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The Stars My Destination ( Tiger! Tiger! ) :: Bester Alfred
Страница: 156 из 164» There was the sensation of laughter. «You'll be falling back into the past any moment now. Peter and Saul are here. They say au revoir and good luck. And Jiz Dagenham too. Good luck, Gully dear. .
«The past? This is the future?»
«Yes, Gully.»
«Am I here? Is . . . Olivia…?»
And then he was tumbling down, down, down the space-time lines back into the dreadful pit of Now.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
His senses uncrossed in the ivory-and-gold star chamber of Castle Presteign. Sight became sight and he saw the high mirrors and stained glass windows, the gold tooled library with android librarian on library ladder. Sound became sound and he heard the android secretary tapping the manual beadrecorder at the Louis Quinze desk. Taste became taste as he sipped the cognac that the robot bartender handed him.
He knew he was at bay, faced with the decision of his life. He ignored his enemies and examined the perpetual beam carved in the robot face of the bartender, the classic Irish grin.
«Thank you,» Foyle said.
«My pleasure, sir,» the robot replied and awaited its next cue.
«Nice day,» Foyle remarked.
«Always a lovely day somewhere, sir,» the robot beamed. «Awful day,» Foyle said.
«Always a lovely day somewhere, sir,» the robot responded. «Day,» Foyle said.
«Always a lovely day somewhere, sir,» the robot said.
Foyle turned to the others. «That's me,» he said, motioning to the robot.
«That's all of us. We prattle about free will, but we're nothing but response . . mechanical reaction in prescribed grooves. So. . .here I am, here I am, waiting to respond. Press the buttons and I'll jump.» He aped the canned voice of the robot. «My pleasure to serve, sir.» Suddenly his tone lashed them. «What do you want?»
They stirred with uneasy purpose. Foyle was burned, beaten, chastened, and yet he was taking control of all of them.
«We'll stipulate the threats,» Foyle said. «I'm to be hung, drawn, and quartered, tortured in hell if I don't . . .What? What do you want?»
«I want my property,» Presteign said, smiling coldly.
«Eighteen and some odd pounds of PyrE. Yes. What do you offer?»
«I make no offer, sir. I demand what is mine.»
Y'ang-Yeovil and Dagenham began to speak. Foyle silenced them. «One button at a time, gentlemen. Presteign is trying to make me jump at present.» He turned to Presteign. «Press harder, blood and money, or find another button.
«The past? This is the future?»
«Yes, Gully.»
«Am I here? Is . . . Olivia…?»
And then he was tumbling down, down, down the space-time lines back into the dreadful pit of Now.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
His senses uncrossed in the ivory-and-gold star chamber of Castle Presteign. Sight became sight and he saw the high mirrors and stained glass windows, the gold tooled library with android librarian on library ladder. Sound became sound and he heard the android secretary tapping the manual beadrecorder at the Louis Quinze desk. Taste became taste as he sipped the cognac that the robot bartender handed him.
He knew he was at bay, faced with the decision of his life. He ignored his enemies and examined the perpetual beam carved in the robot face of the bartender, the classic Irish grin.
«Thank you,» Foyle said.
«My pleasure, sir,» the robot replied and awaited its next cue.
«Nice day,» Foyle remarked.
«Always a lovely day somewhere, sir,» the robot beamed. «Awful day,» Foyle said.
«Always a lovely day somewhere, sir,» the robot responded. «Day,» Foyle said.
«Always a lovely day somewhere, sir,» the robot said.
Foyle turned to the others. «That's me,» he said, motioning to the robot.
«That's all of us. We prattle about free will, but we're nothing but response . . mechanical reaction in prescribed grooves. So. . .here I am, here I am, waiting to respond. Press the buttons and I'll jump.» He aped the canned voice of the robot. «My pleasure to serve, sir.» Suddenly his tone lashed them. «What do you want?»
They stirred with uneasy purpose. Foyle was burned, beaten, chastened, and yet he was taking control of all of them.
«We'll stipulate the threats,» Foyle said. «I'm to be hung, drawn, and quartered, tortured in hell if I don't . . .What? What do you want?»
«I want my property,» Presteign said, smiling coldly.
«Eighteen and some odd pounds of PyrE. Yes. What do you offer?»
«I make no offer, sir. I demand what is mine.»
Y'ang-Yeovil and Dagenham began to speak. Foyle silenced them. «One button at a time, gentlemen. Presteign is trying to make me jump at present.» He turned to Presteign. «Press harder, blood and money, or find another button.