"Robert Weinberg - Ro Erg" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weinberg Robert)

Something about receiving a new charge card without having to do anything more
than sign the enclosed application. Ron already had Visa and MasterCard and
American Express. He saw no reason for another piece of plastic. Why would they
even bother to ask?
Searching the front of the envelope for an explanation, he noted in annoyance that
the application wasn't even addressed to him. It was for a Mr. RO ERG. His eyes
narrowed as he stared at the letter. The address was right. It was his. But the name
was definitely wrong. No one named RO ERG lived in this house. Then, in a sudden
flash of insight, he understood.
He was RO ERG. The computer at the credit card company offices had
somehow taken the front two letters of his first name and final three letters of his last
name to form this new person. Quite out of character, he grinned. The name RO
ERG had a certain wild, untamed ring to it. He liked it. He liked it a lot. Uncertain of
exactly why, Ron Rosenberg slipped the application to Ro Erg into his pocket
behind the bills.
"Dinner's ready," declared his wife, interrupting his wandering thoughts. "Come
and get it while it's hot."
The form remained untouched the rest of the evening. Until, late at night, when
Marge's steady, deep breathing indicated she was fast asleep. Quietly, Ron slipped
out of their bed. Not that it mattered. He was the one who was a light sleeper. A
million minor annoyances and worries kept him awake for hours. Marge dismissed
as unimportant anything that wasn't an immediate threat. An earthquake wouldn't
disturb her slumber.
Sitting in the bathroom, Ron carefully opened the envelope and studied the
application within. It was exactly as he had suspected. The request was a mail-merge
letter, generated by an unthinking computer program. In three different places he was
referred to as "Mr. Erg." Ron found the missive unintentionally hilarious when they
commended Ro Erg on his outstanding credit record. Though he prided himself on
never retaining a balance on any of his charge cards, Ron had never expected his
frugality would entitle an imaginary entity to a $10,000 line of credit.
"Ten thousand bucks," he whispered aloud, the numbers suddenly dancing
through his head. That was a lot of money, a real lot of money. He closed his eyes,
feeling strange. FeelingтАж excited. "Ten thousand bucks."
Ron was extremely cautious with his finances. After all, he had to support his
wife, pay the mortgage on their house, and make the payments on their two cars. As
well as save for the future. There usually wasn't much money left from his paycheck
at the end of the month. Not that Marge believed in going out on the town anyway.
Renting a movie on videotape was her notion of an exciting evening.
His face burning with suppressed excitement, Ron headed for the kitchen. All his
life he had done what was right, what was proper. Now, for a change, he could do
something crazy and no one else would know. The plastic card meant nothing. He
would never use it. But just sending away for it was a small but still important act of
rebellion. That was what mattered.
Grabbing a magnetic pen off the refrigerator, Ron scribbled "Ro Erg" on the
signature line of the document. Quickly, before he could change his mind, he placed
the acceptance card into the postage-paid envelope and put it with the rest of the
mail.
"Can't do any harm," he murmured to himself as he settled back into bed. "I'm
just sending it in to see if they're stupid enough to follow through with the offer.
That's the reason. The only reason."