"Philip Jose Farmer - The Sliced Crosswise Only on Tuesday W" - читать интересную книгу автора (Farmer Phillip Jose)

Jennie's backward on its wheels, and pushed his around so that it faced hers. He went
back in, pressed the button, and stood there. The double doors only slightly distorted
his view. But she seemed even more removed in distance, in time, and in
unattainability.
Three days later, well into winter, he received a letter. The box inside the entrance
hall buzzed just as he entered the front door. He went back and waited until the letter
was printed and had dropped out from the slot. It was the reply to his request to move
to Wednesday.
Denied. Reason: he had no reasonable reason to move.
That was true. But he could not give his real motive. It would have been even less
impressive than the one he had given. He had punched the box opposite No. 12.
REASON: TO GET INTO AN ENVIRONMENT WHERE MY TALENTS WILL BE
MORE LIKELY TO BE ENCOURAGED.
He cursed and he raged. It was his human, his civil right to move into any day he
pleased. That is, it should be his right. What if a move did cause much effort? What if
it required a transfer of his I.D. and all the records connected with him from the
moment of his birth? What if тАж?
He could rage all he wanted to, but it would not change a thing. He was stuck in the
world of Tuesday.
Not yet, he muttered. Not yet. Fortunately, there is no limit to the number of
requests I can make in my own day. I'll send out another. They think they can wear me
out, huh? Well, I'll wear them out. Man against the machine. Man against the system.
Man against the bureaucracy and the hard cold rules.
Winter's twenty days had sped by. Spring's eight days rocketed by. It was summer
again. On the second day of the twelve days of summer, he received a reply to his
second request.
It was neither a denial nor an acceptance. It stated that if he thought he would be
better off psychologically in Wednesday because his astrologer said so, then he would
have to get a psycher's critique of the astrologer's analysis. Tom Pym jumped into the
air and clicked his sandaled heels together. Thank God that he lived in an age that did
not classify astrologers as charlatans! The people-the masses-had protested that
astrology was a necessity and that it should be legalized and honored. So laws were
passed, and because of that, Tom Pym had a chance.
He went down to the stoner room and kissed the door of the cylinder and told
Jennie Marlowe the good news. She did not respond, though he thought he saw her
eyes brighten just a little. That was, of course, only his imagination, but he liked his
imagination.
Getting a psycher for a consultation and getting through the three sessions took
another year, another forty-eight days. Doctor Sigmund Traurig was a friend of Doctor
Stelhela, the astrologer, and so that made things easier for Tom.
"I've studied Doctor Stelhela's chart carefully and analyzed carefully your
obsession for this woman," he said. "I agree with Doctor Stelhela that you will always
be unhappy in Tuesday, but I don't quite agree with him that you will be happier in
Wednesday. However, you have this thing going for this Miss Marlowe, so I think you
should go to Wednesday. But only if you sign papers agreeing to see a psycher there
for extended therapy."
Only later did Tom Pym realize that Doctor Traurig might have wanted to get rid of
him because he had too many patients. But that was an uncharitable thought.
 He had to wait while the proper papers were transmitted to Wednesday's
authorities. His battle was only half-won. The other officials could turn him down.