"Mikhail Bulgakov. The Fateful Eggs ("Роковые яйца")" - читать интересную книгу автораthin voice, "for intruding upon you and taking up your precious time, but
the news of your incredible discovery which has astounded the whole world compels our journal to ask you for some explanations." "What explanations, what whole world?" Persikov whined miserably, turning yellow. "I don't have to give you any explanations or anything of the sort... I'm busy... Terribly busy." "What are you working on?" the young man asked ingratiatingly, putting a second mark in his pad. "Well, I'm... Why? Do you want to publish something?" "Yes," replied the young man and suddenly started scribbling furiously. "Firstly, I do not intend to publish anything until I have finished my work ... and certainly not in your newspapers... Secondly, how did you find out about this?" Persikov suddenly felt at a loss. "Is it true that you have invented a new life ray?" "What new life?" exploded the Professor. "You're talking absolute piffle! The ray I am working on has not been fully studied, and nothing at all is known yet! It may be able to increase the activity of protoplasm..." "By how much?" the young man asked quickly. Persikov was really at a loss now. "The insolent devil! What the blazes is going on?" he thought to himself. "What ridiculous questions! Suppose I say, well, a thousand times!" Predatory delight flashed in the young man's eyes.' "Does that produce gigantic organisms?" "Nothing of the sort! Well, of course, the organisms I have obtained are bigger than usual. And they do have some new properties. But the main thing is not the size, but the dismay. Having filled up a whole page, the young man turned over and went on scribbling. "Don't write it down!" Persikov croaked in despair, realising that he was in the young man's hands. "What are you writing?" "Is it true that in forty-eight hours you can hatch two million tadpoles from frog-spawn?" "From how much spawn?" exploded Persikov, losing his temper again. "Have you ever seen the spawn of a tree-frog, say?" "From half-a-pound?" asked the young man, unabashed. Persikov flushed with anger. "Whoever measures it like that? Pah! What are you talking about? Of course, if you were to take half-a-pound of frog-spawn, then perhaps... Well, about that much, damn it, but perhaps a lot more!" Diamonds flashed in the young man's eyes, as he filled up yet another page in one fell swoop. "Is it true that this will cause a world revolution in animal husbandry?" "Trust the press to ask a question like that," Persikov howled. "I forbid you to write such rubbish. I can see from your face that you're writing sheer nonsense!" "And now, if you'd be so kind, Professor, a photograph of you," said the young man, closing his note-pad with a snap. "What's that? A photograph of me? To put in those magazines of yours? Together with all that diabolical rubbish you've been scribbling down. No, |
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