"George Alec Effinger - The Zork Chronicles" - читать интересную книгу автора (Effinger George Alec)

are in fact beginning to burn, you may exercise any of several options. First, this may be only Magic Fire,
in which case you will only fall asleep for centuries and centuries and be awakened with a kiss. The
management of this hotel makes no guarantee that the fire you encounter will be of this variety. Second,
the fire may actually be Zeus or Marduk or one of the truly major personages who frequently accept the
amenities of this hotel, and they may be merely attempting to seduce you in their typically obscure way. In
such a situation, your response is best left up to your own moral posture. However тАФ and this point
cannot be stressed too highly тАФ it may indeed be that the fire is just regular old fire and that you are in
serious danger of dying in a horrible conflagration. Our advice to you in this third scenario is: Don't.
Escape will seem like the most profitable course of action, even to the dullest-witted." Below that, in tiny
letters, were the words Powers That Be Printing Office. Publication No. 0154-G.
There wasn't much else to see in the room. When Glorian turned on the television, there were only
two channels operating. One played a rerun of a once-popular sitcom called "All-Father Knows Best,"
which pretended to portray what daily life among the Powers That Be might conceivably be like. Today's
episode featured Ed Asner in the role of Oceanus, who was a lazy Titan who just lay around in his
sea-bed all day until his wife Tethys, played by Carol Kane, came in and announced that she was going
to get a job singing with a Cuban dance band. Glorian had seen the episode at least three times before,
so he changed the channel. The other one that worked gave information about events at the Valhalla
Hilton. It said that the cocktail party preceding the Campbell Awards ceremony would begin shortly, and
that all award nominees were entitled to two free drinks.
Two free drinks sounded good. He didn't even bother to unpack his bags, but just tossed them into
the narrow closet. Whatever secrets were hidden in the bureau would have to wait until later that evening.
Glorian stopped briefly in the bathroom and glanced at his reflection in the mirror. As a middle-level
supernatural being, he had the ability to change his appearance at will, and this talent had come in very
useful on some of the difficult and dangerous quests he'd been assigned in the past. Now, though, he
thought it best if he assumed the guise of a modest, friendly, generally charming young man. If he needed
to change sex or size or particular attributes later, that could be accomplished easily enough. As he
pocketed his room key and stepped out into the hall, he looked like any bright young man who wanted to
talk to you seriously about buying into a time-share apartment.
Glorian was pleasantly surprised to meet an old friend while he waited for the elevator to take him
back down to the lobby. Her name was Amitia, and she was a supernatural helper of heroes of about the
same rank as he. She was lovely, with her long blonde hair done up with strings of pearls, and she wore a
shimmering gown of silver. "Glorian!" she cried when she saw him.
"It's been a long time, Amitia," he said.
"When was the last time our paths crossed? It was on Earth, wasn't it? In the future? When you
were leading that old woman on some senseless quest, and I was traveling with that bright young man
and his lecherous uncle."
"The three of you were dragging a Vanguard missile behind you!" said Glorian, laughing.
"Nobody ever said these missions had to make sense. Not to us, anyway. They're always
life-and-death matters to the poor, misguided heroes, though."
Glorian jabbed again at the elevator button. "Just think how much easier our life would be without
the heroes."
"Really? How? What would we do?"
He stared at the beautiful non-real woman for a moment and then shrugged. "I don't know. But I'm
sure the Powers That Be would think of something."
The elevator arrived just then, and they entered. Amitia pressed the button for the lobby. "Nervous,
Glorian?" she asked.
"About what? The Campbell Award? Hey, I've been nominated nine times before, and I've never
won. The first couple of times, I went along with everybody who kept telling me 'It's an honor just to be
nominated.' Now I just want to win one of those suckers."
"Some of us have never been nominated, not even once," said Amitia glumly.