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World Of Ptavvs :: Нивен Ларри
Страница: 13 из 127I hope they send out the Lazy Eight III," he saidbetween his teeth. "They can't desert the colonies anyway. They can't do that."
Jansky refilled both cups. The workmen wheeled something through the huge doorway, something covered by a sheet. Larry watched them as he sipped his coffee. He was feeling completely relaxed. Jansky drained his second cup as fast as he had finished the first. He must either love it, Larry decided, or hate it.
Unexpectedly Jansky asked, "Do you like dolphins?"
"Sure. Very much, in fact."
"Why?"
"They have so much fun," was Larry's inadequate sounding reply.
"You're glad you entered your profession?"
"Oh, very. It would have surprised my father, though. He thought I was going to be a pawnbroker. You see, I was born with…" His voice trailed off. "Hey! Is that it?"
"Um?" Jansky looked where Larry was looking. "Yes, that is the Sea Statue. Shall we go and look at it?"
The three men carrying the statue took no notice of them. They carried it into the cubical structure of fine wire mesh and set it under one of the crystal-iron helmets of the contact machine. They had to brace its feet with chocks of wood. The other helmet, Larry's end of the contact link, was fixed at the head of an old psychoanalyst's couch. The workmen left the cage, single file, and Larry stood in the open flap and peered at the statue.
The surface was an unbroken, perfect mirror. A crazy mirror. It made the statue difficult to see, for all that reached the eye was a distorted view of other parts of the room.
The statue was less than four feet tall. It looked very much like a faceless hobgoblin. The triangular hump on its back was more stylized than realistic, and the featureless globular head was downright eerie. The legs were strange and bent, and the heels stuck out too far behind the ankle. It could have been an attempt to model a gnome, except for the strange legs and feet and the stranger surface and the short, thick arms with massive Mickey Mouse, hands.
"I notice he's armed," was Larry's first, slightly uneasy comment. "And he seems to be crouching."
"Crouching? Take a closer look," Jansky invited genially. "And look at the feet."
A closer look was worse. The crouch was menacing, predatory, as if the supposed alien was about to charge an enemy or a food animal. The gun, a ringed double-barreled shotgun with no handle, was ready to deal death. But-
"I still don't see what you're driving at, but I can see his feet aren't straight. They don't lie flat to the ground."
"Right!" Jansky waxed enthusiastic.
Jansky refilled both cups. The workmen wheeled something through the huge doorway, something covered by a sheet. Larry watched them as he sipped his coffee. He was feeling completely relaxed. Jansky drained his second cup as fast as he had finished the first. He must either love it, Larry decided, or hate it.
Unexpectedly Jansky asked, "Do you like dolphins?"
"Sure. Very much, in fact."
"Why?"
"They have so much fun," was Larry's inadequate sounding reply.
"You're glad you entered your profession?"
"Oh, very. It would have surprised my father, though. He thought I was going to be a pawnbroker. You see, I was born with…" His voice trailed off. "Hey! Is that it?"
"Um?" Jansky looked where Larry was looking. "Yes, that is the Sea Statue. Shall we go and look at it?"
The three men carrying the statue took no notice of them. They carried it into the cubical structure of fine wire mesh and set it under one of the crystal-iron helmets of the contact machine. They had to brace its feet with chocks of wood. The other helmet, Larry's end of the contact link, was fixed at the head of an old psychoanalyst's couch. The workmen left the cage, single file, and Larry stood in the open flap and peered at the statue.
The surface was an unbroken, perfect mirror. A crazy mirror. It made the statue difficult to see, for all that reached the eye was a distorted view of other parts of the room.
The statue was less than four feet tall. It looked very much like a faceless hobgoblin. The triangular hump on its back was more stylized than realistic, and the featureless globular head was downright eerie. The legs were strange and bent, and the heels stuck out too far behind the ankle. It could have been an attempt to model a gnome, except for the strange legs and feet and the stranger surface and the short, thick arms with massive Mickey Mouse, hands.
"I notice he's armed," was Larry's first, slightly uneasy comment. "And he seems to be crouching."
"Crouching? Take a closer look," Jansky invited genially. "And look at the feet."
A closer look was worse. The crouch was menacing, predatory, as if the supposed alien was about to charge an enemy or a food animal. The gun, a ringed double-barreled shotgun with no handle, was ready to deal death. But-
"I still don't see what you're driving at, but I can see his feet aren't straight. They don't lie flat to the ground."
"Right!" Jansky waxed enthusiastic.