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

serve mankind. If all he was good for was maid service, then so be it.
The woman had been putting on red nail polish. She reached back to
tighten the lid, but was unwilling to grip it with her wet nails. The bottle
went spinning. Bright red liquid poured out onto the white carpet, trickled
down the newly polished vanity.
"Oops," the woman said. "You'll get that, won't you? I've got to finish
getting ready; the guests will be here any min-
Laurell K. Hamilton
ute." She stood, waving her nails to dry them. She left him staring at the
spreading red stain on the carpet he had just shampooed.
His tiny hands balled into fists. He stood trembling with rage, unable to
utter a word. An eternity of thisтАФit was intolerable! But what else could he
do? Talk Dr. Grime out of retirement? No, the villain had made millions off
his memoirs. Memoirs of the Down and Dirty had been a best-seller.
Captain Housework stared at the slowly hardening stain, and a great
calmness washed over him. He had an idea.
The police found fourteen skeletons at #11 Pear Tree Lane. The bones
were neatly arranged, sparkling with polish, lacquered to a perfect finish.
The house had never been so clean.
Time for a Hero
BRIAN M. THOMSEN
Is informed consent a prerequisite for an action to be considered heroic?
The man on the table began to stir.
Good. He's coming around. He's our only hope!
The two doctors in attendance immediately positioned themselves on
each side of him, as he blinked his eyes, and began to regain consciousness.
"Thank God you're alright," offered the older doctor. "We didn't know
what to do. Why, if you hadn't come around, we would have had toтАж"
"Of course he came around," the younger doctor interrupted. "He's never
failed us before."
"Where am I?" said the patient, trying to shake off the last strains of
grogginess. "What happened?''
"You're in a special mobile military hospital. I'm Dr. Kir-schenbaum,"
said the older doctor. "The marines brought you here right after you passed
out. I've been watching you for the past two hours hoping you'd come
around. It's not as if we could treat you or anything, given your advanced
physiology and all."
"тАжBut we knew you'd come around," continued the other. "I'm Dr.
Parker, and we knew that it would take more
Brian M. Thomsen
than a direct hit on the forehead from a bazooka shell to stop you."
"Huh?" said the patient, not quite sure if he was really coming around or
just trapped in some bizarre waking dream.
"The bazooka shell," repeated Parker. "Don't you remember?"
"No. I don't remember anything. This all must be some dream. Getting hit
in the head would kill an ordinary manтАж probably blow him to bits. No, I'm
just not awake yet. This is all just a dream," he added, the pounding in his
head becoming more and more noticeable. "I'm going to just close my eyes,
go back to sleep, and wake up later when I'm not so delirious."
"You can't do that," insisted Dr. Kirschenbaum. "We need you. Surely