"Metzger-PlanetOfDolphins" - читать интересную книгу автора (Metzger Robert)"Which is?"
Herman smiled. That was the question. He had no idea, but could only guess that it had something to do with Aqualand. That had to be the place, and the time had to be near. The cetaceans were getting anxious, sloppy, making mistakes. He'd smelled the seawater in the diner minutes before the orca had actually punctured the past. They were getting careless. Dr. Cutler looked up from his notepad. "What do you think this man from the future wants you to do?" Herman was about to tell Dr. Cutler to piss off, that he'd had enough of the inquisition for the time being, but he was interrupted. Ishmael walked into the room. He had not used the door, but had simply materialized as if he had walked around a corner that hadn't quite been there. He stood next to Dr. Cutler, with a toothpick in his stubby fingers, picking at something bloody that was between his front teeth. Herman jumped up from his seat and did an instant 360, looking for the attacker, certain that another orca was about to materialize. Nothing popped out of the air. "Inquiries are best made at the source," said Ishmael. Ishmael's bulging eyes, trying to make contact, desperately wanting to understand. His life might depend on that understanding. But Ishmael wasn't looking at him. He was staring down at Dr. Cutler. "Urrrrf." Herman looked at Dr. Cutler. The man had turned the color of nonfat milk -- pale white with a bluish tint. "Urrrrf," he said again. Herman fell into his chair. "You can see him," he said, not asking a question, but stating an obvious fact. No one had ever seen Ishmael except for himself. Ishmael had always walked some ultratight sliver of reality that had been tuned only to his brain. "Ishmael?" asked Dr. Cutler. Herman was impressed, actually amazed. Dr. Cutler's eyes were as big as golf balls, some muscle in his left cheek was twitching like a metronome on speed, |
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