"Walter M. Miller - Dumb Waiter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Miller Walter M)

Mitch watched her and marveled at the tenacity of life. Then he resumed his northward journ
along the trash-littered road where motor vehicles no longer moved. But the gusts of wind broug
faint traffic noises from the direction of the city, and he smiled. The sound was like music,
deep-throated whisper of the city's song.
There was a man watching his approach from the next hill. He sat on an apple crate by the si
of the road, and a shotgun lay casually across his knees. He was a big, red-faced man, wearing
sweat-soaked undershirt, and in the sun his eyes were narrowed to slits. He peered fixedly at t
approaching cyclist, then came slowly to his feet and stood as if blocking the way.
"Hi, fellow," he grunted.
Mitch stopped and gave him a ,friendly nod while he mopped his face with a kerchief. But
eyed the shotgun suspiciously. "If this is a stickupтАФ"
The big man laughed. "Naw, no heist. Just want to talk to you a minute. I'm Frank Ferris." H
offered a burly paw. "Mitch Laskell."
They shook hands gingerly and studied each other. "Why you heading north, Laskell?"
"Going to the city."
"The planes are still fighting. You know that?"
"Yeah. I know they've run out of bombs, too."
"You know the city's still making the Geigers click?"
Mitch frowned irritably. "What is this? There can't be much radioactivity left. It's been thr
years since they scattered the dust. I'm not corn-fed, Ferris. The half-life of that dust is fi
months. It should be less than one per centтАФ"
The big man chuckled. "Okay, you win. But the city's not safe anyhow. The Centr
Computer's still at work."
"So what?"
"Ever think what would happen to a city if every ordinance was kept in force after the peop
cleared out?"
Mitch hesitated, then nodded. "I see. Thanks for the warning." He started away.
Frank Ferris caught the handlebars in a big hand. "Hold on!" he snapped. "I ain't finish
talking."
The smaller man glanced at the shotgun and swallowed his anger.
"Maybe your audience isn't interested, Buster," he said with quiet contempt.
"You will be. Just simmer down and listen!"
"I don't hear anything."
Ferris glowered at him. "I'm recruitin' for the Sugarton crowd, Laskell. We need good men."
"Count me out. I'm a wreck."
"Cut the cute stuff, boy! This is serious. We've got two dozen men now. We need twice th
many. When we get them we'll go into the city and dynamite the Computer installations. Then w
can start cleaning it up."
"
Dynamite? Why?" Mitch Laskell's face slowly gathered angry color.
"So people can live in it, of course. So we can search for foodwithout having a doz
mechanical cops jump us when we break into a store."
"How much did Central cost?" Mitch asked stiffly. It was a rhetorical question.
 Ferris shook his head irritably. "What does that matter now? Money's no good anyway. Yo
can't sell Central for junk. Heh, heh! Wake up, boy!"
The cyclist swallowed hard. A jaw muscle tightened in his cheek, but his voice came calmly.
"You help build Central, Ferris? You help design her?" "Wh-why, no! What kind of a questio
is that?"
"You know anything about her? What makes her work? How she's rigged to control all t
subunits? You know that?" "No, IтАФ"