"John DeChancie - Skyway 2 - Red Limit Freeway" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dechancie John)

"Mostly English speakers here," he said. "English, Canadian, Aussie, lots of Irish, a few other breeds.
You American stock?"
"Yes, but it's been a long time since I thought of myself as American."
He nodded. "Time marches on. One day we'll all be sabra." He turned the registration book around.
"Anyway, I do hope you enjoy your stay here at the Bandersnatch-if you'll sign right here. You all
together?"
I signed. "Yes. What's the local industry around here?"
His eyes twinkled again. "Would it surprise you if I said logging?"
"Not a bit." I looked back at the crowd of burly young men. Everyone seemed cast to type.
He gave me our room keys. They were made of hand-wrought iron. Only two; Winnie and the women in
one room, the men in the other. It was my idea. Talltree was part of the Outworlds, and my leftover
Consolidation Gold Certificates were still good, but 1 wanted to economize. I had only a limited amount
of gold to trade. The nightly room rates were fairly cheap, though.
"Any way of getting a bite to eat?" I asked.
"It's a little early for the dining room, sir. Our cook's building a flume this week. But the Blade has a
separate kitchen and plenty of food. Most of the guests take breakfast and lunch in there. However, you
might find it a bit crowded now."
"What's this?" I asked above the noise. "A luncheon party?"
"No, today's a holiday. Feast of St. Charles Dodgson." He gave me a knowing wink. "The celebration
got started early. Like three days ago."
"Feast of St. Charles.. ." John began, then broke out laughing. We all did. On the multiple
nationality-ethnic-religious worlds of the Skyway, nobody could agree on what holidays to celebrate.
Back in Terran Maze, those officially proclaimed by the Colonial Authority were scoffmgly ignored,
except by bureaucrats, who took off work. A tradition had arisen to celebrate spurious ones, silly ones,
just for fun. People need excuses to goof off, though the thinnest will serve.
"Soon as you freshen up," the clerk continued, "you can join the festivities, if you-"
I was looking at the merrymakers, then turned back to the clerk. He was staring at the registry book, into
which I had just signed my name.
He looked up at me. "Is that really your name?"
"The alias I use most." When he didn't laugh, I said, "Just kidding. Sure, it's my name."
"You're Jake McGraw? The Jake McGraw?"
Again, my inexplicable fame had checked in before I had. "I'm the only one I know of."
"You have an onboard computer named Sam?"
"Yup."
"I see," he said, nodding thoughtfully. He turned away, but kept eyeing me askance, as if he weren't sure
about something. That was his problem. But what he would finally believe might be mine.
?3

OUR ROOMS ON the second floor were primitive, but again there was antique charm in the rough wall
paneling, the quaint lamps, the handmade furniture-beds, nightlamps, armoires, and chairs. The beds
were especially nice, with simple floral carvings on the headboards. However, Susan didn't like hers.
"Lumpy as hell," she griped, "and the sheets are gray."
"Be patient, Princess," Roland teased. "We'll get the pea out from under the mattress later."
"Everyone I know is a comedian. Let's go eat."
They all went downstairs. There was a mirror behind the door to the room, and I paused to look myself
over. I was wearing what is for me formal dress: my maroon starrigger's Jacket with its jazzy piping,
rakish cut, and little pockets with rippers all over the place. Usually, my attire is medium-slovenly, but all
my casual clothes had been left behind on various planets. This jacket and the fatigue pants were about
all I had left, except for shorts and things I wear when lounging about the rig. The jacket made me feel
faintly ridiculous. I looked like a goddamn space cadet.