"RESNICK, Mike - The Land of Nod" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

affluent suburbs.
"You have broken the laws of Kenya," he said. "And like it or
not, that is where you now live. I'm an official in the
government, and I will not have you constantly embarrassing me!"
He paused, struggling with his temper. "Look at you! I have
offered to buy you a new wardrobe. Why must you wear that ugly old
_kikoi_? It smells even worse than it looks."
"Is there now a law against dressing like a Kikuyu?" I asked
him.
"No," he said, as he commanded the miniature bar to appear
from beneath the floor and poured himself a drink. "But there _is_
a law against creating a disturbance in a restaurant."
"I paid for my meal," I noted, as we turned onto Langata Road
and headed out for the suburbs. "In the Kenya shillings that you
gave me."
"That does not give you the right to hurl your food against
the wall, simply because it is not cooked to your taste." He
glared at me, barely able to contain his anger. "You're getting
worse with each offense. If I had been anyone else, you'd have
spent the night in jail. As it is, I had to agree to pay for the
damage you caused."
"It was eland," I explained. "The Kikuyu do not eat game
animals."
"It was _not_ eland," he said, setting his glass down and
lighting a smokeless cigarette. "The last eland died in a German
zoo a year after you left for Kirinyaga. It was a modified soybean
product, genetically enhanced to _taste_ like eland." He paused,
then sighed deeply. "If you thought it was eland, why did you
order it?"
"The server said it was steak. I assumed he meant the meat of
a cow or an ox."
"This has got to stop," said Edward. "We are two grown men.
Why can't we reach an accomodation?" He stared at me for a long
time. "I can deal with rational men who disagree with me. I do it
at Government House every day. But I cannot deal with a fanatic."
"I am a rational man," I said.
"Are you?" he demanded. "Yesterday you showed my wife's
nephew how to apply the _githani_ test for truthfulness, and he
practically burned his brother's tongue off."
"His brother was lying," I said calmly. "He who lies faces
the red-hot blade with a dry mouth, whereas he who has nothing to
fear has enough moisture on his tongue so that he cannot be
burned."
"Try telling a seven-year-old boy that he has nothing to fear
when he's being approached by a sadistic older brother who is
brandishing a red-hot knife!" snapped my son.
A uniformed watchman waved us through to the private road
where my son lived, and when we reached our driveway the chauffeur
pulled our British vehicle up to the edge of the force field. It
identified us and vanished long enough for us to pass through, and