"Robert Reed - 555" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Robert)pick up the receiver and a sound comes into my ear. It is loud and a little
harsh, and boring. As I hang up the phone, the Producer comes up next to me, explaining, "In old times, when there was television, we always gave fictional characters telephone numbers with the prefix 555." "Why?" "Because they weren't real phone numbers," he explains. "Nobody would be bothered if some idiot decided to dial the number." "Interesting," I say again. He stands close enough that I can feel his breath playing across my bare shoulder. "May I go home now?" I ask. He is disappointed, but only to a point. How can I ever really escape him? "With my undying thanks," he purrs. "Go home." CLAUDIA IS GRATEFUL, but the emotion makes her uncomfortable. Her beautiful face smiles, but there is a quality in the eyes--a keenness and an innate suspicion. "I guess I owe you a little something," she growls. Then she seems to notice her ungrateful tone, and softening her voice, she admits, "This is a very peculiar moment for me." For me as well, yes. "I promise," she says. "You'll get more lines from now on. More time in the limelight, and all that." "And a bigger office," Claudia offers. "I'll talk to the Producer and our new Head Writer. We can push back these walls... I don't know, maybe three feet... and give you a second window...." "There's no need," I purr. "The office is, and always has been, fine." She falls silent, surprised by my attitude. "What I want," I begin. Then I look out my window, creating an image of thoughtful certainty. "I want you to protect me. From everyone and the various distractions, I want distance. I want to be left alone. Do you understand?" She doesn't, but her nature makes her say, "Of course." "And I want you to listen to me, on occasion. When we're alone here, like now, I think you should pay attention to what I have to say." "What do you want to say?" Claudia asks. But I don't answer immediately. "Bring me others, too," I say. "Bring me your lovers, your enemies. Little souls without a name, even. Anyone you can find, anyone who won't be missed for a little while... bring them up here to spend time with me...." For the first time in her life, Claudia says, "I don't understand." "I agree. You don't understand." She bristles, the substantial breasts pushing out. "I'm grateful," she mutters, "but I'm still Claudia. The one and always Claudia Pontificate." I let the warning drop and die. Then looking out the window again, I say, "Something occurred to me today. Or long ago, and today I found the words to express my revelation." |
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