"William Tenn - The Human Angle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tenn William)

paradoxтАФI wish you could read all the scientific papers on the subject; they fill
whole librariesтАФbecause it isn 't possible, the time specialists ar-gue, for a painting,
say, to be copied from a future repro-duction and so have no original artist. But that '
s what I'm doing! I'm copying from that book by memory! "
I wish I could tell him the truthтАФhe 's such a nice guy, especially compared to the
real fake of a Mathaway, and he suffers so much.
But I can't.
You see, he 's deliberately trying not to copy those paintings. He's working so hard
at it that he refuses to think about that book or even discuss it. I finally got him to
recently, for a few sentences, and you know what? He doesn 't actually remember,
except pretty hazily!
Of course he wouldn'tтАФhe's the real Morniel Mathaway and there is no paradox.
But if I ever told him that he was actually painting the pictures instead of merely
copying them from memory, he 'd lose whatever little self-confi-dence he has. So I
have to let him think he's a phony when he 's nothing of the sort.
"Forget it," I go on telling him. "A buck's a buck."

Wednesday's Child

When he first came to scrutinize Wednesday Gresham with his rimless spectacles
and watery blue eyes, Fabian Balik knew nothing of the biological contradictions that
were so incredibly a part of her essential body structure. He had not even
no-ticedтАФas yetтАФthat she was a remarkably pretty girl with eyes like rain-sparkling
violets. His original preoccupation with her was solely and specifically as a problem
in personnel administration.
All of which was not too surprising, because Fabian Balik was a thoroughly intent,
thoroughly sincere young office manager, who had convinced his glands
conclusively, in several bitter skirmishes, that their interests didn't have a chance
against the inter-ests of Slaughter, Stark & Slingsby: Advertising & Public Relations.
Wednesday was one of the best stenographers in the secretarial pool that was
un-der his immediate supervision. There were, however, small but highly unusual
der-elictions in her employment history. They consisted of peculiarities which a less
dedicated and ambitious personnel man might have put aside as mere trifles, but
which Fabian, after a careful study of her six-year record with the firm, felt he could
not, in good conscience, ignore. On the other hand, they would obviously require an
extended discussion and he had strong views about cutting into an employee's
working time.
Thus, much to the astonishment of the office and the confusion of Wednesday
herself, he came up to her one day at noon, and informed her quite calmly that they
were going to have lunch together.

"This is a nice place," he announced, when they had been shown to a table. "It's
not too expensive, but I've discovered it serves the best food in the city for the
price. And it's a bit off the beaten track so that it never gets too crowded. Only
people who know what they want manage to come here."
Wednesday glanced around, and nodded. "Yes," she said. "I like it too. I eat here
a lot with the girls."
After a moment, Fabian picked up a menu. "I suppose you don't mind if I order
for both of us?" he inquired. "The chef is used to my tastes. He'll treat us right."
The girl frowned. "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Balik, butтАФ"