"John Varley - Anthology - Super Heroes - Various Authors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Varley John)

problem with this mundane mess. His superhuman speed would make short
work of it all. But that wasn't the point. People did not call The Purple
Avenger to change a tire. They called him to save their lives.
Once they had called Captain Housework for the same thing. Dr. Grime
had nearly engulfed St. Louis in a giant rain of grease. All cars, trains, and
planes had come to a slippery halt. Pedestrians caught in the first greasy rain
had melted into puddles of sizzling goo. They had called for Captain
Housework then, and been glad to have him. But that had been ten years
ago.
Dr. Grime had retired. The Dust Bunny Gang had split up over
contractual differences. There just weren't that many supervillains who
specialized in true dirty work.
It wasn't really the mundane cleaning that bothered him. It was the repeat
business. People had been calling him back again and again to clean up after
them. He'd get a house spotless, perfect, and they'd mess it up again.
It was a never-ending drudgery. Even with superpowers over dust and
dirt, he was tired of it. They were taking advantage of him. But without any
supervillains to fight, a superhero had to fill some need. It was in his
contract that he had to be useful to mankind, just as a supervillain had to
harm mankind. If all the villains needing his special powers to thwart them
had retired, he had to answer the call of need.
 Captain Housework sighed and waved a white-gloved hand. The sofa
cushions danced back in place, fluffing themselves
A Clean Sweep
before snuggling down. "I am a glorified maid," he said softly to the
empty room.
The kitchen was the worst. Dishes were stacked nearly to the top of the
windows, thick with grease and moldy food. He conjured a super-scouring
wind and cleaned them with the force of a hurricane without cracking a dish.
When every room was spotless, he appeared before the woman who had
summoned him. "The house is clean, Madam."
"Oh, gee, thanks." She held out money.
Captain Housework stared at the offending hand. "I am a superhero, not a
servant. I don't need your money." His voice was very tight, each word bitten
off.
"No offense, I'm just grateful."
"Be grateful and don't call me again."
"But I want you to come back after the party and clean up," she said.
"You what?"
"The maid can't come tonight at all. I thought you'd clean up after the
party. The superhero hotline said you would."
"They said I would?"
She nodded. ' The operator on the hotline said you would be happy to be
of service. She said something about super-heroes needing to be of service
to mankind."
Captain Housework stared at the woman for a few heartbeats. He saw it
all then, his future stretching out before him. An eternity of cleaning up
after parties, repairing the damage of crayon-wielding tots and
unhousebroken dogs. He saw it all in the blink of his sparkling eyes. It was
intolerable, a hell on earth, but the woman was right. A superhero had to