"C. M. Kornbluth & Donald A. Wollheim - Interplane Express" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kornbluth C M)

he was now. The peak-and-valley writing was Swojian, as were all these smocked and hairy people.
He couldn't make much out of the technical details which the book offered in what it called
"simplified, easily understandable form for the layman's interest and amusement." It was mostly straight
mathematics. The only intelligible part of the section was: "The reader will be interested to learn that the
speed-torsion formulae are in the main products of Swojian science, though valuable data were collected
by the Officials of Earth. There was as well considerable collaboration between the Swoj and Earth-I."
More intelligible was the "Brief History of the Interplane Highway." There at last McFee found the
basis of the whole insane collusion against his peace of mind. There it was explained that "Earth" consists
of a large number of coexistent planes. Many years ago the first crossing had been made form Earth-I to
Earth-V. Since then the highway had been made commercially practical and been extended to link Earths
II, III, IV, and VII.
"тАФand this new section, due to open April 15, 1943тАФ" McFee gasped. He was three weeks early!
He had gone through beforeтАФhe read on. "тАФwill be an accomplished fact by the time that you, visitor
from America, read this. Secret negotiations with the government of the United States have been nearly
completed at this stage of writing."
McFee's smash-fast arrived in the hands of the amiable Swojian whom he regarded with new interest
as a potential neighbor. She served him bacon and eggs, explaining that they had been raising chickens
and hogs in anticipation of a flow of American tourists. English was being taught as a second language to
the inhabitants of the border towns.
He ate ravenously, then continued with the booklet. There was a schedule of currencies, a digest of
highway markers in Swojian, and an official greeting from the Chamber of Commerce of the Tinkabog
Continental Unit in the All-Swoj Federation. He was invited to enjoy himself, see the sights, report any
discourtesies and generally to consider himself a public guest.
McFee rose from the hefty breakfast tickled pink at being the first American tourist to see the place,
thinking perhaps of writing articles about it in the Halliburton manner: "Through the Swoj With Gun and
Camera." "The Poetry of Swoj." "Swoj the Mysterious." Who knows? he reflected, slipping a notch on
his belt.
He inspected Spike, shooing away the Swojian urchins, who remarkably resembled puppies, and
compared it with a few other machines on the streets and doubted not that it was the best thing in sight.
Driving off slowly, keeping to the Intpl. Hwy., he surveyed the scenery, noting that dogs were
dressed in little jackets and that the principal livestock was a sort of de-horned goat that came in all sizes
up to the gigantic.
McFee passed a number of towns, small, rustic and prosperous. He followed the road-map in the
brochure out of North-West Tinkabog and thereafter wandered at will. The country was low and rolling,
with occasional green hills; there were purple mountains in the far distance. He passed several cars on the
highway before coming to a big intersection, slowed down to read the lengthy signpost. It informed him
that to stay in the Swoj he must get off the Highway, as it continued into Earth-IV.
What the hell? He drove on into hillier country; again the highway became high-speed and the
parkway appeared. There were no more English signs; the speed-up marker was in Swojian and some
other language that looked like a cross of braille and hen-tracks.
There was a repetition of the unholy loops, turns, twists, hilly dips, and the whole arsenal of the
previous transition into the Swoj. McFee bore it like a man and Spike took it in its stride.
McFee slowed at last to find that Earth-IV wasn't as picturequely old-world as Earth-V. It was
mostly sandy waste, with big gopher-holes to accent the monotony of the view. There were people
popping out of and into the holes every now and then; McFee couldn't get a straight look at them
because of the reflected glare of sun on sand. But there was a gas-station before one of the groups of
gopher-holes. McFee sighted it far down the road and pulled in.
The station man looked like a lizard with a coolie hat. But his tail was rat-like rather than scaly, and
he had rodent's whiskers. And his smile seemed a little forced.
McFee tried English, getting nowhere; finally he pantomimed filling a gas-tank and got the response.