"Alan Dean Foster - With friends like these." - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

That is all I have to say about my work with the' green box and its odd contents. I am quite happy
in my new lodgings, and I am no longer troubled by nightmares. Also, I have been selected to go on
the University expedition to the South Seas! My associate and companion will be a brilliant and
eccentric cine-matographer named Pickman. Only one last thing bothers me unreasonably. My new
landlord has the most peculiarly colored yellow eyes.



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WHY JOHNNY CAN'T SPEED

When I was a smaller kid than I am now, I used to play war on the highway. You know, sit in the
back seat with a ruler or broomstick or just my hands, and annihilate the lady in the station
wagon behind you, mow down the tin-knowing pedestrians on the sidewalks, blast that low-flying
bomber (usually an innocent Piper Cub) out of the sky.
But the best fantasy was to turn the headlights into ray guns, the side-view mirror into a
blaster, the tail fins into rocket launchers.
I've been in traffic tie-ups where I wished I still had that magical adolescent armory. So have
drivers around me.
You can see it in their faces.

DEAR MR. AND MRS. MERWIN:
IT IS MY PAINFUL DUTY TO HAVE TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR SON, ROBERT L. MERWIN, WAS KILLED IN
COMMUTER ACTION ON THE SOUTHBOUND SAN DIEGO FREEWAY IN THE VICINITY OF THE SECOND IRVINE RANCH
TURNOFF, ORANGE COUNTY.
FROM WHAT OUR EVALUATORS HAVE BEEN ABLE TO RECONSTRUCT, YOUNG ROBERT APPARENTLY DISPUTED A LANE
CHANGE WITH A BLACK GM CADDY MARAUDER. NO VIOLATION OF THE NORTH AMERICAN TRAFFIC CODE HAS COME TO
MY NOTICE, BUT I WILL KEEP YOU INFORMED SHOULD ANY SUCH COME TO LIGHT. NORMAL INVESTIGATIONS ARE
PROCEEDING. THE OTHER VEHICLE INVOLVED IS KNOWN TO ORANGE COUNTY POLICE. ITS OWNER WAS QUESTIONED
BUT NOT DETAINED. DETAILS AND PARTICULARS ARE ENCLOSED. PLEASE ACCEPT MY PERSONAL CONDOLENCES.
YOURS SINCERELY,
GEORGE WILSON ANGEL
CHIEF, SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA DIVISION
CALIFORNIA DISTRICT HIGHWAY PATROL
ENCL: 1 RPT. ACCID.
1 RPT. CORONER
Frank Merwin refolded the letter, replaced it in its envelope, and laid it on the flange of the
lamp stand, near the radio. He held his wife a little more tightly. Her sobbing had become less
than hysterical, now that the terrible initial shock had somewhat worn. He managed to keep his own
emotions pretty well in check, but then he had driven the Los Angeles area for some twenty years
and was correspondingly toughened. When he finally spoke again there was as much bitterness in his
voice as sorrow.
"Geez, Myrt, oh, geez."
He eased her down onto the big white couch, walked to the center of the room and paused there,
hands clenching and unclenching, clasped behind his back. The woven patterns in the floor absorbed
his attention.
"Goddamn it, Myrtle, I told him! I told him! 'Look, son, if you insist on driving all the way to