"Horace Gold - Inside Man & Other Science Fiction Stories" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gold Horace)

"No," said Les. "You fix them instead of ruining them."
"That's how I make my living," Mike said cheerfully. "If they didn't ruin 'em, I
wouldn't have 'em to fix."
Les, about to retort in sudden rage, sat down on a fender instead and thought about
Mike's philosophy. It was as if dentists hired thugs to bash in people's teeth so there
would always be work, or veterinarians poisoned animals just enough to need
treatment. He decided he didn't like Mike's reasoning. He also decided not to argue
about it; he was tired of strange looks and counter-arguments.
Mike climbed out of the pit, wiped his hands on a ball of dirty cotton waste and got
into the car to start the motor. He cocked his head like a music critic listening first to
one section of the orchestra and then the other.
"Sounds pretty good," he pronounced.
"The generator," said Les.
Mike frowned. "What about the generator?"
"It's undercharging."
"Hell it is!"
"Hell it isn't."
Mike glanced at the needle and winked. "So, okay, more business." Then he
scowled at Les. "How'd you know it was undercharging?"
"It's a long story. You have any more jobs tonight, Mike?"
"Nope. Why?"
"You've got a bunch of cars on the lot. I've got ten bucks to either prove or
disprove something. Deal?"
"Deal," said Mike, leading the way out to the lot.
By the seventh car, Mike was quiet and thoughtful. Les had found only one that
murmured tranquilly and when he stated what was wrong with each, and Mike
checked, Les had pinpointed the trouble exactly.
"Well, how do you account for that?" Les wanted to know.
Mike did some meditative scratching. "I go by ear myself, Mr. Shay. I can listen to a
motor and tell pretty near what's wrong. You just got a better ear than me, that's all."
"And when it isn't the motor? A lot of things in the body and chassis didn't squeak
or rattle."
"Yeah," said Mike. "I was thinking about them. I can't figure it out."
"I can," another voice said.
Les leaped. A solemn face with a slight stubble and a greasy homburg was leaning
out of a car window.
"Sorry, Prof," said Mike. "I didn't mean to wake you. Prof, Mr. Shay. I let the Prof
sleep in the cars, provided he takes his shoes off and keeps his hat on."
"My pleasure, Mr. Shay," announced the Prof.
"H тАУ hello," said Les. "You did say you could figure it out?"
"No mystery at all," the Prof said. "Can you do this only with automobiles or all
kinds of machinery?"
"All kinds."
"Then the answer is very simple," stated the Prof. "Telepathy"
"Telepathy!"
"Of a very highly specialized variety." The Prof looked hopefully at Les. "Is the full
explanation worth the price of a drink?"
"I'll say!" exclaimed Les.
***
Thalia opened red eyes and watched Les pick his way across the uncluttered floor to