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

"It's nobody's fault. But you put it all together, and Murphy has arranged the world so that we cannot
get Gustav's Radio station on the air. And I have to. Mike is counting on me."
"We have talked about this Murphy before, John," the priest said gently. "Most would blame Satan
when faced with such adversity."
John shook his head. "It isn't evil I'm dealing with, Father. It's just perversity. It's like the bread
always falling butter side down. If things can go wrong, they will. Wasn't that true when you built your
water organs?"
Father Kircher nodded firmly. "It was. It is." He thought back to those days, and grimaced.
"Everything that could go wrong did. Indeed. We just did not express it so compactly."
"Imps, daemons, gremlins . . . name them as you will, Father. But Murphy acts in the world as sure
as God does. But he isn't evil." John took a swallow from his mug. "The best decisions have been made.
I know that. Gayle being in London, Morris being in Prague, are absolutely for the best. Godly. But
Murphy arranges that the Godly best causes something else to go wrong. We have the Voice of America
running, but we can't make the tubes for Gustav's station."
Father Kircher nodded. "I know. The station manager has asked each religious leader in town to give
the morning invocation before the dawn news broadcast. Yesterday was my turn! It is amazing to have
your words carried by the lightnings across the heavens to say, 'Here I am!'"
John smiled at the nod to Job. He remembered using the line himself when defending his interest in
getting his Ham license to his Baptist pastor thirty years earlier. My sword John thought.
John heaved a big sigh. He took his screwdriver out of his pocket and fidgeted with it. "The worst is
the alternator."
"Alternator?" Father Kircher prompted gently.
"That's the most perverse of all, Father. It's a tease. We know that Reginald Fessenden and Ernst
Alexanderson built an RF alternator in 1906. We know they broadcast voice to crystal radios without
tubes. We know they were heard over a hundred miles away. We know all that. We even have a
picture. A poor, dark, grainy picture, but a picture nonetheless. We can look at that picture of
Fessenden's alternator at Brant Rock, Massachusetts. But that's all. We have no idea what was inside
that round case. Just that it was 'an alternator.' I can't build a photo. It's a tease. We have to invent an
alternator. And so I started, thinking, 'Gee, we have all the alternators out at the power plant, every car
has an alternator, how hard can it be?'" John looked back towards the folding table. He looked back at
Father Kircher. "So we pulled most of the people off Gunter's team, since working on tubes without
Gayle was very slow going, and started in on the alternator. I know now how hard it can be. It can be
very hard."
Father Kircher's hand made the beginnings of a gesture that he knew would be of no comfort to his
Protestant friend. "I know, John. I will think on it. Perhaps we can find someone to help. Perhaps we can
find a way to put Murphy behind us."
John shuddered. "No! Never behind you, Father. You always have to keep Murphy in front of you.
Dead in your sights, never allowing him a moment to screw anything up. Out of sight, out of mind. We
need a way to keep Murphy before us."
"A talisman, then. Something to help you remember to focus on the possibilities both good and bad,
to keep at the work."
"Yes, exactly. Well, that and a jeweler with an interest in radio who can help with the wire and the
forms and the work on the damned alternator."
"I will think on it, John, and I will pray."
"No one can ask more, Father." John drained his cup and stood. "Thanks for listening."
"You're welcome." Father Athanasius' "my son" was unspoken, but heard nonetheless.
***
The vision of dreams is the resemblance of one thing to another, even as the
likeness of a face to a face.
(Deuterocanonical Apocrypha, 3 Sirach)