"Fritz Leiber - A Bad Day for Sales" - читать интересную книгу автора (Leiber Fritz)

telling phrase about тАЬthe passionate claws of a Martian sunrise.тАЭ
But no one bought. It wasnтАЩt quite time. Soon enough silver coins would be clinking, bills going through
the rollers faster than laundry, and five hundred people struggling for the privilege of having their money
taken away from them by AmericaтАЩs first mobile sales robot.
But there were still some tricks that Robie had to do free, and one certainly should enjoy those before
starting the more expensive fun.
So Robie moved on until he reached the curb. The variation in level was instantly sensed by his
under-scanners. He stopped. His head began to swivel. The crowd watched in eager silence. This was
RobieтАЩs best trick.
RobieтАЩs head stopped swiveling. His scanners had found the traffic light. It was green. Robie edged
forward. But then the light turned red. Robie stopped again, still on the curb.The crowd softly ahhed its
delight.
It was wonderful to be alive and watching Robie on such an exciting day.Alive and amused in the fresh,
weather-controlled air between the lines of bright skyscrapers with their winking windows and under a
sky so blue you could almost call it dark.
(But way, way up, where the crowd could not see, the sky was darker still.Purple-dark, with stars
showing. And in that purple-dark, a silver-green something, the color of a bud, plunged down at better
than three miles a second. The silver-green was a newly developed paint that foiled radar.)
Robie was saying, тАЬWhile we wait for the light, thereтАЩs time for you youngsters to enjoy a nice refreshing
Poppy Pop. Or for you adultsтАФonly those over five feet tall are eligible to buyтАФto enjoy an exciting
Poppy Pop fizz. Just give me a quarter orтАФin the case of adults, one dollar and a quarter; IтАЩm licensed to
dispense intoxicating liquors тАФand within five seconds ...тАЭ
But that was not cutting it quite fine enough. Just three seconds later, the silver-green bud bloomed
aboveManhattan into a globular orange flower. The skyscrapers grew brighter and brighter still, the
brightness of the inside of the Sun. The windows winked blossoming white fire-flowers.
The crowd around Robie bloomed, too. Their clothes puffed into petals of flame. Their heads of hair
were torches.
The orange flower grew, stem and blossom. The blast came. The winking windows shattered tier by tier,
became black holes. The walls bent, rocked, cracked. A stony dandruff flaked from their cornices. The
flaming flowers on the sidewalk were all leveled at once. Robie was shoved ten feet. His metal hoopskirt
dimpled, regained its shape.
The blast ended. The orange flower, grown vast, vanished overhead on its huge, magic beanstalk. It grew
dark and very still. The cornice-dandruff pattered down. A few small fragments rebounded from the
metal hoopskirt.
Robie made some small, uncertain movements, as if feeling for broken bones. He was hunting for the
traffic light, but it no longer shone either red or green.
He slowly scanned a full circle. There was nothing anywhere to interest his reference silhouettes. Yet
when-ever he tried to move, his under-scanners warned him of low obstructions. It was very puzzling.
The silence was disturbed by moans and a crackling sound, as faint at first as the scampering of distant
rats. A seared man, his charred clothes fuming where the blast had blown out the fire, rose from the curb.
Robie scanned him.
тАЬGood day, sir,тАЭ Robie said. тАЬWould you care for a smoke?A truly cool smoke? Now I have here a yet
unmarketed brand ...тАЭ
But the customer had run away, screaming, and Robie never ran after customers, though he could follow
them at a medium brisk roll. He worked his way along the curb where the man had sprawled, carefully
keeping his distance from the low obstructions, some of which writhed now and then, forcing him to jog.
Shortly he reached a fire hydrant. He scanned it. His electronic vision, though it still worked, had been
somewhat blurred by the blast.
тАЬHello, youngster,тАЭ Robie said. Then, after a long pause, тАЬCat got your tongue? Well, I have a little
present for you. A nice, lovelypolly- lop.