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

VVGF ........ INFORMATION
WWHG ........ ACCEPT OFFER
XXJH ........ GENERALLY KNOWN
YYJI ........ SUGGEST
ZZXJ ........ CONFIDENTIAL
AALK ........ EQUAL
BBML ........ CONTRACT
Marking his place in the code book, Reich flipped the v-phone on and said to the
image of the interoffice operator: "Get me Code."
The screen dazzled and cut to a smokey room cluttered with books and coils of
tape. A bleached man in a faded shirt glanced at the screen, then leaped to
attention.
"Yes, Mr. Reich?"
"Morning, Hassop. You look like you need a vacation." Make your enemies by
choice. "Take a week at Spaceland. Monarch expense."
"Thank you, Mr. Reich. Thank you very much."
"This one's confidential. To Craye D'Courtney. Send..." Reich consulted the Code
Book. "Send YYJI TTED RRCB UUFE AALK QQBA. Get the answer to me like rockets.
Right?"
"Right, Mr. Reich. I'll jet."
Reich cut off the phone. He jabbed his hand once into the pile of papers and
crystals on his desk, picked up a crystal and dropped it into the play-back. His
chief secretary's voice said: "Monarch Gross off two points one one three four
per cent. D'Courtney Gross up two point one one three oh per cent..."
"God damn him!" Reich growled. "Out of my pocket into his." He snapped off the
play-back and arose in an agony of impatience. It would take hours for the reply
to come. His whole life hung on D'Courtney's reply. He left his office and began
to roam through the floors and departments of Monarch Tower, pretending the
remorseless personal supervision he usually exercised. His Esper secretary
unobtrusively accompanied him like a trained dog.
"Trained bitch!" Reich thought. Then aloud: "I'm sorry. Did you peep that?"
"Quite all right, Mr. Reich. I understand."
"Do you? I don't. Damn D'Courtney!"
In Personnel they were testing, checking, and screening the usual mass of job
applicants... clerks, craftsmen, specialists, middle bracket executives, top
echelon experts. All of the preliminary elimination was done with standardized
tests and interviews, and never to the satisfaction of Monarch's Esper Personnel
Chief who was stalking through the floor in an icy rage when Reich entered. The
fact that Reich's secretary had sent an advance telepathic announcement of the
visit made no difference to him.
"I have allotted ten minutes per applicant for my final screening interview,"
the Chief was snapping to an assistant. "Six per hour, forty-eight per day.
Unless my percentage of final rejections drops below thirty-five, I am wasting
my time; which means you are wasting Monarch's time. I am not employed by
Monarch to screen out the obviously unsuitable. That is your work. See to it."
He turned to Reich and nodded pedantically. "Good morning, Mr. Reich."
"Morning. Trouble?"
"Nothing that cannot be handled once this staff understands that Extra Sensory
Perception is not a miracle but a skill subject to wage-hour limitations. And
what is your decision on Blonn, Mr. Reich?"