"Eric Flint - Grantville Gazette - Vol 7" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Eric)

"I don't care. I don't believe they had materials that would handle those stresses, and we definitely
don't."
The room was quiet.
"John, I'm sorry," Claude said gently, "but I'm fresh out of ideas. I'm going home."
***
His lightnings enlightened the world: the earth saw, and trembled.
(King James Bible, Psalms 97:4)

Father Athanasius Kircher watched as John Grover wandered from one empty table to the next. For
once, it wasn't that crowded in the Thuringen Gardens. John banged each table with his pewter mug.
Curious, Father Athanasius began following him. Once he got close enough, he heard John mutter, "Too
hard."
Now Father Athanasius was really intrigued. Most of the tables in the Thuringen Gardens were quite
new, solidly built against the general gaiety of a popular tavern. Sturdy was not a description that did
them justice.
John hadn't noticed the priest. He drained his mug and looked around the Gardens. "There!" He
headed for a table in one of the back corners. Father Athanasius trailed behind.
The table was one of the up-time folding tables, matched up with metal folding chairs that were also
up-time in origin. Having been around Grantville for some little time now, Father Athanasius was certain
that they represented an unauthorized loan from a school, or church, or one of the "civic organizations" of
Grantville.
John sat carefully in a chair and banged his mug against the table top. The priest saw that it was that
strange wood-like substance called "masonite." Unlike the other tables in the room, it was not sturdy, and
when struck by the mug, it flexed and boomed.
"Perfect." John carefully set his cup down on the floor, and centered his chair on the table. He
pressed the center of the table firmly with the heel of his hand. It flexed.
"Yes." John leaned forward, and banged his head against the center of the table.
Shocked, Father Athanasius stepped forward and grabbed John by the shoulder. John stopped in
mid-bang. "No, John!"
John looked up at him. "Oh, hi, Father A."
"Let me buy you another round, John." Father Athanasius sat down across from John. "We'll talk it
through. Whatever the problem is, it should not drive you to self abuse."
"I've been beating my head against a wall at work," John said, somewhat truculently. "I might as well
do it here as well. Maybe it will break an idea loose." Father Athanasius reserved comment, and just
looked steadily at one of the men he thought of as a friend.
John slumped a little. His voice grew quieter. "You're a good man, Father." He sighed and his hand
crept toward his shirt pocket. He started stroking the screwdriver he kept there. "But you can't bring
Gayle back from the damned Tower of London, you can't bring all those jewelers back from Prague, and
you can't push skills I don't have into these hands."
There was a moment of quiet. John shook his head. "It isn't Mike Stearn's fault. Gayle Mason is the
best QRP CW operator in the world. I agreed that she had to go to London. But that means that the best
source of knowledge about radio tubes is hundreds of miles away."
Father Athanasius picked up John's mug, and waved at a waitress.
"It isn't Morris Roth's fault that every jeweler in the world wants to be near the world's only source of
knowledge about faceted gems. But that means that the people with skills in working with very small
wires and parts that I need don't come to Grantville anymore.
"It isn't my fault that I have an associate's degree in business, not a masters in electronic engineering.
I'm the best available for running VOA, but I don't know the background of the history and development
of radio. No one in Grantville does."
The waitress arrived with two fresh mugs. John took his without even noticing it.