"Lem - Seventh Voyage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lem Stanislaw)

galled me no end. Hungry and bleary-eyed, for I hadn't slept a wink,
I set about making breakfast, and was just wiping the dishes when
the rocket fell into the next gravitational vortex. I saw my Monday
self staring at me dumbfounded, lashed to the armchair, while
Tuesday I fried an omelet. Then a lurch knocked me off balance,
everything grew dark, and down I went. I came to on the floor among
bits of broken china; near my face were the shoes of a man standing
over me.
"Get up," he said, lifting me. "Are you all right?"
"I think so," I answered, keeping my hands on the floor, for my head
was still spinning. "From what day of the week are you?"
"Wednesday," he said. "Come on, let's get that rudder fixed while we
have the chance!"
"But where's the Monday me?" I asked.
"Gone. Which means, I suppose, that you are he."
"How is that?"
"Well, the Monday me on Monday night became, Tuesday morning, the
Tuesday me, and so on."
"I don't understand."
"Doesn't matter--you'll get the hang of it. But hurry up, we're
wasting time!"
"Just a minute," I replied, remaining on the floor. "Today is
Tuesday. Now if you are the Wednesday me, and if by that time on
Wednesday the rudder still hasn't been fixed, then it follows that
something will prevent us from fixing it, since otherwise you, on
Wednesday, would not now, on Tuesday, be asking me to help you fix
it. Wouldn't it be best, then, for us not to risk going outside?"
"Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "Look, I'm the Wednesday me and you're the
Tuesday me, and as for the rocket, well, my guess is that its
existence is patched, which means that in places it's Tuesday, in
places Wednesday, and here and there perhaps there's even a bit of
Thursday. Time has simply become shuffled up in passing through
these vortices, but why should that concern us, when together we are
two and therefore have a chance to fix the rudder?!"
"No, you're wrong!" I said. "If on Wednesday, where you already are,
having lived through all of Tuesday, so that now Tuesday is behind
you, if on Wednesday--I repeat--the rudder isn't fixed, then one can
only conclude that it didn't get fixed on Tuesday, since it's
Tuesday now and if we were to go and fix the rudder right away, that
right away would be your yesterday and there would now be nothing to
fix. And consequently..."
"And consequently you're as stubborn as a mule!" he growled. "You'll
regret this! And my only consolation is that you too will be
infuriated by your own pigheadedness, just as I am now--when you
yourself reach Wednesday!!"
"Ah, wait," I cried, "do you mean that on Wednesday, I, being you,
will try to convince the Tuesday me, just as you are doing here,
except that everything will be reversed, in other words you will be
me and I you? But of course! That's what makes a time loop! Hold on,
I'm coming, yes, it makes sense now..."