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

the girl's perceptive threshold explained the reason for the deliberate mistake.

"Oh," said Galen. "Yep, brother and sister 3rds, that's us. And am I glad you're
here. These deep peepers were beginning to scare me."
"Oh, I don't know. I was scared at first, but I'm not any more."
"And this is your hostess, Mary Noyes."
"Hello, Canapes?"
"Thank you. They look delicious, Mrs. Powell."
"Now how about a game?" Powell interposed quickly. "Rebus, anyone?"
Outside, huddled in the shadow of the limestone arch, Jerry Church pressed
against the garden door of Powel's house, listening with all his soul. He was
cold, silent, immobile, and starved. He was resentful, hating, contemptuous, and
starved. He was an Esper 2 and starved. The bend sinister of ostracism was the
source of his hunger.
Through the thin maple panel filtered the multiple TP pattern of the party; a
weaving, ever-changing, exhilarating design. And Church, Esper 2, living on a
sub-marginal diet of words for the past ten years, was starved for his own
people---for the Esper world he had lost.
"The reason I mentioned D'Courtney is that I've just come across a case that
might be similar."
That was Augustus Tate, sucking up to @kins.
"Oh really? Very interesting. I'd like to compare notes. Matter of fact, I made
the trip to Terra because D'Courtney is coming here. Too bad D'Courtney
won't---well, be available." @kins was obviously being discreet and it smelled
as though Tate was after something. Maybe not, Church speculated, but there was
some elegant block and counter-blocking going on, like duellists fencing with
complicated electrical circuits.
"Look here, peeper, I think you've been pretty snotty to that poor girl."
"Listen to him shoot off his mind," Church muttered. "Powell, that holy louse
who had me kicked out, preaching down his big nose at the lawyer."
"Poor girl? You mean dumb girl, Powell. My God! How gauche can you get?"
"She's only a 3rd. Be fair."
"She gives me a pain."
"Do you think it's decent... marrying a girl when you feel that way about her?"
"Don't be a romantic ass, Powell. We've got to marry peepers. I might as well
settle for a pretty face."
The Rebus game was going on in the living room. The Noyes girl was busy building
a camouflaged image with an old poem:

The vast,
sea and
is out Glimmering
calm in the stand,
tonight, tranquil bay England
The Come to the window of
tide sweet is the night cliffs
is air. Only the
full from the gone;
the long line is
moon of spray and