"Arthur C. Clarke. The fountains of paradise" - читать интересную книгу автора

No ship would ever again pass the Pillars of Hercules without saluting
the mightiest bridge that man had ever built - or, in all probability, would
ever build. The twin towers at the junction of Mediterranean and Atlantic
were themselves the tallest structures in the world, and faced each other
across fifteen kilometres of space - empty, save for the incredible,
delicate arch of the Gibraltar Bridge. It would be a privilege to meet the
man who had conceived it; even though he was an hour late.
"My apologies, Ambassador," said Morgan as he climbed out of the trike.
"I hope the delay hasn't inconvenienced you."
"Not at all; my time is my own. You've eaten, I hope?"
"Yes - when they cancelled my Rome connexion, at least they gave me an
excellent lunch."
"Probably better than you'd get at the Hotel Yakkagala. I've arranged a
room for the night - it's only a kilometre from here. I'm afraid we'll have
to postpone our discussion until breakfast."
Morgan looked disappointed, but gave a shrug of acquiescence.
"Well, I've plenty of work to keep me busy. I assume that the hotel has
full executive facilities - or at least a standard terminal."
Rajasinghe laughed. "I wouldn't guarantee anything much more
sophisticated than a telephone. But I have a better suggestion. In just over
half-an-hour, I'm taking some friends to the Rock. There's a son-et-lumiшre
performance that I strongly recommend, and you're very welcome to join us."
He could tell that Morgan was hesitating, as he tried to think of a
polite excuse.
"That's very kind of you, but I really must contact my office..." "You
can use my console. I can promise you - you'll find the show fascinating,
and it only lasts an hour. Oh, I'd forgotten - you don't want anyone to know
you're here. Well, I'll introduce you as Doctor Smith from the University of
Tasmania. I'm sure my friends won't recognise you."
Rajasinghe had no intention of offending his visitor, but there was no
mistaking Morgan's brief flash of irritation. The ex-diplomat's instincts
automatically came into play; he filed the reaction for future reference.
"I'm sure they won't," Morgan said, and Rajasinghe noted the
unmistakable tone of bitterness in his voice. "Doctor Smith would be fine.
And now - if I might use your console."
Interesting, thought Rajasinghe as he led his guest into the villa, but
probably not important. Provisional hypothesis: Morgan was a frustrated,
perhaps even a disappointed man. It was hard to see why, since he was one of
the leaders of his profession. What more could he want? There was one
obvious answer; Rajasinghe knew the symptoms well, if only because in his
case the disease had long since burned itself out
"Fame is the spur," he recited in the silence of his thoughts. How did
the rest of it go? "That last infirmity of noble mind... To scorn delights,
and live laborious days."
Yes, that might explain the discontent his still-sensitive antennae had
detected. And he suddenly recalled that the immense rainbow linking Europe
and Africa was almost invariably called the Bridge occasionally the
Gibraltar Bridge... but never Morgan's Bridge.
Well, Rajasinghe thought to himself, if you're looking for fame, Dr.
Morgan, you won't find it here. Then why in the name of a thousand yakkas