"Dick, Philip K - Now Wait for Last Year v1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dick Phillip K)

Eric said, 'Never mind. Who's the guest?'


The great pale eyes of the woman had never seemed so large, so composed; they dominated and commanded with their utter inner universe of certitude. Of tranquillity created by absolute, unchanging knowledge of all that deserved to be known. 'Suppose we wait and see.' And then, not yet affecting the changelessness of her eyes, her lips began to dance with a wicked, teasing playfulness; a moment later a new and different spark ignited within her eyes and thereupon the expression of her entire face underwent a total change. 'The door,' she said wickedly, her eyes gleaming and intense, her mouth twitching in a mirth-ridden giggle almost that of an adolescent girl, 'flies open and there stands a silent delegate from Prox-ima. Ah, what a sight. A bloated greasy enemy reeg. Secretly, and incredibly because of Freneksy's snooping secret police, a reeg here officially to negotiate for aЧ' She broke off and then at last in a low monotone finished, 'Чa separate peace between us and them.' With a dark and moody expression, her eyes no longer lit by any spark whatsoever, she listlessly finished her drink. 'Yes, that'll be the day. How well I can picture it. Old Virgil sits in, beaming and crackling as usual. And sees his war contracts, every fnugging last one of them, slither down the drain. Back to fake mink. Back to the bat crap days ... when the whole factory stank to high heaven.' She laughed shortly, a brisk bark of derision. 'Any minute now, doctor. Oh sure.'


'Freneksy's cops,' Eric said, sharing her mood, 'as you pointed out yourself, would swoop down on Wash-35 so dalb fastЧ'


'I know. It's a fantasy, a wish-fulfilment dream. Born out of hopeless longing. So it hardly matters whether Virgil would decide to mastermind Ц and try to carry off Ц such an encounter or not, does it? Because it couldn't be done successfully in a million light-years. It could be tried. But not done.'


'Too bad,' Eric said, half to himself, deep in thought.


'Traitor! You want to be popped into the slave-labor pool?'


Eric, after pondering, said cautiously, 'I wantЧ'


'You don't know what you want, Sweetscent; every man involved in an unhappy marriage loses the metabiological capacity to know what he does want Ц it's been taken away from him. You're a smelly little shell, trying to do the correct thing but never quite making it because your miserable little long-suffering heart isn't in it. Look at you now! You've managed to squirm away from me.'


'Have not.'


'ЧSo we're no longer touching physically. Especially thigh-wise. Oh, perish thighwise from the universe. But it is hard, is it not, to do it, to squirm away in such close quarters ... here in the lounge. And yet you've managed to do it, haven't you?'


To change the subject Eric said, 'I heard on TV last night that the quatreologist with the funny beard, that Professor Wald, is back fromЧ'


'No. He's not Virgil's guest.'


'Marm Hastings, then?'


That Taoist spellbinding nut and crank and fool? You manufacturing a joke, Sweetscent? Is that it? You suppose Virgil would tolerate a marginal fake, thatЧ' She made an obscene upward-jerking gesture with her thumb, at the same time grinning in a show of her white, clean and very impressive clear teeth. 'Maybe,' she said, 'it's lan Norse.'


'Who's he?' He had heard the name; it had a vaguely familiar sound to it, and he knew that in asking her he was making a tactical error; still he did it: this, if anything, was his weakness in regard to women. He led where they followed Ц sometimes. But more than once, especially at critical times in his life, in the major junctions, he followed guilelessly where they led.


Phyllis sighed. 'lan's firm makes all those shiny sterile new very expensive artificial organs you cleverly graft into rich dying people; you mean, doctor, you're not clear as to whom you're indebted?'