"Stepping Stone" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morrison William)

By the time that most of the world's population was very displeased indeed,
Chesley's wife was sayingЧor screeching:
"Stepping stone! Now you've done it, Arthur, you've stepped your stepping stone
right out of a job entirely! How are we going to face my mother, Arthur? How? I
ask you, how can I go to see her in her new thirty-five-thousand dollar house
and tell her the man I married over her objections is fired? And what about
these taxes? We can't pay them, you know that! If you were half a man you'd go
to work in the V.G. like Elsie Morgenstern's husband down the block. They don't
have to worry about where their next meal is coming from andЧ And what about
those people that were blown up yesterday? They were out of a job. The Viceroy
just killed them all, killed them, and I'd like to know what would happen to me
ifЧ Arthur! Now, come back here!"
Harry swabbed a damp cloth over the bar and looked up morosely. "What'll it be,
Arthur? Reeky-Cola, lemon fizz, a shot of ginger ale?"
"I'll take milk," said Chesley, sliding onto a stool. It wasn't the same, of
course. Taking one consideration with another, Chesley thought judiciously, the
Viceroy hadn't done a bad job of reorganizing the Earth in five weeks, even if
his most recent step was to abolish the production of certain synthetic rubber
articles which, in turn, abolished Chesley's job. But he shouldn't have
prohibited beer.
Harry poured the milk glumly and leaned on the bar, watching Chesley sip it.
"You know Flaherty?" he asked. "Well, he was one of them that got it yesterday."

"Flaherty? Ronald Flaherty?" Chesley was shocked. "You mean he was in that bunch
of out-of-work people that the Viceroy kiЧ"
"They was misled by corrupt agitators," Harry interrupted.
"Oh, no, Harry. I mean, Flaherty wasn'tЧ"
"They was misled by corrupt agitators," Harry repeated with great emphasis, and
he nodded his head toward the back of the bar. Where stacks of bottles once had
been, now there was a floral display around a placard that read:
Loyalty to the Viceroy is every Earthling's first duty.
-THE VICEROY
And under the placard, a microphone.
"I see what you mean," Chesley said quickly. "Yeah, they certainly were misled
by corrupt agitators."
He tasted his milk, and the milk wasn't sourЧno, no milk was sour, not after the
Viceroy had made a few examples of persons dealing in spoiled foodstuffs. But
Chesley's thoughts were. Those fifty persons had been picketing the Viceregal
Deputy Zone Commander's Headquarters, asking for jobs. And, bam, a violet flare;
and they were all dead.
It didn't pay to be unemployed, that was the first conclusion he reached.
But what could he do about it? Dr. Pebrick, Chief Managing Chemist of the
synthetic rubber works, had made it very clear that he was lucky to hang onto
his job, and there was no possibility whatever that Chesley would be rehired.
He would have to get a job somewhere else. That was the second conclusion.
Chesley sighed and finished his milk. "Say, Harry," he called. "Got a New York
Times?"
"Yeah." The barkeep pulled a folded paper out of the otherwise empty bar-tools
rack under the counter. "Here."
"Thanks," said Chesley, opening it to the Help Wanted section. "And let me have