"Judith Merril - Beyond Human Ken" - читать интересную книгу автора (Merril Judith)

Then he remembered. Of course! He patted the bed. "Nice job. Couldn't have done better myself."
The headboard curled against his hand and the walls vibrated with a humming noise that was astonishingly
like a baritone purr.
The shower, he decided, must have been one of those bril-liant yearning concepts he had once
entertained for a second or two and then forgotten. It was merely a matter of stepping into a roomy
cubicle dotted with multitudes of tiny holes and being sprayed with warm lather which stopped the
moment he was soaped up and was succeeded by plain water at the same tem-perature. As the lather
washed away, needle jets of air dried him completely.
He stepped out of the shower to find his clothes hung out-side, excellently pressed and smelling
faintly of laundry. He was surprised at the laundry odor, although he liked it; but then again that's why
there was an odorтАФbecause he liked it!
It was going to be an unusually fine day, he noted, after sug-gesting to the bathroom window that it
open; unfortunate that he hadn't brought any light clothes with him. Then, as his eyes glanced regretfully
downwards, he observed he, was now wear-ing a sports shirt and summer slacks.
Evidently his own soiled clothes had been absorbed into the economy of the house and duplicates
provided which had the pleasantly adaptive facilities of their source.
The hearts-of-palm breakfast he had worked out while stroll-ing downstairs was ready for him in the
dining room. The copy of Jane Austen's Emma he'd been rereading recently at meal-time lay beside it
open to the correct place.
He sighed happily. "All I need now is a little Mozart played softly." So, a little Mozart ...

Connor Kuntz's helicopter lazed down out of the mild sky at four o'clock that afternoon. Paul thought
the house into a Bunk Johnson trumpet solo and sauntered out to greet his guests. Esther Sakarian was
out of the plane first. She wore a severe black dress that made her look unusually feminine in contrast to
her customary clothes. "Sorry about bringing Doc Kuntz, Paul. But for all I knew you might need a medic
after a night in this place. And I don't have a 'copter of my own. He offered to give me a lift."
 "Perfectly all right," he told her magnanimously. "I'm ready to discuss the house with Kuntz or any
other biologist."
She held up a yellow sheet. "For you. Just came."
He read the telegram, winced and bit into his lower teeth with his uppers.
"Anything important?" Esther inquired, temporarily looking away from a pink cloud which seemed to
have been fascinating her.
"Oh." He crumpled the sheet and bounced it gloomily on his open palm. "Caroline. Says she's
surprised to discover I in-tended to make my permanent home up here. Says if I'm serious about it, I'd
better reconsider our engagement."
Esther pursed her lips. "Well, it is a nice long haul from Boston. And allowing that your house isn't
quite a dead issue . . ."
Paul laughed and snapped the paper ball into the air. "Not quite. But the way I feel at the moment:
love me, love my house. And, speaking of houses . . . Down, sir! Down, I say!"
The house had crept down the slope behind him as he spoke, extruded a bay window and nuzzled
his back with it. Now, at his sharp reproach, the window was sucked abruptly into the wall. The house
sidled backwards to its place at the top of the hill and stood quivering slightly. The trumpet solo
developed extremely mournful overtones.
"DoesтАФdoes it do that often?"
"Every time I move a little distance away," he assured her. "I could stop it permanently with a direct
over-all command, but I find it sort of flattering. I also don't want to step on a pretty warm personality.
No harm in it. Hey, Connor, what do you think?"
The doctor perspired his plump body past them and considered the noisy structure warily. "Just
howтАФI confess I don't know."
"Better give it up, Connor," Esther advised, "or you'll rup-ture an analysis."