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

"I don't know," I said, "What was it about?"
"Well, I couldn't say exactly.... Son quarrels with
father. He has a friend, an unpleasant fellow with a strange
name. He occupies himself by cutting up frogs."
"Can't remember," I lied - poor Ivan Sergeyevitch.
"I can't remember either. It was some sort of nonsense. I
have a son, but he never quarrels with me, and he never
tortures animals - except perhaps when he was a child"
He backed away again and made a slow circuit around me.
His eyes were burning; he seemed to be very pleased.
"It looks as though we can stop here," he said.
I got out of the chair. "Not bad. Not bad at all,"
murmured the Master. I approached the mirror. He turned on
spotlights, which illuminated me from all sides so that there
were no shadows on my face.
In the first instant I did not notice anything unusual
about myself. It was my usual self. Then I felt that it was not
I at all. That it was something much better than I. A whole lot
better. Better looking than I. More benevolent than I.
Appreciably more significant than I. I experienced a sense of
shame, as though I were deliberately passing myself off as a
man to whom I couldn't hold a candle.
"How did you do this thing?" I said in a strangled tone.
"It's nothing," said the Master, smiling in a very special
way. "You turned out to be a fairly easy client, albeit quite
neglected."
I stood before the mirror like Narcissus and couldn't tear
myself away. Suddenly, I felt awed. The Master was a magician,
and an evil one at that, although he probably didn't realize it
himself. The mirror reflected an extremely attractive lie. An
intelligent, good-looking, monumental vapidity. Well, perhaps
not a total vacuum, for after all I didn't have that low an
opinion of myself. But the contrast was too great. All of my
inner world, everything I valued in myself - all that could
just as well have not existed. It was no longer needed. I
looked at the Master. He was smiling.
"You have many clients?" I asked.
He did not grasp my meaning, but after all, I didn't
really want him to understand me.
"Don't worry," he replied, "I'll always work on you with
pleasure. The rawest material is the most intriguing."
"Thank you," said I, lowering my eyes so as not to see his
smile. "Thank you. Goodbye."
"Just don't forget to pay," he said placidly. "We Masters
value our work very highly."
"Yes, of course," I caught myself. "Naturally. How much do
I owe you?"
He stated how much I owed.
'What?" said I regaining my equilibrium.
He repeated with satisfaction.