"Steven Gould - Rory" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gould Stephen Jay)

tenor, "Monarch. One: a person who rules over a kingdom or empire as
(a) a sov-ereign ruler, (b) a constitutional king or queen. Two: someone or
something holding a preeminent position or power. Three: a large
migratory American butтАФ" the device shut off in mid-sen-tence as Rory
hit the interrupt key.
"Thank you," said Rory automatically.
"You're welcome," the dictionary said.
Rory kicked the wall nearest him and went flying down the passage.
Halfway down, a large figure came floating backwards out of a side
passage. Rory had time to yell, "Look out!" before he collided with Anton's
stomach.
He and Rory pinwheeled down the passage.
Rory detached himself in mid-flight and pushed gently away from
Anton. They came to a stop against the frame of the next doorway. "You
should look both ways before you go into a passageway. Some people go
lots faster than me."
Anton stared at Rory while trying to draw a breath. Rory went on,
"You're new here. I haven't seen you. Did you just get here? Where did you
come from?"
"Sorry," Anton finally managed. "I should've looked, but I was lost and
trying to figure out where I was."
"Lost?" Rory scratched his head. "In the station?"
"Well, yes," Anton said, staring. He saw an oddly shaped male adult
with slanting eyes, broad short head, and stubby, short fingers. Age was
hard to guess, but Anton decided that he must be around twenty. "I'm
Anton Grebenchekov."
"I'm Rory. Are you the one who's going to work with Dr. Ruth?"
"Dr. Ruth? No . . . oh, Ruth McMillian. Right. That's what I hope to do.
What do you do, Rory?"
Rory grinned, and slapped his chest. "I'm the supercargo. That's
because I'm special." He flipped the switch on the dictionary again.
"Define mongolism."
The box beeped and said, "Mongolism. A congenital condition
characterized by slanting eyes, by a broad short skull, by broad hands with
short fingers, by trisomy of the chromosone numbered twenty-one in man,
and by moderate to severe mental defiтАФ" Rory hit the interrupt again.
"Thank you," said Rory.
"You're welcome," the box said.
"See? Special. According to Dr. Ruth, there isn't anybody else like me in
space. She says I'm an 'investigator,' " Rory continued. "I investigate
things."
Anton smiled slowly. "I see. Could you investigate something for me?"
"Sure. I'm good at that."
"How do I get to cabin Ten-C?"
"Ten-C? Oh, you're in the same pod as me. Follow me." Rory grabbed
one of the lines running down the wall of the passage and pulled himself
hand over hand back in the direction he had come with the rapidity of a
monkey. Anton followed as best he could.
At every junction Rory paused, waiting for Anton to catch up. Then,
looking both ways, he kicked off the edges of that containment bulkhead