТt match what you were doing. The expression of your face was wrong, the action of your hands was wrong. It meant that something, in general, was wrong, and the interesting thing was that, whatever it was, it was nothing common, nothing obvious. Perhaps, I thought, it was something of which your own conscious mind was unaware.
УI couldnТt help but follow you, sit next to you. I followed you again when you left and eavesdropped on the conversation between your friend and yourself. After that, well, you were far too interesting an object of studyЧIТm sorry if that sounds cold-blooded----for me to allow you to be taken off by a policeman. ЧNow tell me, what is it that troubles you?Ф