"William Tenn - The Tenants" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tenn William)

The Tenants
William Tenn
When Miss Kerstenberg, his secretary, informed Sydney Blake over the interoffice communicator that
two gentlemen had just entered and expressed a desire to rent space in the building, Blake's "Well, show
them in, Esther, show them right in," was bland enough to have loosened the cap on a jar of Vaseline. It
had been only two days since Wellington Jimm & Sons, Inc., Real Estate, had appointed him resident
agent in the McGowan Building, and the prospect of unloading an office or two in Old Unrentable this
early in his assignment was mightily pleasing.
Once, however, he had seen the tenants-to-be, he felt much less certain. About practically
everything.
They were exactly alike in every respect but one: size. The first was tall, very, very tallтАФclose to
seven feet, Blake estimated as he rose to welcome them. The man was bent in two places: forward at the
hips and backward at the shoulders, giving the impression of being hinged instead of jointed. Behind him
rolled a tiny button of a man, a midget's midget, but except for that the tall man's twin. They both wore
starched, white shirts and black hats, black coats, black ties, black suits, black socks, and shoes of such
incredible blackness as almost to drown the light waves that blun-dered into them.
They took seats and smiled at BlakeтАФin unison.
"Uh, Miss Kerstenberg," he said to his secretary, who still stood in the doorway.
"Yes, Mr. Blake?" she asked briskly.
"Uh, nothing, Miss Kerstenberg. Nothing at all." Regretfully, he watched her shut the door and heard
her swivel chair squeak as she went back to work in the outer office. It was distinctly unfortunate that,
not being telepathic, she had been unable to receive his urgent thought message to stay and lend some
useful moral support.
Oh, well. You couldn't expect Dun & Bradstreet's best to be renting offices in the McGowan. He
sat down and offered them cigarettes from his brand-new humidor. They declined.
"We would like," the tall man said in a voice composed of many heavy breaths, "to rent a floor in
your building."
"The thirteenth floor," said the tiny man in exactly the same voice.
Sydney Blake lit a cigarette and drew on it carefully. A whole floor! You certainly couldn't judge by
appearances.
"I'm sorry," he told them. "You can't have the thirteenth floor. ButтАФ"
"Why not?" the tall man breathed. He looked angry.
"Chiefly because there isn't any thirteenth floor. Many buildings don't have one. Since tenants
consider them unlucky, we call the floor above the twelfth the four-teenth. If you gentlemen will look at
our directory, you will see that there are no offices listed beginning with the number 13. However, if
you're interested in that much space, I believe we can accommodate you on the sixthтАФ"
"It seems to me," the tall man said very mournfully, "that if someone wants to rent a particular floor,
the least a renting agent can do is let him have it."
"The very least," the tiny man agreed. "Especially since no complicated mathemati-cal questions are
being asked in the first place."
Blake held on to his temper with difficulty and let out a friendly chuckle instead. "I would be very
happy to rent the thirteenth floor to youтАФif we had one. But I can't very well rent something to you that
doesn't exist, now can I?" He held his hands out, palms up, and gave them another
we-are-three-intelligent-gentlemen-who-are-quite-close-in-spirit chuckle. "The twelfth and fourteenth
floors both have very little unoccupied space, I am happy to say. But I'm certain that another part of the
McGowan Building will do you very nicely." Abruptly he remembered that protocol had almost been
violated. "My name," he told them, touching the desk plate lightly with a mani-cured forefinger, "is
Sydney Blake. And who, might IтАФ"
"Tohu and Bohu," the tall man said.
"I beg your pardon?"