"Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. The Final Circle of Paradise (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

felt that I did not trust him - the sight of him was
repellent, like that of a neglected sick man.
"You look poorly," I said. "You have changed a great
deal."
For the first time he looked me in the eyes.
"And how would you know what I was like before?"
"I saw you at Matia's. You smoke a lot, Rimeyer, and
tobacco is saturated regularly with all kinds of trash
nowadays."
"Tobacco - that's a lot of nonsense," he said with sudden
irritation. "Here everything is saturated with all kinds of
tripe.... But perhaps you may be right, probably I should
quit." He pulled on his jacket slowly; "Time to quit, and in
any case, I shouldn't have started."
"How is the work coming along?"
"It could be worse. And unusually absorbing work it is."
He smiled in a peculiar unpleasant way. "I am going now, as
they are waiting for me and I am late. So, till an hour from
now, or until tomorrow at twelve."
He nodded to me and left.
I wrote my address and telephone number on the table, and
as my foot plowed into the mass of bottles underneath, I
couldn't help but think that the work was indeed absorbing. I
called room service and requested a chambermaid to clean up the
room. The most polite of voices replied that the occupant of
the suite categorically forbade service personnel to enter his
room during his absence and had repeated the prohibition just
now on leaving the hotel. "Aha," I said, and hung up. This
didn't sit well with me. For myself, I never issue such
directions and have never hidden even my notebooks, not from
anyone. It's stupid to work at deception and much better to
drink less. I picked up the overturned armchair, sat down, and
prepared for a long wait, trying to overcome a sense of
displeasure and disappointment.
I didn't have to wait for long. After some ten minutes,
the door opened a crack and a pretty face protruded into the
room.
"Hey there," it pronounced huskily. "Is Rimeyer in?"
"Rimeyer is not in, but you can come in anyway."
She hesitated, examining me. Apparently she had no
intention of coming in, but was just saying hello, in passing.
"Come in, come in," said I. "I have nothing to do."
She entered with a light dancing gait, and putting her
arms akimbo, stood in front of me. She had a short turned-up
nose and a disheveled boyish hairdo. The hair was red, the
shorts crimson, and the blouse a bright yolk yellow. A colorful
woman and quite attractive. She must have been about
twenty-five.
"You wait - right?"
Her eyes were unnaturally bright and she smelled of wine,