"Dick, Philip K - Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch v1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dick Phillip K)

УIТm going to beat it.Ф
УSure you are. Everyone does; thatТs the way the UNТs managed to populate four planets, six moonsЦФ
УIТm going to fail my mental,Ф Barney said. УMy precog ability tells me I am; itТs helping me. I canТt endure enough Freuds of stress to satisfy themЦlook at me.Ф He held up his hands; they perceptibly trembled. УLook at my reaction to Miss FugateТs harmless remark. Look at my reaction to Hnatt bringing in EmilyТs pots. Look atЦФ
УOkay,Ф Leo said, but he still was worried. Generally the draft notices gave only a ninety-day period before induction, and Miss Fugate would hardly be ready to assume BarneyТs chair that soon. Of course he could transfer Mac Ronston from ParisЦbut even Ronston, after fifteen years, was not of the same caliber as Barney Mayerson; he had the experience, but talent could not be stored up: it had to be there as God-given.
The UN is really getting to me, Leo thought. He wondered if BarneyТs draft notice, coming at this particular moment, was only a coincidence or if this was another probe of his weak points. If it is, he decided, itТs a bad one. And thereТs no pressure I can put on the UN to exempt him.
And simply because I supply those colonists with their Can-D, he said to himself. I mean, somebody has to; theyТve got to have it. Otherwise what good are the Perky Pat layouts to them?
And in addition it was one of the most profitable trading operations in the Sol system. Many truffle skins were involved.
The UN knew that, too.

At twelve-thirty New York time Leo Bulero had lunch with a new girl who had joined the secretary pool. Pia Jurgens, seated across from him in a secluded chamber of the Purple Fox, ate with precision, her small, neat jaw working in an orderly manner. She was a redhead and he liked redheads; they were either outrageously ugly or almost supernaturally attractive. Miss Jurgens was the latter. Now, if he could find a pretext by which to transfer her to Winnie-the-Pooh AcresЕ assuming that Scotty didnТt object, however. And such did not at the present seem very likely; Scotty had a will of her own, which was always dangerous in a woman.
Too bad I couldnТt wangle Scotty off onto Barney Mayerson, he said to himself. Solve two problems at once; make Barney more psychologically secure, free myself forЦ
Nuts! he thought. Barney needs to be insecure, otherwise heТs as good as on Mars; thatТs why heТs hired that talking suitcase. I donТt understand the modern world at all, obviously. IТm living back in the twentieth century when psychoanalysts made people less prone to stress.
УDonТt you ever talk, Mr. Bulero?Ф Miss Jurgens asked.
УNo.Ф He thought, Could I dabble successfully in BarneyТs pattern of behavior? Help him toЦwhatТs the word?Цbecome less viable?
But it was not as easy as it sounded; he instinctively appreciated that, expanded frontal lobe-wise. You canТt make healthy people sick just by giving an order.
Or can you?
Excusing himself, he hunted up the robot waiter, and asked that a vidphone be brought to his table.
A few moments later he was in touch with Miss Gleason back at the office. УListen, I want to see Miss Rondinella Fugate, from Mr. MayersonТs staff, as soon as I get back. And Mr. Mayerson is not to know. Understand?Ф
УYes sir,Ф Miss Gleason said, making a note.
УI heard,Ф Pia Jurgens said, when he had hung up. УYou know, I could tell Mr. Mayerson; I see him nearly every day in theЦФ
Leo laughed. The idea of Pia Jurgens throwing away the burgeoning future opening for her vis-р-vis himself amused him. УListen,Ф he said, patting her hand, УdonТt worry; itТs not within the spectrum of human nature. Finish your Ganymedean wap-frog croquette and letТs get back to the office.Ф
УWhat I meant,Ф Miss Jurgeris said stiffly, Уis that it seems a little odd to me that youТd be so open in front of someone else, someone you donТt hardly know.Ф She eyed him, and her bosom, already overextended and enticing, became even more so; it expanded with indignation.
УObviously the answer is to know you better,Ф Leo said, greedily. УHave you ever chewed Can-D?Ф he asked her, rhetorically. УYou should. Despite the fact that itТs habit forming. ItТs a real experience.Ф He of course kept a supply, grade AA, on hand at Winnie-the-Pooh Acres; when guests assembled it often was brought out to add color to what otherwise might have passed as dull. УThe reason I ask is that you look like the sort of woman who has active imagination, and the reaction you get to Can-D dependsЦvaries withЦyour imaginative-type creative powers.Ф
УIТd enjoy trying it sometime,Ф Miss Jurgens said. She glanced about, lowered her voice, and leaned toward him. УBut itТs illegal.Ф
УIt is?Ф He stared at her.
УYou know it is.Ф The girl looked nettled.
УListen,Ф Leo said. УI can get you some.Ф He would, of course, chew it with her; in concert the usersТ minds fused, became a new unityЦor at least that was the experience. A few sessions of Can-D chewing in togetherness and he would know all there was to know about Pia Jurgens; there was something about herЦbeyond the obvious physical, anatomical enormityЦthat fascinated him; he yearned to be closer to her. УWe wonТt use a layout.Ф By an irony he, the creator and manufacturer of the Perky Pat microworld, preferred to use Can-D in a vacuum; what did a Terran have to gain from a layout, inasmuch as it was a mill of the conditions obtaining in the average Terran city? For settlers on a howling, gale-swept moon, huddled at the bottom of a hovel against frozen methane crystals and things, it was something else again; Perky Pat and her layout were an entree back to the world they had been born to. But he, Leo Bulero, he was damn tired of the world he had been born to and still dwelt on. And even Winnie-the-Pooh Acres, with all its quaint and not-so-quaint diversions did not fill the void. HoweverЦ
УThat Can-D,Ф he said to Miss Jurgens, Уis great stuff, and no wonder itТs banned. ItТs like religion; Can-D is the religion of the colonists.Ф He chuckled. УOne plug of it, wouzzled for fifteen minutes, andЦФ He made a sweeping gesture. УNo more hovel. No more frozen methane. It provides a reason for living. IsnТt that worth the risk and expense?Ф
But what is there of equal value for us? he asked himself, and felt melancholy. He had, by manufacturing the Perky Pat layouts and raising and distributing the lichen-base for the final packaged product Can-D, made life bearable for over one million unwilling expatriates from Terra. But what the hell did he get back? My life, he thought, is dedicated to others, and IТm beginning to kick; itТs not enough. There was his satellite, where Scotty waited; there existed as always the tangled details of his two large business operations, the one legal, the other notЕ but wasnТt there more in life than this?
He did not know. Nor did anyone else, because like Barney Mayerson they were all engaged in their various imitations of him. Barney with his Miss Rondinella Fugate, small-time replica of Leo Bulero and Miss Jurgens. Wherever he looked it was the same; probably even Ned Lark, the Narcotics Bureau chief, lived this sort of lifeЦprobably so did Hepburn-Gilbert, who probably kept a pale, tall Swedish starlet with breasts the size of bowling ballsЦ and equally firm. Even Palmer Eldritch. No, he realized suddenly. Not Palmer Eldritch; heТs found something else. For ten years heТs been in the Prox system or at least coming and going. What did he find? Something worth the effort, worth the terminal crash on Pluto?
УYou saw the homeopapes?Ф he asked Miss Jurgens. УAbout the ship on Pluto? ThereТs a man in a billion, that Eldritch. No one else like him.Ф
УI read,Ф Miss Jurgens said, Уthat he was practically a nut.Ф
УSure. Ten years out of his life, all that agony, and for what?Ф
УYou can be sure he got a good return for the ten years,Ф Miss Jurgens said. УHeТs crazy but smart; he looks out for himself, like everyone else does. HeТs not that nuts.Ф
УIТd like to meet him,Ф Leo Bulero said. УTalk to him, even if only just a minute.Ф He resolved, then, to do that, go to the hospital where Palmer Eldritch lay, force or buy his way into the manТs room, learn what he had found.
УI used to think,Ф Miss Jurgens said, Уthat when the ships first left our system for another starЦremember that?ЦweТd hear thatЦФ She hesitated. УItТs so silly, but I was only a kid then, when Arnoidson made his first trip to Prox and back; I was a kid when he got back, I mean. I actually thought maybe by going that far heТdЦФ She ducked her head, not meeting Leo BuleroТs gaze. УHeТd find God.Ф
Leo thought, I thought so, too. And I was an adult, then. In my mid-thirties. As IТve mentioned to Barney on numerous occasions.
And, he thought, I still believe that, even now. About the ten-year flight of Palmer Eldritch.

After lunch, back in his office at P. P. Layouts, he met Rondinella Fugate for the first time; she was waiting for him when he arrived.
Not bad-looking, he thought as he shut the office door. Nice figure, and what glorious, luminous eyes. She seemed nervous; she crossed her legs, smoothed her skirt, watched him furtively as he seated himself at his desk facing her. Very young, Leo realized. A child who would speak up and contradict her superior when she thought he was wrong. TouchingЕ
УDo you know why youТre here in my office?Ф he inquired.
УI guess youТre angry because I contradicted Mr. Mayerson. But I really experienced the futurity in the life-line of those ceramics. So what else could I do?Ф She half-rose imploringly, then reseated herself.
Leo said, УI believe you. But Mr. Mayerson is sensitive. If youТre living with him you know he has a portable psychiatrist that he lugs wherever he goes.Ф Opening his desk drawer he got out his box of Cuesta Reys, the very finest; he offered the box to Miss Fugate, who gratefully accepted one of the slender dark cigars. He, too, took a cigar; he lit hers and then his, and leaned back in his chair. УYou know who Palmer Eldritch is?Ф
УYes.Ф
УCan you use your precog powers for something other than Pre-Fash foresight? In another month or so the homeopapes will be routinely mentioning EldritchТs location. IТd like you to look ahead to those Тpapes and then tell me where the man is at this moment. I know you can do it.Ф You had better be able to, he said to himself, if you want to keep your job here. He waited, smoking his cigar, watching the girl and thinking to himself, with a trace of envy, that if she was as good in bed as she lookedЦ
Miss Fugate said in a soft, halting voice, УI get only the most vague impression, Mr. Bulero.Ф
УWell, letТs hear it anyhow.Ф He reached for a pen.
It took her several minutes, and, as she reiterated, her impression was not distinct. Nonetheless he presently had on his note pad the words: James Riddle VeteransТ Hospital, Base III, Ganymede. A UN establishment, of course. But he had anticipated that. It was not decisive; he still might be able to find a way in.
УAnd heТs not there under that name,Ф Miss Fugate said, pale and enervated from the effort of foreseeing; she relit her cigar, which had gone out; sitting straighter in her chair, she once more crossed her supple legs. УThe homeopapes will say that Eldritch was listed in the hospital records as a Mr.ЦФ She paused, squeezed her eyes shut, and sighed. УOh hell,Ф she said. УI canТt make it out. One syllable. Frent. Brent. No, I think itТs Trent. Yes, itТs Eldon Trent.Ф She smiled in relief; her large eyes sparkled with naяve, childlike pleasure. УThey really have gone to a lot of trouble to keep him hidden. And theyТre interrogating him, the Тpapes will say. So obviously heТs conscious.Ф She frowned then, all at once. УWait. IТm looking at a headline; IТm in my own conapt, by myself. ItТs early morning and IТm reading the front page. Oh dear.Ф