JК
The Lovers :: Фармер Филип Хосе
Страница: 6 из 127Then, the doors opened at Hal's floor.
The hallways were fifteen feet wide, room enough at this time of day. Nobody was in sight, and Hal was glad. If he had refused to chat for a few minutes with his neighbors, he would have been regarded as strange. That might have meant talk, and talk meant trouble, an explanation to his floor gapt at least. A heart-to-heart talk, a lecture, and Forerunner only knew what else.
He walked a hundred meters. Then, seeing the door to his puka, he stopped.
His heart had suddenly begun hammering, and his hands shook. He wanted to turn around and go back down the lift.
That, he told himself, was unreal behavior. He should not be feeling this way.
Besides, Mary would not be home for fifteen minutes at least.
He pushed open the door (no locks on the professional level, of course) and walked in. The walls began glowing and in ten seconds were at full bright. At the same time, the tridi sprang into life size on the wall opposite him, and the voices of the actors blared out. He jumped. Saying, 'Great Sigmen!' under his breath, he hastened forward and turned off the wall. He knew that Mary had left it on, ready to spring into life when he walked in. He also knew that he had told her so many times how it surprised him that she could not possibly have forgotten. Which meant that she was doing it on purpose, consciously or unconsciously.
He shrugged and told himself that from now on he would not mention the matter. If she thought that he was no longer bothered by it, she might forget to leave it on.
Then, again, she might guess why he had suddenly become silent about her supposed forgetfulness. She might continue with the hope that he would eventually be unnerved, lose his temper, and start shouting at her.
And, once more, she would have won a round, for she would refuse to argue back, would infuriate him by her silence and martyred look, and make him even angrier.
Then, of course, she would have to carry out her duty, however painful to her. She would, at the end of the month, go to the block gapt and report. And that would mean one more of many black crosses on his Morality Rating, which he would have to erase by some strenuous effort. And these efforts, if he made them-and he was getting tired of making them-would mean time lost from some more-dare he say it even to himself?- worthwhile project.
The hallways were fifteen feet wide, room enough at this time of day. Nobody was in sight, and Hal was glad. If he had refused to chat for a few minutes with his neighbors, he would have been regarded as strange. That might have meant talk, and talk meant trouble, an explanation to his floor gapt at least. A heart-to-heart talk, a lecture, and Forerunner only knew what else.
He walked a hundred meters. Then, seeing the door to his puka, he stopped.
His heart had suddenly begun hammering, and his hands shook. He wanted to turn around and go back down the lift.
That, he told himself, was unreal behavior. He should not be feeling this way.
Besides, Mary would not be home for fifteen minutes at least.
He pushed open the door (no locks on the professional level, of course) and walked in. The walls began glowing and in ten seconds were at full bright. At the same time, the tridi sprang into life size on the wall opposite him, and the voices of the actors blared out. He jumped. Saying, 'Great Sigmen!' under his breath, he hastened forward and turned off the wall. He knew that Mary had left it on, ready to spring into life when he walked in. He also knew that he had told her so many times how it surprised him that she could not possibly have forgotten. Which meant that she was doing it on purpose, consciously or unconsciously.
He shrugged and told himself that from now on he would not mention the matter. If she thought that he was no longer bothered by it, she might forget to leave it on.
Then, again, she might guess why he had suddenly become silent about her supposed forgetfulness. She might continue with the hope that he would eventually be unnerved, lose his temper, and start shouting at her.
And, once more, she would have won a round, for she would refuse to argue back, would infuriate him by her silence and martyred look, and make him even angrier.
Then, of course, she would have to carry out her duty, however painful to her. She would, at the end of the month, go to the block gapt and report. And that would mean one more of many black crosses on his Morality Rating, which he would have to erase by some strenuous effort. And these efforts, if he made them-and he was getting tired of making them-would mean time lost from some more-dare he say it even to himself?- worthwhile project.