"Judith Merril - Connection Completed" - читать интересную книгу автора (Merril Judith)

For what?
He wasn't even sure who asked the question, let alone whether it had an answer. He couldn't trust
the certainty he felt. He hadn't even seen her face yet.
The dry wrinkled face pushed a mug at him across the counter.
"Sugarncream?"
Todd shook his head. "No, thanks." He fumbled in his pocket for change, cursing his clumsy fingers,
suddenly sure she would be gone when he turned around. Then:
Didn't I say "black" before? he wondered. He had to watch out. Ever since this thing started, he had
been worried about things like that. How could you tell if you were just going off your rocker? How
could you know whether you remembered to say things out loud at all?
You did. I heard you.
That's a big help! You heard me! I can hear you too, he snapped at her, and you never said a
word out loud! Hell, I don't know if you even thought a word!
He could just as easily be talking to himself. He was, anyhow. Even if this was all real, actually
happeningтАФeven if he wasn't just tripping a light fantastic down the path to a padded cellтАФhe was still
just talking to himself, effectively, until he was sure that she knew.
Stop fighting it, man! It's real, all right.
He had the dime in his hand finally, flung it across the counter, picked up his mug, slopping coffee
over the siles, and headed toward her table, with the familiar feeling of her smile lingering in his head after
the words began to fade.
The place was almost empty. There was no excuse for sitting at her tableтАФexcept the obvious one,
that he had come in for just that purpose. He sat down directly across from her, took one quick look at
her face, and it was all wrong. It wasn't the face that went with the green suit. She wasn't smiling. And
she didn't seem to be aware that he was there.
Todd burned his tongue on his coffee, and took another look over the edge of the cup. This time he
caught her by surprise and she turned away swiftly when their glances met. She was aware of him, then;
and she was frightened!
Scared stiff! she assured him. You're not real. I don't believe in you. Get out of here, will you?
God damn it, get out!
The vehemence of it almost convinced him. He wouldn't be shrieking at himself that wayтАФor would
he? What did he know about how a person feels inside when he's slipping his gears? It made sense for
her to feel just as scared and mad inside as he did . . . but if the whole thing was originating inside his own
mind, it made even more sense for her to sound that way. . . .
He knew just where that train of thought went: round and round and all the way back round again.
He put down his coffee cup, made a face over it, and looked straight at her.
"Would you pass the sugar please?" he said, and waited, watching.
She was scared, all right. Scared, or very tired, or both. He noticed, now, that there were long deep
lines running down from the inside corners of her eyes, along her nose, outlining tight-bunched muscles;
another set of lines striking down from the edges of her mouth; a taut set of defiance to her jaw. And in
the same instant, he realized her eyes were gray-green like the scarf, as he knew they ought to be, and
her lipstick was soft coral-pink like the roses on the scarf.
She was reaching for the jar of sugar automatically. Her face showed no reaction, no memory of
what he thought had happened a few minutes earlier, at the counter. He tried transposing her features, in
his mind, setting them in the other expression, the only one he'd "seen" before, relaxing all the tense
muscles, turning up the lips into a smile of warm acceptance. . . .
"Here," she said impatiently, holding the jar under his nose. He looked from her face to her hand and
back again, wondering how long she'd been holding it there while he stared at her. If she was the wrong
girlтАФif there was no right girlтАФ
There was a very small smile on her face now. Nothing like the look he was used to, but enough so
he was certain it was the same face.