"Henry Kuttner - Gallegher Plus UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

Gallegher Plus

GALLEGHER PEERED DIMLY through the window at the place where his back yard should have been and felt his stomach dropping queasily into that ridiculous, unlikely hole gaping there in the earth. It was big, that hole. And deep. Almost deep enough to hold Gal-legher's slightly colossal hangover.

But not quite. Gallegher wondered if he should look at the calendar, and then decided against it. He had a feeling that several thousand years had passed since the beginning of the bulge. Even for a man with his thirst and capacity, it had been one hell of a toot.

"Toot," Gallegher mourned, crawling toward the couch and collapsing on it. "Binge is far more expressive. Toot makes me think of fire engines and boat whistles, and I've got those in my head, anywayЧall sounding off at once." He reached up weakly for the siphon of the liquor organ, hesitated, and communed briefly with his stomach.

GALLEGHER: Just a short one, maybe? STOMACH: Careful, there! GALLEGHER: A hair of the dogЧ STOMACH: O-O-O-OH!

GALLEGHER: Don't do that! I need a drink. My back yard's disappeared.

STOMACH: I wish I could.

At this point the door opened and a robot entered, wheels, cogs, and gadgets moving rapidly under its transparent skin plate. Gallegher took one look and closed his eyes, sweating.

"Get out of here," he snarled. "I curse the day I ever made you. I hate your revolving guts."

"You have no appreciation of beauty," said the robot in a hurt voice. "Here. I've brought you some beer."

"Hm-m-m!" Gallegher took the plastibulb from the robot's hand and drank thirstily. The cool catnip taste tingled refreshingly against the back of his throat. "A-ah," he said, sitting up. "That's a little better. Not much, butЧ"

"How about a thiamin shot?"

"I've become allergic to the stuff," Gallegher told his robot morosely. "I'm cursed with thirst. Hm-m-m!" He looked at the liquor organ. "MaybeЧ"

"There's a policeman to see you."

"A what?"

"A policeman. He's been hanging around for quite a while."

"Oh," Gallegher said. He stared into a corner by an open window. "What's that?"

It looked like a machine of some curious sort. Gallegher eyed it with puzzled interest and a touch of amazement. No doubt he had built the damned thing. That was the only way the erratic scientist ever worked. He'd had no technical training, but, for some weird reason, his subconcious mind was gifted with a touch of genius. Conscious, Gallegher was normal enough, though erratic and often drunk. But when his demon subconscious took over, anything was liable to happen. It was in one of these sprees that he had built this robot, spending weeks thereafter trying to figure out the creature's basic purpose. As it turned^ out, the purpose wasn't an especially useful one, but Gallegher kept the robot around, despite its maddening habit of hunting up mirrors and posturing vainly before them, admiring its metallic innards.

"I've done it again," Gallegher thought. Aloud he said, "More beer, stupid. Quick."

As the robot went out, Gallegher uncoiled his lanky body and wandered across to the machine, examining it curiously. It was not in operation. Through the open window extended some pale, limber cables as thick as his thumb; they dangled a foot or so over the edge of the pit where the back yard should have been. They ended in

ЧHm-m-m! Gallegher pulled one up and peered at it. They ended' in metal-rimmed holes, and were hollow. Odd.

The machine's over-all length was approximately two yards, and it looked like an animated junk heap. Gallegher had a habit of using makeshifts. If he couldn't find the right sort of connection, he'd snatch the nearest suitable objectЧa buttonhook, perhaps, or a coat hanger

Чand use that. Which meant that a qualitative analysis of an already-assembled machine was none too easy. What, . for example, was that fibroid duck doing wrapped around

with wires and nestling contentedly on an antique waffle iron?

"This time I've gone crazy," Gallegher pondered. "However, I'm not in trouble as usual. Where's that beer?"