"Arkady & Boris Strugatsky - The Ugly Swans" - читать интересную книгу автора (Strugatski Arkady)

and threw on the floor. Then he started to wipe his hands.
"You've been fighting," said Victor. "Who with?"
"Raped by a slimy," remarked Dr. R. Quadriga, trying des-perately to focus his pupils which had
wandered off toward his nose.
"Not with anyone yet," answered Pavor. He gave the doc-tor a long look. The doctor failed to notice it.
The waiter brought the cognac. Pavor slowly drained his glass and stood up.
The Ugly Swans 19

"I think I'll go get washed," he said in an even voice. "Noth-ing but mud in the country, I've got shit all
over me." He left, colliding with the chairs.
"Something is happening to my inspector," said Golem. He flicked a wet napkin off the table. "Something
of universal proportions. You wouldn't happen to know what exactly?"
"You should know better than I do," said Victor. "He's in-specting you, not me. And then you know
everything. Inci-dentally, Golem, how did you get to know everything?"
"Nobody knows anything," objected Golem. "Some people have their suspicions. Very fewтАФthose who
want to. But you can't ask how they have their suspicions. Where is it raining to? What does the sun come
up with? Would you forgive Shakespeare if he wrote something like that? Actually, you probably would.
We can forgive Shakespeare a lot, he's not Banev. But listen, my dear man of letters, I've got an idea. I'll
polish off my cognac, and you finish this gin. Or are you already plowed?"
"Golem," said Victor, "did you know I'm a man of iron?"
"I suspected as much."
"And what follows from that?"
"You're afraid of rusting."
"Well, okay," said Victor. "But that's not what I mean. I mean that I can drink a lot and at length without
losing my moral equilibrium."
"Oh, I see," said Golem, pouring himself cognac from a decanter. "We'll take up this topic again."
"I can't seem to recall," said Dr. R. Quadriga suddenly in a
clear voice. "Have I introduced myself to you gentlemen? My
pleasure: Rem Quadriga, artist, doctor honoris causae, honor-
able associate. . . . You I remember," he said to Victor. "We
were in school together, etc., etc. As for you, excuse me "
"My name is Yul Golem," said Golem carelessly.
"S'my pleazhure. A sculptor?"
"No. Physician."
"Surgeon?"
20 The Ugly Swans

"The chief physician of the leprosarium," Golem explained patiently.
"Oh, yes," said Dr. R. Quadriga, shaking his head like a horse. "Of course. Sorry, Yul. Only why the big
front? You're no doctor. You're breeding slimies. I'll get you an introduc-tion. We need people like you.
Excuse me," he said suddenly. "I'll be right back."
He got out of his armchair and wandered off toward the exit through a maze of empty chairs. A waiter
hurried over to him, and Quadriga threw his arms around his neck.
"It's the rain," said Golem. "We're breathing water. This city has been breathing water for three years.
But we're not fish, and either we're going to die, or we're going to get out of here." He looked at Victor
seriously and sadly. "And the rain will fall on an empty city, it will wash the pavements, soak through the
roofs, the rotting roofs. Then it will wash everything away, the city will dissolve into primordial earth, but it
still won't stop, it will keep falling and falling."
"The apocalypse," said Victor, in order to say something.
"Yes, the apocalypse. It will rain and rain and the earth will drink its fill. The earth will be sown anew