"Robert F. Young - The Moon of Advanced Learning" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

Everyone hopes that the advanced thinkers are thinking what should be done about steel. But I know
damn well they are not.

The Bethlehem mill virtually gave birth to Chenango. As the plant grew, so too grew the town. The
houses and the business places multiplied the way grass does when you water it every day. The gin mills
grew like weeds. The steel mill comprises the major part of the town's tax base, and although production
at the mill is not what it once was, Chenango still remains big and bustling. The gin mills have survived
well. This is partly because of subpay and unemployment insurance. When a steelworker is laid off, he
has almost as much money to drink on as he had when he was working, and in most cases he would be
called back to work before his unemployment insurance or his subpay ran out. But now none of the
unemployed will be called back.
I have not been laid off yet, nor has my father. But soon both of us will be. I can find other work. It
won't pay half as much as my present job does, but I will be able to get by. But my father, although not
quite old enough to draw his pension, is too old to get a job that will pay more than peanuts.
What will he do?

The Moon of Advanced Learning has a per-square-inch albedo twice that of the real moon's. Its
radiance puts to shame the feeble glow from the streetlights. Walking in its illumination, I can almost feel
the thinkers thinking.

I am of Irish descent. Most of the people who live in Chenango are of Slavic descent, and there are
also many blacks. The mill drew poor people to this part of New York State. And the poor people have
become richтАФor as rich as most poor people can ever expect to get. But most of their wealth lies in
future paychecks. They have found out how wonderful it is to have Things, and they have bought Things
on time; but now they are afraid that the Things will be taken away.
I have a new electricar. I could easily drive back and forth to work. But in warm weather I never do,
since I live only a little more than a mile from the mill. So in warm weather I walk and let my wife have
the car.
It is Friday night, and I have the weekend off. I have my paycheck in my pocket. I used to cash my
paycheck in one of the numerous gin mills and get drunk, but this was before I got married. Now I take it
straight home with me and cash it the next day in the supermarket. I am not afraid to walk the streets of
Chenango even though they are infested with kids who like to beat people up and rob them. The people
they generally beat up and rob are old and feeble. They don't dare come near me. They remain in
doorways and alleys until I have gone by. I am big and broad of shoulder. I could make mincemeat of
them, and they know it.

My wife's name is Betty. After we got married, I bought a house in Chenango. Shortly afterward my
father built a house in the suburbs and moved there. What the hell, he said, I can afford it, so why not?
But he misses living in Chenango.
Although the house I bought is more than a mile from the mill, we get residue from the blast-furnace
discharges, and during the warm months when we leave our windows open, we can smell the acrid fumes
from the plant. But neither of us has ever minded the pollution. Betty has known it all her life, and so have
I. Without the pollution there would be no mill and no paycheck and no house. We've always thought
that whatever years the pollution might take away from us would be more than compensated for by the
paychecks I bring home.
The pollution is not so bad now as it was in my grandfather's day. Precipitators have been installed at
the mill at enormous company expense. Maybe they are one of the reasons this once mighty arm of
Bethlehem has become atrophied. But the people of Chenango did not ask the company to install them.
The people of Chenango are like the people of Donora, Pennsylvania. When, years ago, many of them
died from fumes from a zinc processing plant, those who survived did not want the plant to move. They