"Bester, Alfred - Demolished Man, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bester Alfred)

would ask Lincoln Powell an innocent question, and Dishonest Abe would answer.
His fervent imagination would cook up the wildest tall-story and he would
deliver it with straight-faced sincerity. He could not suppress the liar in him.

Only this afternoon, Police Commissioner Crabbe had inquired about a routine
blackmail case, and simply because he'd mispronounced a name, Powell had been
inspired to fabricate a dramatic account involving a make-believe crime, a
daring midnight raid, and the heroism of an imaginary Lieutenant Kopenick. Now
the Commissioner wanted to award Lieutenant Kopenick a medal.
"Dishonest Abe," Powell muttered bitterly. "You give me a stiff pain."
The house-bell chimed. Powell glanced at his watch in surprise (it was too early
for company) and then directed Open in C-sharp at the TP lock-sensor. It
responded to the thought pattern, as a tuning fork will vibrate to the right
note, and the front door slid open.
Instantly came a familiar sensory impact: Snow / mint / tulips / taffeta.
"Mary Noyes. Come to help the bachelor prepare for the party? Blessings!"
"Hoped you'd need me, Linc."
"Every host needs a hostess. Mary, what am I going to do for Canapes... ?"
"Just invented a new recipe. I'll make it for you. Roast chutney&."
"&?"
"Thats telling, my love."
She came into the kitchen, a short girl physically, but tall and swaying in
thought; a dark girl exteriorly, but frost white in pattern. Almost a nun in
white, despite the swarthy texture of externals; but the mind is the reality.
You are what you think.
"I wish I could re-think, darling. Have my psyche reground!"
"Change your (I kiss you as you are) self, Mary?"
"If I only (You never really do, Linc) could. I'm so tired of tasting you
tasting mint every time we meet."
"Next time I'll add brandy and ice. Shake well. Voilal Stinger-Mary."
"Do that. Also SNOW."
"Why strike out the snow? I love snow."
"But I love you."
"And I love you, Mary."
"Thanks, Linc." But he said it. He always said it. He never thought it. She
turned away quickly. The tears within her scalded him.
"Again, Mary?"
"Not again. Always. Always." And the deeper levels of her mind cried: "I love
you, Lincoln. I love you. Image of my father: Symbol of security: Of warmth: Of
protecting passion: Do not reject me always... always... forever..."
"Listen to me, Mary..."
"Don't talk. Please, Linc. Not in words. I couldn't bear it if words came
between us."
"You're my friend, Mary. Always. For every disappointment. For every elation."
"But not for love."
"No, dear heart. Don't let it hurt you so. Not for love."
"I have enough love, God pity me, for both of us."
"One, God pity us, is not enough for both, Mary."
"You must marry an Esper before you're forty, Linc. The Guild insists on that.
You know it."