"Lewis Padgett - The Twonky" - читать интересную книгу автора (Padgett Lewis)

Kerry snapped on a lamp near by and went over to examine the new radio, Mideastern's latest model, with all the new improvements. It had been expensiveЧbut what the hell? He could afford it. And the old one had been pretty well shot.
It was not, he saw, plugged in. Nor were there any wires in evidenceЧnot even a ground. Something new, perhaps. Built-in antenna and ground. Kerry crouched down, looked for a socket, and plugged the cord into it.
That done, he opened the doors and eyed the dials with every appearance of satisfaction. A beam of bluish light shot out and hit him in the eyes. From the depths of the console a faint, thoughtful clicking proceeded. Abruptly it stopped. Kerry blinked, fiddled with dials and switches, and bit at a fingernail.
The radio said, in a distant voice, "Psychology pattern checked and recorded."
"Eh?" Kerry twirled a dial. "Wonder what that was? Amateur stationЧno, they're off the air. Hm-m-m." He shrugged and went over to a chair beside the shelves of albums. His gaze ran swiftly over the titles and composers' names. Where was the Swan of Tuonela? There it was, next to Finlandia. Kerry took down the album and opened it in his lap. With his free hand he extracted a cigarette from his pocket, put it between his lips, and fumbled for the matches on the table beside him. The first match he lit went out.
He tossed it into the fireplace and was about to reach for another when a faint noise caught his attention. The radio was walking across the room toward him. A whiplike tendril flicked out from somewhere, picked up a match, scratched it beneath the table topЧas Kerry had doneЧ and held the flame to the man's cigarette.
Automatic reflexes took over. Kerry sucked in his breath, and exploded in smoky, racking coughs. He bent double, gasping and momentarily blind.
When he could see again, the radio was back in its accustomed place.
Kerry caught his lower lip between his teeth. "Martha," he called.
"Soup's on," her voice said.
Kerry didn't answer. He stood up, went over to the radio, and looked at it hesitantly. The electric cord had been pulled out of its socket. Kerry gingerly replaced it. He crouched to examine the console's legs. They looked like finely finished wood. His exploratory hand told him nothing. WoodЧhard and brittle. How in hellЧ
"Dinner!" Martha called.
Kerry threw his cigarette into the fireplace and slowly walked out of the room. His wife, setting a gravy boat in place, stared at him.
"How many Martinis did you have?"
"Just one," Kerry said in a vague way. "I must have dozed off for a minute. Yeah. I must have."
"Well, fall to," Martha commanded. "This is the last chance you'll have to make a pig of yourself on my dumplings, for a week, anyway."
Kerry absently felt for his wallet, took out an envelope, and tossed it toward his wife. "Here's your ticket, angel. Don't lose it."
"Oh? I rate a compartment!" Martha thrust the pasteboard back into its envelope and gurgled happily. "You're a pal. Sure you can get along without me?"
"Huh? Hm-m-mЧI think so." Kerry salted his avocado. He shook himself and seemed to come out of a slight daze. "Sure, I'll be all right. You trot off to Denver and help Carol have her baby. It's all in the family."
"We-ell, my only sisterЧ" Martha grinned. "You know how she and Bill are. Quite nuts. They'll need a steadying hand just now."
There was no reply. Kerry was brooding over a forkful of avocado. He muttered something about the Venerable Bede.
"What about him?"
"Lecture tomorrow. Every term we bog down on the Bede, for some strange reason. Ah, well."
"Got your lecture ready?"
Kerry nodded. "Sure." For eight years he had taught at the University, and he certainly should know the schedule by this time!
Later, over coffee and cigarettes, Martha glanced at her wrist watch. "Nearly train time. I'd better finish packing. The dishesЧ"
"I'll do 'em." Kerry wandered after his wife into the bedroom and made motions of futile helpfulness. After a while, he carried the bags down to the car. Martha joined him, and they headed for the depot.
The train was on time. Half an hour after it had pulled out, Kerry drove the car back into the garage, let himself into the house, and yawned mightily. He was tired. Well, the dishes, and then beer and a book in bed.
With a puzzled look at the radio, he entered the kitchen and started on the dishes. The hall phone rang. Kerry wiped his hands on a dish towel and answered it.
It was Mike Fitzgerald, who taught psychology at the University.
"Hiya, Fitz."
"Hiya. Martha gone?"
"Yeah. I just drove her to the train."
"Feel like talking, then? I've got some pretty good Scotch. Why not run over and gab a while?"
"Like to," Kerry said, yawning again, "but I'm dead. Tomorrow's a big day. Rain check?"
"Sure. I just finished correcting papers, and felt the need of sharpening my mind. What's the matter?"
"Nothing. Wait a minute." Kerry put down the phone and looked over his shoulder, scowling. Noises were coming from the kitchen. What the hell!
He went along the hall and stopped in the doorway, motionless and staring..The radio was washing the dishes.
After a while he returned to the phone. Fitzgerald said, "Something?"
"My new radio," Kerry told him carefully. "It's washing the dishes."
Fitz didn't answer for a moment. His laugh was a bit hesitant. "Oh?"
"I'll call you back," Kerry said, and hung up. He stood motionless for a while, chewing his lip. Then he walked back to the kitchen and paused to watch.
The radio's back was toward him. Several limber tentacles were manipulating the dishes, expertly sousing them in hot, soapy water, scrubbing them with the little mop, dipping them into the rinse water, and then stacking them neatly in the metal rack. Those whip-lashes were the only sign of unusual activity. The legs were apparently solid.
"Hey!" Kerry said.
There was no response.
He sidled around till he could examine the radio more closely. The tentacles emerged from a slot under one of the dials. The electric cord was dangling. No juice, then. But whatЧ
Kerry stepped back and fumbled out a cigarette. Instantly the radio turned, took a match from its container on the stove, and walked forward. Kerry blinked, studying the legs. They couldn't be wood. They were bending as theЧthe thing moved, elastic as rubber. The radio had a peculiar sidling motion unlike anything else on earth.
It lit Kerry's cigarette and went back to the sink, where it resumed the dishwashing.