"Mel Gilden - Zoot Marlow 3 - Tubular Android Superheroes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gilden Mel)

I stayed around another few days, relaxing and filling up on home cooking. I would have stayed
longer, but Zamp kept picking at me as if I were a scab. When I began wondering why I couldn't take
Zamp to Earth, I decided it was time to leave. When I told Zamp he acted as if he didn't care. That was
a clue with a searchlight on it. I missed it just the same.
When I told my mother I was leaving, she said, "Again?" as if I'd astonished her.
"Unfinished business," I said, hating myself for lying.
My father asked me if I thought I was doing the right thing. When I said I didn't know but had to do it
anyway, he said, "Don't forget to bring home more chocolate-covered coffee beans."
My sneeve was tanked, cranked, and ready to go. I got aboard and sighed, thinking about Zamp. I
told the computer my destination and pushed the big button. Seconds later, nothing was around me but
nothing.
I was sleeping and a sound woke me. It wasn't one of the chitters or clanks that the ship occasionally
made; it was the squeak of a hatch opening. Raymond Chandler said that if you wanted to perk up your
writing, have somebody enter a room with a gun in his hand. I hoped that wasn't happening to me. With
my eyes still closed, I stiffened. Then another thought came to me and I relaxed. I said, "Everything all
right, Grampa Zamp?"
"How'd you know it was me?" I opened my eyes. He was smiling shyly at the deck. He said, "You
won't take me home, will you?"
"I'll do worse than that. I'll take you to Earth."
That brightened him right up.
I was angry with him for a while, but soon I worked it out. I had to admit that having company on the
trip was an improvement, and Zamp and I had always gotten along. I was still certain that taking Zamp to
Earth was a bad idea, but short of taking him home I could do nothing about it. Taking him home would
be entertaining, but it would be trouble for everybody, mostly for me and Zamp.
I read to him from the Hillerman novel Whipper Will had given me. He liked the Indian stuff, but he
couldn't make it match up with the things he'd heard on westerns like Tom Mix and The Lone Ranger
and Gunsmoke. I tried to explain about reality, but he was determined to take the romantic view.
The sneeve slid into the ocean off Malibu and planed through the water to the bottom. I put my books
away and shut everything down. I had only one pair of short Johns and I let Zamp wear them. They
would protect him from the cold a little. I, on the other hand, would freeze my big Toomler schnozz off.
We stood in the airlock and let it screw us out into the cold salty water, which struck me like a hammer.
We couldn't breathe underwater forever; I grabbed Zamp by the wrist and pulled him toward the shore.
We felt the slope of the beach and walked up it and out of the water. It was late afternoon. The Sun
was behind us and cast long shadows. Here and there diehard sunbathers were still staked out, but even
as we watched, a few of them got up and headed for their cars. The air cooled rapidly. Grampa Zamp
looked around, his nose twitching with excitement. Coming here with him was nearly as exciting as my
own first arrival.
We walked across the sand, across the public walkway, across the small brick yard, and into the
house. Everywhere Zamp looked was an eyeful of stuff he had never before seen.
"Hey, bros!" I called out. The house was empty.
"Is this normal?" Zamp said.
I shook my head. Then I heard shouting at the front of the house. I took a moment to pull on a pair of
walking shorts that I found in Whipper Will's room and went outside. Zamp and I walked into a riot.



CHAPTER 1
Sucking Sidewalk
┬л^┬╗
People stood in tight knots on the postage stamp cement apron in front of Whipper Will's garage. They