"Mack Reynolds - Romp" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Mack)

He had no real excuse for being what he wasтАФ except he was born that way. And he had
old-fashioned ideas derived from tales of long ago. Which had the usual effect inappropriate ideas
haveтАФ

ROMP / MACK REYNOLDS

Rosy Porras shucked off his jerkin and began to shrug into the holster harness. As he settled it
around his chest, he scowled at the row of sport jerkins in his closet. Styles these days weren't conducive
to concealing a heavy-calibered shooter.
A bell tinkled and Rosy turned his scowl to the screen sitting next to the bed. He wasn't expecting
anybody. He hesitated a moment, unbuckled the harness again and threw it into a chair, then went over
and flicked the door screen switch.
It was a stranger. Young, efficient looking, his suit seeming all but a uniform, his face expressionless.
Rosy pursed his lips in surprise. Well, there was no putting it off. He reversed the switch so the other
could see him as well and said, "Yeah?"
The stranger said, "Phidias Porras?"
Rosy winced at the use of his real first name. It had been some time since he had been exposed to it.
He growled, "What'd you want?"
The other said, "Willard Rhuling, Category Government, Subdivision Police, Branch Distribution
Services. I'd like to talk to you, Citizen."
Rosy Porras scowled at him. A DS snooper. That's all he needed right now, with the boys expecting
him in a few minutes.
"About what?" Rosy said. "Listen, I'm busy."
The other looked at him patiently. "About your sources of income, Citizen."
Rosy said, "That's none of your business."
Willard Rhuling said, still patiently, "To the contrary, Citizen, it's my job."
"You got a warrant?"
Rhuling said slowly, "Do you really want me to get one, or can we sit down and just have a chat?"
"Wait a minute," Porras growled in disgust. He flicked off the screen, went over and picked up the
shooter and holster. He put them in a drawer and locked it and then left the bedroom and went on
through the living room to the apartment's front door. He opened it and let the DS man enter.
Willard Rhuling suddenly stepped close to him and patted him here, thereтАФa quick frisking.
Rosy Porras stepped back in indignation. "Hey, take it easy, you flat. What kind of curd you pulling
off?"
Rhuling said mildly, "I've heard you sometimes go heeled, even in this day and age, Phidias."
Porras winced again. "Listen, call me Rosy," he growled. "Everybody does." He led the way into the
living room.
Willard Rhuling let his eyes go around the room and did a silent whistle of appreciation. "No wonder,
in view of the fact that I can't find any record of you working since you came of age. Things are pretty
rosy, aren't they? How do you manage to maintain this apartment on the credit income from the
Inalienable Basic Common stock issued you at birth? Our records show you are only a Mid-Lower.
Your Inalienable Basic doesn't begin to call for a place like this. This is Upper-Middle, or even
Low-Upper caste, Porras."
Rosy had started toward the auto-bar, but, remembering what the evening had in prospect, changed
his mind and sank down into a chair. He didn't invite the other to be seated.
He said, "A friend loans it to me."
"I see. Where is this friend?"
"He's on a vacation over in Common Europe."
 "And when will he be back?"
"I don't know. It's a long vacation. Listen, what business is it of yours?"