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

"@kins! Chervil! Tate! Have a heart! Will you people take a look at the pattern
(?) we've been weaving..."
The TP chatter stopped. The guests considered for a moment, then burst into
laughter.
"This reminds me of my days in the kindergarten. A little mercy for your host,
please. I'll jump my tracks, if we keep on weaving this mish-mash. Lets have
some order. I don't even ask for beauty."
"Just name the pattern, Linc."
"What'll you have?"
"Basket-weave? Math curves? Music? Architectural design?"
"Anything. Anything. Just so long as you don't make my brains itch."

Sorry, Lincoln. We weren't party-minded Enough
Tate thought Esper
but Alan Men
I'm Seaver remaining
Not that a Pres was ever elected still unmarried
at coming can
liberty but ruin
To be generous, I feel Al's a man to loa the
reveal don't Guild's
anything TP entire
about him eugenic
D'Courtney if arriving according to plan
yet

There was another burst of laughter when Mary Noyes was left hanging with that
unreticulated "yet." The door-bell chimed again, and a Solar Equity Advocate 2
entered with his girl. She was a demure little thing, surprisingly attractive
outwardly, and new to the company. Her TP pattern was naive and not deeply
responsive. Obviously a 3rd.
"Grettings. Greetings. Abject apologies for the delay. Orange blossoms & wedding
rings are the excuse. I proposed on the way over."
"And I'm afraid I accepted," the girl said, smiling.
"Don't talk," the lawyer shot at her. "This isn't a 3rd Class brawl, I told you
not to use words."
"I forgot," she blurted again, and then heated the room with her fright and
shame. Powell stepped forward and took the girl's trembling hand.
"Ignore him, he's a 2nd-come-lately snob. I'm Lincoln Powell, your host. I
Sherlock for the cops. If your fiance beats you, I'll help him regret it. Come
and meet your fellow freaks..." He conducted her around the room. "This is Gus
Tate, a quack-one. Next to him, Sam & Sally @kins. Sam's another of the same.
She's a baby-sitter-two. They're just in from Venus. Here on a visit..."
"H-How---I mean, how do you do?"
"That fat man sitting on the floor is Wally Chervil, architect-two. The blonde
sitting in his (lap)Э is June, his wife. June's an editor-two. That's their son,
Galen, talking to Ellery West. Gally's a tech-undergrad-three..."
Young Galen Chervil indignantly started to point out that he'd just been classed
2nd and hadn't needed to use words in over a year. Powell cut him off and below