"Heinlein, Robert A- Space Family Stone" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

'Then why bother to shop?' He got an elbow in the ribs for this remark.
'I'm interested in seeing what the market has to offer,' Mr Stone answered. 'Coming, Edith?'
Dr Stone answered, 'I trust your judgement, my dear.'
Hazel gulped more coffee and stood lip. 'I'm coming along.'
Buster bounced down out of his chair. 'Me, too!'
Dr. Stone stopped him. 'No, dear. Finish your oatmeal.'
'No! I'm going, too. Can't I, Grandma Hazel?'
Hazel considered it. Riding herd on the child outside the pressurised city was a full-time chore; he was not old enough to be trusted to handle his vacuum-suit controls properly. On this occasion she wanted to be free to give her full attention to other matters. 'I'm afraid not, Lowell. Tell you what, sugar, I'll keep my phone open and we'll play chess while I'm away.'
'It's no fun to play chess by telephone. I can't tell what you are thinking.'
Hazel stared at him. 'So that's it? I've suspected it for some time. Maybe I can win a game once. No, don't start whimpering - or I'll take your slide rule away from you for a week.' The child thought it over, shrugged, and his face became placid. Hazel turned to her son. 'Do you suppose he really does hear thoughts?'
Her son looked at his least son. 'I'm afraid to find out.' He sighed and added, 'Why couldn't I have been born into a nice, normal, stupid family? Your fault, Hazel.'
'His mother patted his arm. 'Don't fret' Roger. You pull down the average.'
'Hummph! Give me that spool. I'd better shoot it off to New York before I lose my nerve.'
Hazel fetched it; Mr Stone took it to the apartment phone, punched in the code for RCA New York with the combination set for highspeed transcription relay. As he slipped the spool into its socket he added, 'I shouldn't do this. In addition to that "Galactic Overlord" nonsense, Hazel, you messed up the continuity by killing off four of my standard characters.'
Hazel kept her eye on the spool; it had started to revolve. 'Don't worry about it. I've got it all worked out. You'll see.'
'Eh? What do you mean? Are you intending to write more episodes? I'm tempted to go limp and let you struggle with it - I'm sick of it and it would serve you right. Galactic Overlords indeed!'
His mother continued to watch the spinning spool in the telephone. At highspeed relay the thirty-minute spool zipped through in thirty seconds. Shortly it went spung! and popped up out of the socket; Hazel breathed relief. The episode was now either in New York, or was being held automatically in the Luna City telephone exchange, waiting for a break in the live Luna-to-Earth traffic. In either case it was out of reach, as impossible to recall as an angry word.
'Certainly I plan to do more episodes' she told him. 'Exactly seven, in fact.'
Huh! Why seven?'
Haven't you figued out why I am kiling off characters? Seven episodes is the end of this quarter and a new option date. This time they won't pick up your option because every last one of the characters will be dead and the story will be over. I'm taking you off the hook, son.'
'What? Hazel, you can't do that! Adventure serials never end.'
'Does it say so in your contract?'
'No, but -'
'You've been grousing about how you wanted to get off this golden treadmill. You would never have the courage to do it yourself, so your loving mother has come to the rescue. You're a free man again, Roger.'
'But -' His face relaxed. 'I suppose you're right Though I would prefer to commit suicide, even literary suicide, in my own way and at my own time. Mmm. .. see here, Hazel, when do you plan to kill off John Sterling?'
'Him? Why, Our Hero has to last until the final episode, naturally. He and the Galactic Overlord do each other in at the very end. Slow music.'
'Yes. Yes, surely... that's the way it would have to be. But you can't do it'
'Why not?'
'Because I insist on writing that scene myself. I've hated that mealy-mouthed Galahad ever since I thought him up. I'm not going to let anyone else have the fun of killing him; he's mine!'
His mother bowed. 'Your honour, sir.'
Mr Stone's face brightened; he reached for his pouch and slung it over his shoulder. 'And now let's look at some space-ships!'
'Geronimo!'
As the four left the apartment and stepped on the slid eway that would take them to the pressure lfft to the surface Pollux said to his grandmother, 'Hazel, what does "Geronimo" mean?'
'Ancient Druid phrase meaning "Let's get out of here even if we have to walk." So pick up your feet.'


III
THE SECOND-HAND MARKET

They stopped at the Locker Rooms at East Lock and suited up. As usual, Hazel unbelted her gun and strapped it to her vacuum suit. None of the others was armed; aside from civic guards and military police no one went armed in Luna City at this late date except a few of the very old-timers like Hazel herself. Castor said' 'Hazel, why do you bother with that?'
'To assert my right. Besides, I might meet a rattlesnake.'
'Rattlesnakes? On the Moon? Now, Hazel!'
'"Now, Hazel"' yourself. More rattlesnakes walking around on their hind legs than ever wriggled in the dust. Anyhow, do you remember the reason the White Knight gave Alice for keeping a mouse trap on his horse?'
'Uh, not exactly.'
'Look it up when we get home. You kids are ignorant Give me a hand with this helmet.'
The conversation stopped, as Buster was calling his grandmother and insisting that they start their game. Castor could read her lips through her helmet; when he had his own helmet in place and his suit radio switched on he could hear them arguing about which had the white men last game. Hazel was preoccupied thereafter as Buster, with the chess board in front of him, was intentionally hurrying the moves, whereas Hazel was kept busy visualising the board.
They had to wait at the lock for a load of tourists, just arrived in the morning shuttle from Earth, to spill out. One of two women passengers stopped and stared at them. 'Thelma', she said to her companion, 'that little man - he's wearing a gun.'
The other woman urged her along. 'Don't take notice', she said. 'It's not polite.' She went on, changing the subject 'I wonder where we can buy souvenir turtles around here? I promised Herbert.'
Hazel turned and glared at them; Mr Stone took her arm and urged her into the now empty lock. She continued to fume as the lock cycled. 'Groundhogs! Souvenir turtles indeed!'
'Mind your blood pressure, Hazel', her son advised.