"Ian Watson - Lambert, Lambert" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watson Ian)

LAMBERT, LAMBERT
by Ian Watson

Illustrated by Allen Koszowski


You must be finding your present situation pretty odd, eh? Bear up, pal! Chin
up. ThereтАЩs company awaiting you further on inside.

Why me?, youтАЩre wondering. I took pity on you, see. Yes, pity! I decided to
save you.

тАШCourse, once I started doing this trick of mine I developed a certain appetite
for it, as you might say. I wonтАЩt go so far as to call it a craving. If I craved, could I
control myself, could I choose my customers? Could I ration myself sensibly?
What-ever my girth, IтАЩm no glutton. No addict, me. I feel a definite relish; thatтАЩs
about it.

Listen up, lad, and youтАЩll understand. WhatтАЩs in a name? asked the Bard.
Quite a lot, I do believe. To a greater extent than chance can explain, peo-pleтАЩs
names can be unusually fitting. IтАЩd go so far as to say that in a good many cases the
name maketh the man.

Take me, Bert Brown. Blunt and solid, eh? Bert Brown could hardly be a
violinist or a philoso-pher. He could be a bus driver or a postman. In my case, a
prison camp guard. Right? You agree? Only my pals inside know differently.

Oh youтАЩll meet them just as soon as I do my trick the next time, and you get
squeezed within. Inter-esting company! Your sort. The people they put in these
camps are usually interesting, at least when they arrive and for a few months
after-wards. Then they stop being so interesting. Lack of the old brainfood, eh?
Gruel and thin soup, scabby veg and stale bread wears them down.

YouтАЩre still able to peep out. When that stops, youтАЩll meet the others. Oh I can
talk to them or just listen to them nattering but you canтАЩt yet.

By тАЬinsideтАЭ IтАЩm not of course referring to the electrified fences, the rows of
huts. IтАЩm talking about me. This here is my standard orientation lecture. How
thoughtful of me to provide one! Well, it calms you down. Otherwise you might
thrash around and give me a spot of indigestion, as тАШtwere. You might unbalance me
a bit; though for a fact that would take some doing! IтАЩm carrying ballast, chum. You
need to appreciate what a kindness IтАЩm doing you. IтАЩm sure youтАЩre catching on,
youтАЩre getting there.

Where were we? Oh yes, my name. BertтАЩs a use-ful sort of moniker to have
these days. DoesnтАЩt attract attention; doesnтАЩt mark a fellow out. ThatтАЩs how I see it.
ItтАЩs a name, if youтАЩll excuse my humour, lacking any colour.

But thirty years gone by, my Mum and Dad named me Lambert. Lambert
Brown. ThatтАЩs what Mum always called me when I was a nipper. тАЬMy little lamb,