"William Tenn - Child's Play" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tenn William)

Child's Play
William Tenn


After the man from the express company had given the door an untipped slam, Sam Weber decided to
move the huge crate under the one light bulb in his room. It was all very well for the messenger to drawl,
"I dunno. We don't send 'em; we just deliver 'em, mister"тАФbut there must be some sensible explanation.
With a grunt that began as an anticipatory reflex and ended on a note of surprised annoyance, Sam
shoved the box forward the few feet necessary. It was heavy enough; he wondered how the messenger
had carried it up the three flights of stairs.
He straightened and frowned down at the garish card which contained his name and address as well
as the legendтАФ"Merry Christmas, 2353."
A joke? He didn't know anyone who'd think it funny to send a card dated over four hundred years
in the future. Unless one of the comedians in his law school graduat-ing class meant to record his opinion
as to when Weber would be trying his first case. Even soтАФ
The letters were shaped strangely, come to think of it, sort of green streaks instead of lines. And the
card was a sheet of gold!
Sam decided he was really interested. He ripped the card aside, tore off the flimsy wrapping
materialтАФand stopped.
There was no top to the box, no slit in its side, no handle anywhere in sight. It seemed to be a solid,
cubical mass of brown stuff. Yet he was positive something had rattled inside when it was moved.
He seized the corners and strained and grunted till it lifted. The underside was as smooth and
innocent of openings as the rest. He let it thump back to the floor.
"Ah, well," he said, philosophically, "it's not the gift; it's the principle involved."
Many of his gifts still required appreciative notes. He'd have to work up some-thing special for Aunt
Maggie. Her neckties were things of cubistic horror, but he hadn't even sent her a lone handkerchief this
Christmas. Every cent had gone into buying that brooch for Tina. Not quite a ring, but maybe she'd
consider that under the circumstancesтАФ
He turned to walk to his bed, which he had drafted into the additional service of desk and chair. He
kicked at the great box disconsolately. "Well, if you won't open, you won't open."
As if smarting under the kick, the box opened. A cut appeared on the upper sur-face, widened
rapidly and folded the top back and down on either side like a valise. Sam clapped his forehead and
addressed a rapid prayer to every god whose name he could think of. Then he remembered what he'd
said.
"Close," he suggested.
The box closed, once more as smooth as a baby's bottom.
"Open."
The box opened.
So much for the sideshow, Sam decided. He bent down and peered into the container.
The interior was a crazy mass of shelving on which rested vials filled with blue liquids, jars filled with
red solids, transparent tubes showing yellow and green and orange and mauve and other colors which
Sam's eyes didn't quite remember. There were seven pieces of intricate apparatus on the bottom which
looked as if tube-happy radio hams had assembled them. There was also a book.
Sam picked the book off the bottom and noted numbly that while all its pages were metallic, it was
lighter than any paper book he'd ever held.
He carried the book over to the bed and sat down. Then he took a long, deep breath and turned to
the first page. "Gug," he said, exhaling his long, deep breath.
In mad, green streaks of letters:

Bild-A-Man Set #3. This set is intended solely for the use of children between the ages of eleven and thirteen. The equipment,