"Love Is AnImaginary Number" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

I made myself young and strong again.

Then I descended the stair to the living room, moved to the bar, poured
out a glass of wine, sipped it until the music reached its fullest
intensity, then gulped the remainder and dashed the glass to the floor. I
was free!

I turned to go, and there was a sound overhead.

Stella had awakened.

The telephone rang. It hung there on the wall and rang and rang until I
could stand it no longer.

"You have done it again," said that old, familiar voice.

"Do not go hard with the woman," said I. "She could not watch me
always."

"It will be better if you stay right where you are," said the voice.
"It will save us both much trouble."

"Good night," I said, and hung up.

The receiver snapped itself around my wrist and the cord became a chain
fastened to a ring-bolt in the wall. How childish of them!

I heard Stella dressing upstairs. I moved eighteen steps sidewise from
There, to the place where my scaled limb slid easily from out the vines
looped about it.

Then, back again to the living room and out the front door. I needed a
mount.

I backed the convertible out of the garage. It was the faster of the
two cars. Then out onto the nighted highway, and then a sound of thunder
overhead.

It was a Piper Cub, sweeping in low, out of control. I slammed on the
brakes and it came on, shearing treetops and snapping telephone lines, to
crash in the middle of the street half a block ahead of me. I took a sharp
left turn into an alley, and then onto the next street paralleling my own.

If they wanted to play it that way, well--I am not exactly without
resources along those lines myself. I was pleased that they had done it
first, though.

I headed out into the country, to where I could build up a head of
steam.