"Lucifer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

He ate a piece of dried meat and finished the bottle. He allowed himself one
cigarette then, and returned to work.

He was forced to stop when it grew dark. He had planned on sleeping
right there, but the room was too oppressive. So he departed the way he had
come and slept beneath the stars, on the roof of a low building at the foot
of the hill.
It took him two more days to get the generators ready. Then he began
work on the huge Broadcast Panel. It was in better condition than the
generators, because it had last been used two years ago. Whereas the
generators, except for the three he had burned out last time, had slept for
over five (or was it six?) years.
He soldered and wiped and inspected until he was satisfied. Then only
one task remained.
All the maintenance robots stood frozen in mid-gesture. Carlson would
have to wrestle a three hundred pound power cube without assistance. If he
could get one down from the rack and onto a cart without breaking a wrist he
would probably be able to convey it to the Igniter without much difficulty.
Then he would have to place it within the oven. He had almost ruptured
himself when he did it two years ago, but he hoped that he was somewhat
stronger--and luckier--this time.
It took him ten minutes to clean the Igniter oven. Then he located a
cart and pushed it back to the rack.
One cube resting at just the right height, approximately eight inches
above the level of the cart's bed. He kicked down the anchor chocks and
moved around to study the rack. The cube lay on a downward-slanting shelf,
restrained by a two-inch metal guard. He pushed at the guard. It was bolted
to the shelf.
Returning to the work area, he searched the tool boxes for a wrench.
Then he moved back to the rack and set to work on the nuts.
The guard came loose as he was working on the fourth nut. He heard a
dangerous creak and threw himself back out of the way, dropping the wrench
on his toes.
The cube slid forward, crushed the loosened rail, teetered a bare
moment, then dropped with a resounding crash onto the heavy bed of the cart.
The bed surface bent and began to crease beneath its weight; the cart swayed
toward the outside. The cube continued to slide until over half a foot
projected beyond the edge. Then the cart righted itself and shivered into
steadiness.
Carlson sighed and kicked loose the chocks, ready to jump back should
it suddenly give way in his direction. It held.
Gingerly, he guided it up the aisle and between the rows of generators,
until he stood before the Igniter. He anchored the cart again, stopped for
water and a cigarette, then searched up a pinch bar, a small jack and a
long, flat metal plate.
He laid the plate to bridge the front end of the cart and the opening
to the oven. He wedged the far end in beneath the Igniter's doorframe.
Unlocking the rear chocks, he inserted the jack and began to raise the
back end of the wagon, slowly, working with one hand and holding the bar
ready in his other.