"Jack Dann - The Diamond Pit" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dann Jack)

right hand at me. "I prefer Madam Palm."
"Can't God up there help you out with some women?"
Skip laughed and said, "Old Jefferson's very prim and proper. You heard
him. The choice is wives or girlfriends, or nothin' -- and he'd make you marry
your girlfriend, sure as shit, not that it would matter, anyway, 'cause once
they got here, they wouldn't have any choice. They'd be stuck here forever
amen like we are. And who knows how dangerous it would be for them, what with
all the other guys. We asked Jefferson if we could borrow some of his slave
girls, although we never saw them, but he doesn't believe in whorin' and
promiscuity, as he calls it, and, anyway, according to him, he wouldn't misuse
his slaves."
"How does he keep slaves? It's 1923, for Chrissakes, not 1823."
Skip shrugged. "There's all kind of stories. George Bernard, who's been
here the longest -- over twenty years -- probably knows, but he ain't saying.
You didn't meet George. He's sort of a hermit, doesn't even go to the tower
when the old man calls. He don't talk to no one. He wasn't no flier, that's
for sure, but, like I said, he don't talk. You got to respect that, I figure.
Anyway, none of us talk about the slaves since Lowell Legendre was poisoned --
now he _was_ a pilot, shot down just like the rest of us, only he could speak
a couple of languages. He had your room, come to think of it. Anyway, he said
he was learning how to talk slave-talk from one of the slaves who brung the
food. That must have been some trick, 'cause I've never met any of the old
man's slaves who could speak or understand one word of English. Lowell said he
was getting the hang of it, though, and that once he'd figured it all out,
he'd know what was going on and maybe we could figure a way out of here. But
he got sick after eating dinner -- it was terrible, worse than my mother --
and we tried calling for someone to get us some help. But the old man and his
slaves suddenly got deaf, dumb, and blind. We didn't get any food after that
for a week. All we had was water. And after that, all the slaves that had
anything to do with us were new. So probably best not to get too curious about
them. You'll see your share."
"I want to meet this George Bernard," I said.
"I'll show you his room," Skip said, "but he won't let you in. I once
-- "
I made a dash for Skip's toilet, but didn't make it.
When I came around again, still hung-over with a blinding headache and
a mouth that tasted like it was full of metal shavings and dirt, I was back in
my room.
Old Skip must have found new reserves of strength. Or a few buddies.
****
 George Bernard _did_ receive me, as if he wasn't a prisoner like the
rest of us, but a guest with special privileges. However, I waited before
knocking on his door, which was a football field away from the rest of us.
I got to know my fellow inmates. I spent time in the "sun room" with
Snap Geraldson discussing Edward Egan and Sam Mosberg, who took gold in the
Lightweight and Light Heavyweight categories respectively at the Antwerp
Olympics in '20. It was like discussing boxing with the Buddha. I played
ping-pong with Carl Crocker and pool with Keith Boardman and Harry Talmadge,
who wanted to be brought up to date on current events; and we argued over the
Sacco and Vanzetti convictions. I swam every day in the pool, usually with