"James E. Gunn - The Listeners" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gunn James E)

them.
"They talk to me, Mr. MacDonald," the janitor mumbled, staring at the
teeth in his hand with what seemed like suspicion. "In the glass beside my bed
at night, they whisper to me. About things far off, like. Messages like."
MacDonald stared at the janitor. It was a strange word for the old man
to use, and hard to say without teeth. Still, the word had been "messages."
But why should it be strange? He could have picked it up around the offices or
the laboratories. It would be odd, indeed, if he had not picked up something
about what was going on. Of course: messages.
"I've heard of that sort of thing happening," MacDonald said. "False
teeth accidentally constructed into a kind of crystal set, that pick up radio
waves. Particularly near a powerful station. And we have a lot of stray
frequencies floating around, what with the antennas and all. Tell you what,
Joe. We'll make an appointment with the Project dentist to fix your teeth so
that they don't bother you. Any small alteration should do it."
"Thank you, Mr. MacDonald," the old man said. He fitted his teeth back
into his mouth. "You're a great man, Mr. MacDonald."
MacDonald drove the ten dark miles to the hacienda with a vague feeling
of unease, as if he had done something during the day or left something undone
that should have been otherwise.
But the house was dark when he drove up in front, not empty-dark as it
had seemed to him a few hours before, but friendly-dark. Maria was asleep,
breathing peacefully.
The house was brilliant with lighted windows that cast long fingers
into the night, probing the dark hills, and the sound of many voices stirred
echoes until the countryside itself seemed alive.
"Come in, Lily," MacDonald said at the door, and was reminded of a
winter scene when a Lily had met the gentlemen at the door and helped them off
with their overcoats. But that was another Lily and another occasion and
another place and somebody else's imagination. "I'm glad you decided to come."
He had a can of beer in his hand, and he waved it in the general direction of
the major center of noisemaking. "There's beer in the living room and
something more potent in the study -- 190 proof grain alcohol, to be precise.
Be careful with that. It will sneak up on you. But_ -- nunc est bibendum!"_
"Where's Mrs. MacDonald?" Lily asked.
"Back there, somewhere." MacDonald waved again. "The men, and a few
brave women, are in the study. The women, and a few brave men, are in the
living room. The kitchen is common territory. Take your choice."
"I really shouldn't have come," Lily said. "I offered to spell Mr.
Saunders in the control room, but he said I hadn't been checked out. It isn't
as if the computer couldn't handle it all alone, and I know enough to call
somebody if anything unexpected should happen."
"Shall I tell you something, Lily?" MacDonald said. "The computer could
do it alone. And you and the computer could do it better than any of us,
including me. But if the men ever feel that they are unnecessary, they would
feel more useless than ever. They would give up. And they mustn't do that."
"Oh, Mac!" Lily said.
"They mustn't do that. Because one of them is going to come up with the
inspiration that solves it all. Not me. One of them. We'll send somebody to
relieve Charley before the evening is over."