"Robert F. Young - Doll Friend" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

But for all his levity he felt depressed when the dance came to an end and he had to escort her back
to the juke-doll box. They said good night, and she blew him a kiss over her shoulder as she re-entered
the magic portal with her synthetic sisters. Carter headed for the bar straight-away.
He brooded over a beer, staring idly at the door behind the bar that opened on the stairs leading up
to the control room, wondering absently why he never saw the manipulators come and go when they
changed shifts. Presently he realized that this time when he'd asked Edie for a date, he'd only been half-
joking. Moreover, Edie тАФ or, more accurately, Ease's manipulatorтАФmust have realized it, too. He
waited for at least a modicum of embarrassment to apprise him that his infatuation had not quite
exceeded the bounds of reality; but all he felt was a poignant regret that the treasured 3:00-7:00 P.M.
interval of the day was rapidly drawing to a close.
At five after seven he left the Doll House and walked the three blocks to the corner where he met his
wife every week-day night. They took an airbus home тАФMarcia's Chevrolette was being summerized,
and Carter couldn't see exposing his Cadillette to the hazards of city drivingтАФand sat silently in the
semi-darkness, gazing idly at the projected photon signs that filled the April sky. Once the airbus flew
right through one that said, TRY A CAKE OF CLOUD SOAP AND SMELL LIKE AN ANGEL, and
he felt Marcia wince beside him.
He withheld his usual comment to the effect that it was high time she divested herself of her
goddess-robes of idealism and accepted the status quo. He was too worn out from the grueling 9:00
A.M.-5:00 P.M. stint at Brainstorm, Inc. to feel like arguing. Glancing sideways at her and noticing the
bluish crescents beneath her dark liquid eyes, it occurred to him that she was probably tired, too.
Well let her be tired! he thought. No one was making her workтАФno one except her own stubborn
self. Lord knew, he'd never forced her to go out and get a job. That was her own ideaтАФand like most of
her ideas, there was no talking her out of it. He was willing to bet, though, that in another month or so
she'd talk herself out of it. Working in an age as subject to psychological pressures as the Age of
Mass-Creativity was, could become a pretty rough proposition, even when you had a job as easy as the
one she claimed to have.

In their split-level apartment, Marcia slipped out of her coat and went into the kitchen. Carter
removed his own coat and turned on the 3V set. Presently Marcia reappeared in the kitchen doorway.
"Steak and French fries or ham and scalloped potatoes?" she asked.
"Steak and French fries," Carter said.
She returned to the kitchen to open the appropriate vacuum-pac, and he sat down to watch the
seven-thirty edition of the Up To The Second News. Her after-image lingered on his retina: tall and dark
of hair; classic of features (except for the too-full lower lip); stately of neck and shoulders; Munroesque
of breasts . . . He regarded it wonderingly, trying to understand, as he so often had before, how anyone
could be so promising to look at and yet be so frustrating to live with. At length the after-image faded,
and he turned his attention to the news.
One of the roving cameras had just picked up the aftermath of a collision between an aircab and an
airbus. The airbus, in falling, had lodged between two apartment buildings, and white faces were
protruding from its windows, mouths round with screams which the audio unit was as yet too distant to
pick up. Above the scene, a rescue 'copter was hovering in the night sky, blades gleaming in the starlight,
and beyond its transparent hull the crew could be seen preparing to lower a huge magnet. Carter leaned
forward tensely. The best part about live news was its utter unpredictability: not even the producers knew
how any given event would come out.
Marcia came into the room. "The table's set, Floyd. Would you like to sit down now?"
"No, not now! Look what's happening, Quick!"

She glanced at the screen, turned away. At that very moment the airbus slipped free and fell the rest
of the way down between the two buildings. The audio unit was now in position, and there was the
gratifying crunch of metal, the rasp of steel on stone, followed by scream after scream after scream.