"William Morrison - Date of Publication 2083 AD" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morrison William)

date of publication 2083 A. D.
by . . . William Morrison

Lending libraries have been known to make mistakesтАФbut never one so potentially explosive
as the time they sent Carrie the wrong volume.

Hypnotism, as anyone who has ever watched a snake charm a bird knows, is for older than
homo sapiens. Yet only since the eighteenth century days of Dr. Mesmer has it emerged from
priestly mambo-jumbo into the realm of science. Even today, despite its wide medical usage,
hypnotism is not wholly accepted. But in a hundred years тАж

IT SEEMED INCREDIBLE, thought Carrie Samason, that a simple postcard like that could have
involved her in so much trouble. If it had been something important, like her getting a new hairdo, or
rearranging the living room, or buying a new evening gown, she might have expected all sorts of perfectly
amazing results to follow. But from the postcard and the fact that she had sent James instead of going
herself, she expected nothing at all.
It had come, she remembered, that morning when she was so busy getting Barbara ready to go back
to college. All those clothes to try on, and hems to let out and shoes to fit, and right in the middle of
everything, "Dear Madam," she was informed, "The Perfect Hostess by Wilhelmina Hoskins, which you
reserved, is now being held for you. Please call for it within the next 48 hours."
At first Mrs. Samason was annoyed. She had reserved the book three months before and her feeling
of need for it had long since died away. Nevertheless, it occurred to her, a book which was in such
demand that you had to wait three months for it must be pretty good. It wouldn't hurt to take a look at it.
She spoke to James about it, but he was only eleven and there was a baseball game in which he had to
pitch and he didn't have any time, and honest, MomтАФ
"Either you get that book for me or you don't receive your allowance for next week," she said firmly.
James got the book for her. But on the way home he stopped off to play baseball and when he finally
arrived, she recalled, she hadn't asked him about it.
The next morning she remembered it just as he was leaving for school. "I put it in the parlor, Mom,"
said James and departed.
But she couldn't find it in the parlor and there were so many things to do, like cleaning up the mess
Barbara had left in her room and fixing the rips in James' pants тАФshe wondered if any other
eleven-year-old on earth could rip so much so oftenтАФthat she forgot all about it for a while.
It was as if there had been no postcard, no book. At least that was the way it was for a time.
Two days later, when Bill came home from work, he dumped himself into an easy chair and said,
"Saw a funny thing today."
"I had a letter at last from Barbara," said Carrie absently, patting her hair into place and wondering
what her husband would think of her if now, at the age of forty, she dyed her hair red.
Bill always told her that as a brunette she was both young-looking and pretty. The question was,
would he tell her the same thing if she were a redhead? Probably not. Men were foolishly conservative
about such things.
"Barbara said school supplies are very expensive this year," she went on. "She wants more money."
"It was really funny." If she could ignore his conversation he could ignore hers right back. That was
one of the unfortunate things, she realized, that marriage taught a man. "You know that vacant lot with the
broken fence, where the kids play? Know who I saw playing baseball there today?"
"James, of course. But, Bill, Barbara saidтАФ"
"James was pitching. But you'll never guess who was catching."
Bill was being silly, just like the big baby he was. At his age, to think that a children's baseball game
was important! But she didn't mind humoring him. She guessed, "That big puffy-faced boy from down the
street, with the hair so blond it's almost invisible?"