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

his own counsel, said, "It's solid diamond underneath us. Hardest substance in
the world."
I shook my head and grinned. I could take being the butt of the joke.
"I'm not joshing you. The whole goddamn mountain is diamond, except for
the rock and stone above. And it's all owned by the Old Man, who isn't too
willing to share, which is why we're down here, and he's up there." Everyone
laughed at that, and Eddie just nodded toward the ceiling, as if some
omniscient being were standing right above us. Then after a pause, he asked,
"Did you happen to notice if your compass seemed to go wild when you
approached the mountain?"
"Yeah," I said. "But I figured it had been knocked out of whack."
"No, the same thing happened to me. None of the others remember
anything being wrong with their compasses, so I figure that the Old Man
concocted something new. An artificial magnetic field, or something like
that."
"Well, if he could change the official maps of the United States, he
could screw up our compasses, I suppose," Clarence said. I didn't figure him
to be the brightest of the bunch, but I couldn't help but like him. He seemed
genuinely concerned, and maybe it was the way he slouched or patted the chair,
I don't know, but for some reason I had the feeling that he was really at home
here. He turned to me and said, "Don't worry, you'll be meeting the Old Man
soon enough. And when you're ready, I'll give you the tour of the place and
help you get set up. Now you think you're ready to tell us your name and how
you came to be flyin' out here? You _were_ flyin'? -- "
I nodded and told them my name -- Paul Orsatti -- and I told them that
I was a mail pilot, which I'd been for a while, until I got myself fired from
New York Chicago Air Transport for being self-righteous; and I wasn't going to
tell them that I'd been kicking around for the past year as a roustabout stunt
flier, working for crummy outfits like Pitkin's Circle-Q Flying Circus. Or
that I'd been playing piano in cheapjack speakeasies for nothing more than
drinks and whatever change the Doras and ossified lounge lizards could spare.
I didn't tell them about Joel, and how he'd heard rumors about there being
something strange in the mountain near Hades. I only told them I'd gotten a
bit off-course -- next thing I knew I was being shot at.
And as if I'd been caught telling a lie by the Lord God Almighty
Himself, I heard a voice calling everyone to attention.
A broadcast from above.
****
"Well, boys," said God. "Don't you want to have a chat? My daughter's
accompanying me, so y'all better be on your best behavior, gentlemen. None of
your usual filthy street patois. Now shake a leg!"
Everyone started swearing and complaining, but they obediently moved
out of my room toward where the voice was probably coming from, and Skip
pulled me along, telling me that I might as well know my keeper and get it in
my head that I'm here and that's that and how it's not so bad, in fact,
probably better than we'd ever have it back home in the _real_ world.
We walked through a seamless corridor made of the same stuff as the
walls, floor, and ceiling of the room where I'd awakened. Dim, pervasive light
radiated wanly from the ceiling, and doorways were evenly spaced on both
sides. I caught glimpses into other rooms, some larger than others, some dark,