"Dick, Philip K - Martian Time Slip v1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dick Phillip K)

And yet, although it did not show, he was certain that the long trip from Earth had tired Leo out more than he admitted. In any case, they were almost at the house, now. The gyrocompass reading was point 7.08054; they were only minutes away.
When they had parked on the roof of the house, and had gone downstairs, Leo at once fulfilled his promise; in the kitchen he set to work, joyfully making each of them a kosher corned-beef sandwich on Jewish bread. Soon they were all seated in the living room, eating. Everyone was peaceful and relaxed.
"You just don't know how we're starved for food of this sort," Silvia said finally. "Even on the black market--" She glanced at Jack.
"Sometimes you can pick up delicatessen foods on the black market," Jack said, "although lately it's gotten harder. We don't, personally. No moral reason: it's just too expensive."
They talked for a while, finding out about Leo's trip and about conditions back Home. David was sent to bed at tenthirty, and then, at eleven, Silvia excused herself and went to bed, too. Leo and Jack were left in the living room, still sitting, just the two of them.
Leo said, "Can we step outside and take a glance at the boy's garden? You got a big flashlight?"
Finding his trouble-lantern, Jack led the way out of the house and into the cold night air.
As they stood at the edge of the patch of corn, Leo said to him in a low voice, "How are you and Silvia getting along these days?"
"Fine," Jack said, a little taken aback by the question.
"Seems to me there's a coolness between the two of you," Leo said. "It sure would be terrible, Jack, if you grew apart. That's a fine woman you got there--one in a million."
"I recognize that," Jack said uncomfortably.
"Back Home," Leo said, "when you were a young fellow, you always played around a lot. But I know you're settled down, now."
"I am," Jack said. "And I think you're imagining things."
"You do seem withdrawn, Jack," his father said. "I hope that old trouble of yours, you know what I mean, isn't bothering you. I'm talking about--"
"I know what you're talking about."
Relentlessly, Leo went on, "When I was a boy there was no mental illness like there is now. It's a sign of the times; too many people, too much overcrowding. I remember when you first got sick, and a long time before that, say from when you were seventeen on, you were cold toward other people, uninterested in them. Moody, too. Seems to me you're like that, now."
Jack glared at his father. This was the trouble with having one's folks visit; they could never resist the temptation to resume their old roles as the All-wise, the All-knowing. To Leo, Jack was not a grown man with a wife and child; he was simply his son Jack.
"Look, Leo," Jack said. "Out here there are very few people; this is a sparsely settled planet, as yet. Naturally, people here are less gregarious; they have to be more innerdirected than back Home where it's like you said, just a mobscene day after day."
Leo nodded. "Hmm. But that should make you more glad to see fellow humans."
"If you're referring to yourself, I'm very glad to see you."
"Sure, Jack," Leo said, "I know. Maybe I'm just tired. But you don't seem to say much; you're preoccupied."
"My work," Jack said. "This boy Manfred, this autistic child--I have that on my mind all the time."
But, as in the old days, his father could see through his pretexts effortlessly, with true parental instinct. "Come on, boy," Leo said. "You got a lot on your mind, but I know how you work; your job is with your hands, and I'm talking about your mind, it's your mind that's turned inward. Can you get that psychotherapy business here on Mars? Don't tell me no, because I know better."
"I'm not going to tell you no," Jack said, "but I will tell you that it's none of your goddamn business."
Beside him in the darkness his father seemed to shrink, to settle. "O.K., boy," he murmured. "Sorry I butted in."
They were both uncomfortably silent.
"Hell," Jack said, "let's not quarrel, Dad. Let's go back inside and have a drink or something and then turn in. Silvia fixed up a good soft bed for you in the other bedroom; I know you'll have a good rest."
"Silvia's very attentive to a person's needs," Leo said, with a faint note of accusation toward his son. Then his voice softened as he said, "Jack, I always worry about you. Maybe I'm old-fashioned and don't understand about this--mental illness business; everybody seems to have it nowadays; it's common, like flu and polio used to be, like when we were kids and almost everybody caught measles. Now you have this. One out of every three, I heard on TV, one time. Skizo--whatever. I mean, Jack, with so much to live for, why would anyone turn his back on life, like these skizo people do. It doesn't make sense. You got a whole planet to conquer, here. Tomorrow, for instance, I'm going with you to the F.D.R. Mountains, and you can show me around all over, and then I've got all the details on legal procedure here; I'm going to be buying. Listen: You buy in, too, you hear me? I'll advance you the money." He grinned hopefully at Jack, showing his stainless-steel teeth.
"It's not my cup of tea," Jack said. "But thanks."
"I'll pick out the parcel for you," Leo offered.
"No. I'm just not interested."
"You--enjoying your job, now, Jack? Making this machine to talk to the little boy who can't speak? Sounds like a worthy occupation; I'm proud to hear about it. David is a swell kid, and boy, is he proud of his dad."
"I know he is," Jack said.
"David doesn't show any signs of that skizo thing, does he?"
"No," Jack said.
Leo said, "I don't know where you got yours, certainly not from me--I love people."
"I do, too," Jack said. He wondered how his father would act if he knew about Doreen. Probably Leo would be griefstricken; he came from a strait-laced generation--born in 1924, a long, long time ago. It was a different world, then. Amazing, how his father had adapted to this world, now; a miracle. Leo, born in the boom period following World War One, and now standing here on the edge of the Martian desert . . . but he still would not understand about Doreen, about how vital it was for him to maintain an intimate contact of this sort, at any cost; or rather, almost any cost.
"What's her name?" Leo said.
"W-what?" Jack stammered.
"I got a little of that telepathic sense," Leo said in a toneless voice. "Don't I?"
After a pause, Jack said, "Evidently."
"Does Silvia know?"
"No."
"I could tell because you didn't look me in the eye."
"Balls," Jack said fiercely.
"Is she married, too? She got kids, too, this other woman you're mixed up with?"
Jack said in as level a voice as possible, "Why don't you use your telepathic sense and find out?"
"I just don't want to see Silvia hurt," Leo said.
"She won't be," Jack said.
"Too bad," Leo said, "to come all this way and find out something like this. Well--" He sighed. "I got my business, anyhow. Tomorrow you and I'll get up good and early and get started."