"Robert Rankin - Knees Up Mother Earth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robert Rankin)

indeed the very protocols of cheese-making н formulated, if my memory fails
me not, by the Elders of Zion way back in the year known as dot н depend
upon numbers. It's all weights and measures and time-spans, not to mention
the number of holes."
Neville chose, upon this occasion, to heed Norman's words and not
mention the number of holes.
"Chickens, then," said Jim Pooley, who had once owned a chicken, having
been tricked into purchasing it by a gypsy who had assured him that it was a
goose. And one that laid golden eggs. Sporadically.
"Chickens, eh?" said Norman, who knew the gypsy in question and had
briefly considered running away to join the Romanys for a life of romance and
rheumatism. "Chickens are a prime example."
"Steak is a prime example," said Old Pete, whose half-terrier Chips was
rumoured to have once been an accountant named Trevor before he had been
transformed into a dog by a gypsy curse. "Prime rump steak. You'll never get a
decent steak out of a chicken."
"Doesn't matter what," said Norman, "feathered fowl or four-legged
friend. The numbers are there in the DNA. It's all been worked out by
mathematicians on computers. The entire universe is one big mathematical
equation."
"How big?" Pooley asked.
"Very," said Norman. "Same again, Neville."
"So, what is the point?" Pooley now asked.
"It's a kind of mathematical full stop," said Norman, informatively. "Its
technical term is the decimal point."
"That's not what I mean." Pooley made to sup ale but found his glass
empty. "Same again for me, Neville," he said. "Norman's in the chair. His
number just came up."
"It didn't," said Norman.
"It did," said Jim. "I've been counting. But what I'm asking you is this:
what is the point of trying to reduce the universe to a mathematical equation?"
"For the thrill of it," said Norman, and he meant what he said.
"You can see that he means what he says," said Old Pete.
"I do," said Norman.
"Then tell me this," said Old Pete, "can you reduce to a mathematical
equation the beauty of young girl's eyes filled with the first light of love?"
"Well--" said Norman.
"Or a baby's smile?" continued Old Pete. "Or the scent of a rose with
spring dew upon it? Or--"
"Stop," said Norman, "you're giving me a crinkly mouth." And he dabbed a
tear from his eye.
As did Jim Pooley. "Golly, Pete," said Jim, "I never knew you had such
feelings in you."
"I don't," said the oldster, amidst immoderate chucklings. "I'm just
winding up this buffoon."
"Thanks a lot," said Norman. "But numbers are everything and I firmly
believe that everything can be reduced to mathematics. Everything."
"Life, the universe, and everything?" said Jim. "The number you're looking
for is forty-two, is it not?"
"Don't you start," said Norman. "But I repeat: I sincerely believe that there