"Mike Resnick - Pearly Gates" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

How long I remained there I do not know, for there is no
means by which one can measure duration there. I only know that I
felt I might as well have been in the Other Place, so bored was I
with the eternal peace and perfection of my surroundings. It is an
admission that would certainly offend all churchmen, but if there
is one place in all the cosmos for which I am uniquely unsuited,
it is Heaven.
In fact, I soon began to suspect that I was indeed in Hell,
for if each of us makes his own Heaven and his own Hell, then my
Hell must surely be a place where all my training and all my
powers are of no use whatsoever. A place where the game is never
afoot, indeed where there is no game at all, cannot possibly
qualify as a Paradise for a man such as myself.
When I was bored beyond endurance back on Earth, I had
discovered a method of relief, but this was denied me in my
current circumstances. Still, it was a craving for cerebral
stimulation, not for a seven percent solution of coccaine, that
consumed me.
And then, when I was sure that I was facing an eternity of
boredom, and was regretting all the chances I had foresaken to
commit such sins as might have placed me in a situation where at
least I would have had the challenge of escaping, I found myself
confronted by a glowing entity that soon manifested itself in the
outward form of a man with pale blue eyes and a massive white
beard. He wore a robe of white, and above his head floated a
golden halo.
Suddenly I, too, took on human shape, and I was amazed to
discover that I had not until this very moment realized that I had
no longer possessed a body.
"Hello, Mr. Holmes," said my visitor.
"Welcome, Saint Peter," I replied with my newfound voice.
"You know who I am?" he said, surprised. "Your indoctrination
period is supposed to be instantly forgotten."
"I remember nothing of my indoctrination period," I assured
him.
"Then how could you possibly know who I am?"
"Observation, analysis and deduction," I explained. "You have
obviously sought me out, for you addressed me by my name, and
since I have evidently been a discorporate being, one of many
billions, I assume you have the ability to distinguish between us
all. That implies a certain authority. You have taken the body you
used when you were alive, and I perceive that the slight
indentations on the fingers of your right hand were made by a
crude fishing line. You possess a halo while I do not, which
therefore implies that you are a saint. Now, who among the many
saints was a fisherman and would have some authority in Heaven?"
Saint Peter smiled. "You are quite amazing, Mr. Holmes."
"I am quite bored, Saint Peter."
"I know," he said, "and for this I am sorry. You are unique
among all the souls in Heaven in your discontent."