"Callahan 03 - Callahan's Secret 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Spider)

Which of course only inspired Doe Webster. "Damned if I'll be outpunned by a genuine son of a bitch," he boomed, and folks made way grinning for him as he stepped forward. Physically the Doc resembles a Sumo wrestler gone to fat. He is the All-time Punday Night Champion and probably always will be; only Long-Drink and I still cherish a hope of supplanting him anymore.
"As many of you know," the Doc began, "I just got back from visiting Juan Oitiz, an obstetrician friend of mine in Los Angeles. He was nominally on vacation, but one day there was an emergency delivery he just had to attend, so he deputized his brother-in-law Obie Stihl-honest to God, that's his name, I'd never make up a name like that-deputized Obie to show me around town. We went to Disneyland. Obie turned out to be a dedicated Star Wars freak, with a sense of humor even more depraved than my own- we passed by three sailors on the way in, for instance, and when he noticed they were all Chief Petty Officers, he niade sure to point out the 'Three C.P.O.s' (sounds of gagging and dismay from the audience). "So he took me to Adventureland, where you go on a Jungle Boat Ride. Robot hippos come up out of the water and spit at you and so forth." ("Maybe they were relatives of yours," Long-Drink murmured, and Callahan shushed him.) "But the worst part was the damned boat captain. Through the whole voyage he kept up a running monologue that had shin splints: bad jokes, worse puns, mother-in-law jokes even. I was in severe pain; fella thought he was a real hot dog. But the wurst was yet to come." (Gasps.) "As we got back to the wharf, just as I was stepping off the boat, Obie leaned over and whispered in my ear, 'Now you're getting to see the dock side of the farce..
A roar of collective anguish went up, and glasses began to fly toward the hearth. "Rest of us might as well fold up," Tommy Janssen said. "That's a winner."
"Strictly speaking," Callahan said with some reluctance, "I'm afraid it ain't. That story'd probably take the honors if this was Punday Night-but I don't really see it as a Tall Tale."
"He's right," Long-Drink said. "It's nice if the Tall Tale ends with a crime like that, but the Tale itself has to have fantastic elements to it. Sorry, Doc: syntax error."
The Doc frowned, but what could he say? They were right. And then divine fire touched me, as it had Noah a while earlier.
I wanted to impress my new love, and I wanted to help Doe Webster, and it just slipped out before I knew I was going to speak: "I'm surprised at you boys. The fantastic element in that story is staring you all right in the face."
Even the Doe looked puzzled. "How's that, Jake?" Callahan asked.
"Well, how many of you have ever toured Disneyland, or anyplace else, with a fictional character?"
The Doe was the only one who saw it coming; his frown left.
"Doe told you who his guide was: O.B. Juan's kin, Obie."
A frozen silence. Group catatonic shock. And then Ralph began to howl, and was joined by the rest. Every glass in the room, full or empty, began a journey whose terminus was the fireplace; Eddie tried to play the Star Wars theme but was laughing so hard he couldn't get his hands to agree on a key; Callahan reached threateningly for a seltzer bottle; Doc Webster shook my hand respectfully.
I glanced aroUnd for Mary to see if she was suitably impressed, and found her staring across the room. I followed her gaze, realized she was staring at Finn-and realized that Finn was in some kind of trouble.
He was sitting bolt upright in his chair, which he hardly ever does, being so tall, and he was paying no attention to the proceedings around him, and tears were running down his face. The last time I'd seen tears on Finn's face, years before, the planet Earth had been in serious jeopardy...

He got up and walked stiffly to the bar, and Mary and I moved wordlessly to where we could see what Finn was doing.
He was offering Mike Callahan ten singles. He wanted ten of something. Callahan was looking him over. "How much effect will that have on him?" Mary asked in a whisper.
"About like you or I gulping a double."
"Oh." She relaxed slightly.
"But it is extremely out of character for Finn. The last time I saw him order ten drinks was the first night he came here, years ago."

Many others at or near the bar knew the story; an audience was developing as Callahan reached his decision - "What'll it be, Mickey?"
"Rye, Michael." Just like that night.
"You want to talk about it?" Callahan asked. -"First the toast."
Callahan nodded at that, and set to work. He builds drinks the way Baryshnikov dances. Ten shots of rye soon sat before Finn. One after another the tall alien downed them. That first night he had thrown each individual empty into the fireplace and made the same toast ten times; this time he didn't bother. When he was done, some of the empties weren't even touching-but he picked the last one up and the rest came with it. He walked to the chalk line, faced the hearth. By now he had our attention.
"To my people," he said clearly and tonelessly, and flung the cluster of glasses. I hadn't known even Finn could throw that hard: there was a violent explosion in the fireplace. It is designed like a parabolic reflector, so that it is nearly impossible to make glass spray out of it; nonetheless, that bursting should have littered the room with shards. It did not for the same reason that my clothes were dry.

"Jesus, big fella," Long-Drink said. "What can we do?" There was a vigorous rumble of agreement on all sides.
Mickey Finn came back to Earth-an expression perhaps uniquely appropriate here-and looked around at us gravely. His composed features were at odds with the droplets running down them; I had the crazy thought that these were the raindrops that had failed to fall on him, time-shifted somehow to now. But of course it was just that Finn's still not used to hanging human expressions on his pan, and tends to forget in times of crisis: he truly was hurting.
"My Friends," he told us, "if I could think of anything you could do, I would surely tell you. Would surely have to1d you before now."
"Then tell us the problem," Tommy Janssen said. "Maybe we'll come up with something."
Finn tried a smile, a poor job. "I doubt it, Tommy. I have been thinking about this particular problem since I first came here, years ago, and I do not think there is a solution."
Callahan cleared his throat, a sound like a speeding truck being thrown suddenly into reverse. "Mickey, as you know, I don't hold with pryin' in my joint. If you don't feel like telling us your troubles, I'll coldcock the first guy that asks a leading question. But I strongly recommend that you unload. Little thing you might not know, having spent so many centuries alone- out in deep space: sometimes, just naming your burden helps. But it's up to you, pal."
Finn thought it over. "You may be right, Michael. You always have been so far. In fact, you have stated my problem. I am alone. I have been alone for centuries. I shall always be alone, until my death comes."
"The hell you say," Long-Drink burst out. "Why, counting the regulars that ain't in tonight, I make it about a hundred and fifty close friends you've got. You can stay at my crib anytime, for as long as you like, and the same goes for the rest of us, ain't that right?"
There were universal shouts of agreement. Finn smiled a pained smile. "Thank you all," he said. "You are true Mends. But your generous offer does not speak to my problem. I did not say I was lonely. I said I was alone."
"Mickey," Josie Bauer began silkily, "I told you once already-"
"Again, thanks," he said, sketching a gallant bow. "But it would, forgive me, hurt more than it would help."
"Hurt how?" she asked, not in the least offended.
"Physically, for one thing, it would hurt you. You recall the Niven story you lent me once, about Superman's sex life?"
"Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex', sure," she said.

"Yes," Finn said sadly. "Orgasm involves involuntary muscle spasm-and while I am not as strong as Superman, I am much stronger than a Terran man. And you are slightly built."

There was something peculiar about Finn's face. The eyes, that was it. His eyes hadn't looked like that since the first night he'd come here. Hollow, btirnt out, empty of all hope. Why hadn't they looked like that up on the roof? Or had I just failed to notice in the dark, distracted by lust? "It would hurt me, too," he went on. "Not physically-.-spiritually. Human females often become angry when I fry to explain this, Josie, please do not be offended, but would it not be fair to say that what you were just about to offer me was a transient sexual relationship?"
"Now, hold on a goddam-"
"I said, 'Please', Josie."
"-uh. . . dammit, Finn, I didn't mean a purely sexual-"
"Of course not; I do not believe myself that there is any such thing. No doubt it would have involved friendship and laughter and kindness and several other wonderful qualities for which you Terrans do not yet have words. But is not
the key word 'transient'?"