"Pohl, Frederik - The Midas Plague (txt)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pohl Frederick)

In quite a different tone, he said, УDear, whatТs the matter?Ф
No answer.
УCome on. What is it?Ф
She looked up at him and rubbed at her eyes. Almost sullenly, she said, УSorry.Ф
УI know youТre sorry. Look, we love each other. LetТs talk this thing out.Ф
She picked up her drink and held it for a moment, before setting it down untasted. УWhatТs the use, Morey?Ф
УPlease. LetТs try.Ф
She shrugged.
He went on remorselessly, УYou arenТt happy, are you? And itТs because ofЧwell, all this.Ф His gesture took in the richly furnished conservatory, the thick-piled carpet, the host of machines and contrivances for their comfort and entertainment that waited for their touch. By implication it took in twenty-six rooms, five cars, nine robots. Morey said, with an effort, УIt isnТt what youТre used to, is it?Ф
УI canТt help it,Ф Cherry said. УMorey, you know IТve tried. But back homeЧФ
УDammit,Ф he flared, Уthis is your home. You donТt live with your father any more in that five-room cottage; you donТt spend your eveflings hoeing the garden or playing cards for matchsticks. You live here, with me, your husband! You knew what you were getting into. We talked all this out long before we were marriedЧФ
The words stopped, because words were useless. Cherry was crying again, but not silently.
Through her tears, she wailed: УDarling, IТve tried. You donТt know how IТve tried! IТve worn all those silly clothes and IТve played all those silly games and IТve gone out with you as much as I possibly could andЧIТve eaten all that terrible food until IТm actually getting fa-fa-fat/ I thought I could stand it. But I just canТt go on like this;
IТm not used to it. IЧI love you, Morey, but IТm going crazy, living like this. I canТt help it, MoreyЧIТm tired of being poor!Ф

Eventually the tears dried up, and the quarrel healed, and the lovers kissed and made up. But Morey lay awake that night, listening to his wifeТs gentle breathing from the suite next to his own, staring into the darkness as tragically as any pauper before him had ever done.
Blessed are the poor, for they shall inherit the Earth.
Blessed Morey, heir to more worldly goods than he could-possibly consume.
Morey Fry, steeped in grinding poverty, had never gone hungry a day in his life, never lacked for anything his heart could desire in the way of food, or clothing, or a place to sleep. In MoreyТs world, no one lacked for these things; no one could.
Maithus was rightЧfor a civilization without machines, automatic factories, hydroponics and food synthesis, nuclear breeder plants, ocean-mining for metals and minerals.
And a vastly increasing supply of labor.
And architecture that rose high in the air and dug deep in the ground and floated far out on the water on piers and pontoons .
architecture that could be poured one day and lived in the next. And robots.
Above all, robots . . . robots to burrow and haul and smelt and fabricate, to build and farm and weave and sew.
What the land lacked in wealth, the sea was made to yield and the laboratory invented the rest . . . and the factories became a pipeline of plenty, churning out enough to feed and clothe and house a dozen worlds.
Limitless discovery, infinite power in the atom, tireless labor of humanity and robots, mechanization that drove jungle and swamp and ice off the Earth, and put up office buildings and manufacturing centers and rocket ports in their place .
The pipeline of production spewed out riches that no king in the time of Maithus could have known.
But a pipeline has two ends. The invention and power and labor pouring in at one end must somehow be drained out at the other. .
Lucky Morey, blessed economic-consuming unit, drowning in the pipelineТs flood, striving manfully to eat and drink and wear and wear out his share of the ceaseless tide of wealth.
Morey felt far from blessed, for the blessings of the poor are always best appreciated from afar.
Quotas worried his sleep until he awoke at eight oТclock the next morning, red-eyed and haggard, but inwardly resolved. He had reached a decision. He was starting a new life.
There was trouble in the morning mail. Under the letterhead of the National Ration Board, it said:
УWe regret to advise you that the following items returned by you in connection with your August quotas as used and no longer serviceable have been inspected and found insufficiently worn.Ф The list followedЧa long one, Morey saw to his sick disappointment. УCredit is hereby disallowed for these and you are therefore given an additional consuming quota for the current month in the amount of 435 points, at least 350 points of which must be in the textile and home-furnishing categories.Ф
Morey dashed the letter to the floor. The valet picked it up emotionlessly, creased it and set it on his desk.
It wasnТt fair! All right, maybe the bathing trunks and beach umbrellas hadnТt been really used very muchЧthough how the devil, he asked himself bitterly, did you go about using up swimming gear when you didnТt have time for such leisurely pursuits as swimming? But certainly the hiking slacks were used! HeТd worn them for three whole days and part of a fourth; what did they expect him to do, go around in rags?
Morey looked belligerently at the coffee and toast that the valetrobot had brought in with the mail, and then steeled his resolve. Unfair or not, he had to play the game according to the rules. It was for Cherry, more than for himself, and the way to begin a new way of life was to begin it.
Morey was going to consume for two.
He told the valet-robot, УTake that stuff back. I want cream and sugar with the coffeeЧlots of cream and sugar. And besides the toast, scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, orange juiceЧno, make it half a grapefruit. And orange juice, come to think of it.Ф
УRight away, sir,Ф said the valet. УYou wonТt be having breakfast at nine then, will you, sir?Ф
УI certainly will,Ф said Morey virtuously. УDouble portions!Ф As the robot was closing the door, he called after it, УButter and marmalade with the toast!Ф
He went to the bath; he had a full schedule and no time to waste. In the shower, he carefully sprayed himself with lather three times. When he had rinsed the soap off, he went through the whole assortment of taps in order: three lotions, plain talcum, scented talcum and thirty seconds of ultra-violet. Then he lathered and rinsed again, and
dried himself with a towel instead of using the hot-air drying jet. Most of the miscellaneous scents went down the drain with the rinse water, but if the Ration Board accused him of waste, he could claim he was experimenting. The effect, as a matter of fact, wasnТt bad at all.
He stepped out, full of exuberance. Cherry was awake, staring in dismay at the tray the valet had brought. УGood morning, dear,Ф she said faintly. УUgh.Ф
Morey kissed her and patted her hand. УWell!Фhe said, looking at the tray with a big, hollow smile. УFood!Ф
УIsnТt that a lot for just the two of us?Ф
УTwo of us?Ф repeated Morey masterfully. УNonsense, my dear, IТm going to eat it all by myself!Ф
УOh, Morey!Ф gasped Cherry, and the adoring look she gave him was enough to pay for a dozen such meals.
Which, he thought as he finished his morning exercises with the sparring-robot and sat down to his real breakfast, it just about had to be, day in and day out, for a long, long time.
Still, Morey had made up his mind. As he worked his way through the kippered herring, tea and crumpets, he ran over his plans with Henry. He swallowed a mouthful and said, УI want you to line up some appointments for me right away. Three hours a week in an exercise gymЧpick one with lots of reducing equipment, Henry. I think IТm going to need it. And fittings for some new clothesЧIТve had these for weeks. And, letТs see, doctor, dentistЧsay, Henry, donТt I have a psychiatristТs date coming up?Ф
УIndeed you do, sir!Ф it said warmly. УThis morning, in fact. IТve already instructed the chauffeur and notified your office.Ф