"Robert F. Young - The Worlds of Robert F. Young" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

developed it's no trick at all, even for an amateur to travel to any place he wants to in the galaxy in a
matter of just a few days."
It was a classic dodge, but dodge or not, it was still unassailable. Roger stood up. He knew when he
was beaten. "Well, don't take any wooden meteorites," he said.
"WhereтАФwhere are you going, Roger?"
"To a certain tavern I know of for a sandwich and a beer, after which I'm going to watch the New
YorkтАФChicago game on TV."
"ButтАФbut aren't you going to ask me to come with you?"
"Of course not. Why should I?'
A transformation Lorentz had never dreamed of took place in her eyes, leaving them a misted and an
incredulous blue. Abruptly she lowered them to her wrist watch. IтАФI can't understand it. My wodget
registers ninety, and even eighty is considered a high-compatibility reading."
A tear the size of a large dewdrop rolled down her cheek and fell with a soundless splash upon her
blue bodice. The scientist in Roger was unmoved, but the poet in him was touched. "Oh, all right, come
along if you want to," he said.
The tavern was just off Main Street. After phoning a diction teacher at the request of Alayne of Altair
and making an appointment for her for four-thirty that afternoon, he chose a booth that afforded an
unobstructed view of the TV screen and ordered two roast beefs on kummelweck and two glasses of
beer.
Alayne of Altair's sandwich disappeared as fast as his did. "Like another one?" he asked.
"No, thanks. Though the beef was really quite tasty considering the low chlorophyllic content of Earth
grass."
"So you've got better grass than we have. I suppose you've got better cars and better TV sets too!"
"No, they're about the same. Except for its phenomenal advance in space travel, our technology is
practically parallel with yours."
"How about baseball? Do you have that too?'
"What's baseball?" Alayne of Altair wanted to know.
"You'll see," said Roger of Earth gloatingly. Pretending to be from Altair VI was one thing, but
pretending to be ignorant of baseball was quite another. She was bound to betray herself by at least one
slip of the tongue before the afternoon was very much older.
However, she did nothing of the sort. As a matter of fact, her reactions strengthened rather than
weakened her claim to extraterrestrialism. "Why do they keep shouting, 'Go, go, go, Aparicio?тАЭ she
asked during the bottom half of the fourth.
"Because Aparicio is famous for his base stealing. Watch him nowтАФhe's going to try to steal
second."
Aparicio not only tried, he made it too. "See?тАЭ Roger said.
It was clear from the befuddled expression on Alayne of Altair's face that she did not see. "It doesn't
make any sense," she said. "If he's so good at stealing bases, why didn't he steal first base instead of
standing there swinging at that silly sphere?"
Roger gaped at her. "Look, you're not getting this at all. You can't steal first base."
"But suppose somebody did steal it. Would they let him stay there?"
"But you can't steal first base. It's impossible!"
"Nothing is impossible," Alayne of Altair said.
Disgusted, Roger let it go at that, and throughout the rest of the game he ignored her. However, he
was a White Sox fan, and when his idols came through with a 5-4 win his disgust dissipated like mist on a
summer morning, and so great was his euphoria that he told her he'd walk uptown with her to the diction
teacher's studio. On the way he talked about his poetic analysis of science, and he even quoted a few
lines from a Petrarchan sonnet he had done on the atom. Her warm enthusiasm sent his euphoria soaring
even higher. "I hope you had a pleasant afternoon," he said when they paused in front of the building in
which the diction teacher's studio was located.