"Spider Robinson - Melancholy Elephants" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Spider)

"I can make an excellent guess. I hate guessing."
"I am heavily and publicly committed to the defeat of S.4217896."
"Yes, but for all I know you might have come here to sell out."
"Oh." She tried not to show her surprise. "What makes you think that
possible?"
"Your organization is large and well-financed and fairly efficient, Mrs. Martin,
and there's something about it I don't understand."
"What is that?"
"Your objective. Your arguments are weak and implausible, and whenever this
is pointed out to one of you, you simply keep on pushing. Many times I have
seen people take a position without apparent logic to it -- but I've always been
able to see the logic, if I kept on looking hard enough. But as I see it, S. '896
would work to the clear and lasting advantage of the group you claim to
represent, the artists. There's too much intelligence in your organization to
square with your goals. So I have to wonder what you are working for, and why.
One possibility is that you're willing to roll over on this copyright thing in
exchange for whatever it is that you really want. Follow me?"
"Senator, I am working on behalf of all artists -- and in a broader sense -- "
He looked pained, or rather, more pained. " -- for all mankind, oh my God,
Mrs. Martin, really now."
"I know you have heard that countless times, and probably said it as often."
He grinned evilly. "This is one of those rare times when it happens to be true. I
believe that if S. '896 does pass, our species will suffer significant trauma."
He raised a skeletal hand, tugged at his lower lip. "Now that I have
ascertained where you stand, I believe I can save you a good deal of money. By
concluding this audience, and seeing that the squeeze you paid for half an hour
of my time is refunded pro rata."
Her heart sank, but she kept her voice even. "Without even hearing the hidden
logic behind our arguments?"
"It would be pointless and cruel to make you go into your spiel, ma'am. You
see, I cannot help you."
She wanted to cry out, and savagely refused herself permission. Control,
whispered a part of her mind, while another part shouted that a man such as this
did not lightly use the words "I cannot." But he had to be wrong. Perhaps the
sentence was only a bargaining gambit ...
No sign of the internal conflict showed; her voice was calm and measured.
"Sir, I have not come here to lobby. I simply wanted to inform you personally
that our organization intends to make a no-strings campaign donation in the
amount of -- "
"Mrs. Martin, please! Before you commit yourself, I repeat, I cannot help you.
Regardless of the sum offered."
"Sir, it is substantial."
"I'm sure. Nonetheless it is insufficient."
She knew she should not ask. "Senator, why?"
 He frowned, a frightening sight.
"Look," she said, the desperation almost showing through now, "keep the pro
rata if it buys me an answer! Until I'm convinced that my mission is utterly
hopeless, I must not abandon it: answering me is the quickest way to get me out
of your office. Your scanners have watched me quite thoroughly, you know that
I'm not abscamming you."