Citizen in Spase. Stories / Гражданин в Космосе. Рассказы. Книга для чтения на английском языке

First, he would get the machine out of New York – upstate, perhaps – some place where he wouldn’t be bothered by nosy neighbours. The income tax would be tricky on this sort of thing. Perhaps, after he got organised, he should go to Central America, or…

There was a suspicious noise in the room.

Collins leaped to his feet. A hole was opening in the wall, and someone was forcing his way through.

“Hey, I didn’t ask you anything!” Collins told the machine.

The hole grew larger, and a large, red-faced man was half-way through, pushing angrily at the hole.

At that moment, Collins remembered that machines usually have owners. Anyone who owned a wishing machine wouldn’t take kindly to having it gone. He would go to any lengths to recover it. Probably, he wouldn’t stop short of —

“Protect me!” Collins shouted at the Utilizer, and stabbed the red button.

A small, bald man in loud pyjamas appeared, yawning sleepily. “Sanisa Leek, Temporal Wall Protection Service,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m Leek. What can I do for you?”

“Get him out of here!” Collins screamed. The red-faced man, waving his arms wildly, was almost through the hole.

Leek found a bit of bright metal in his pyjamas pocket. The red-faced man shouted, “Wait! You don’t understand! That man —”

Leek pointed his piece of metal. The red-faced man screamed and vanished. In another moment the hole had vanished too.

“Did you kill him?” Collins asked.

“Of course not,” Leek said, putting away the bit of metal. “I just veered him back through his glommatch. He won’t try that way again.”

“You mean he’ll try some other way?” Collins asked.

“It’s possible,” Leek said. “He could attempt a micro-transfer, or even an animation.” He looked sharply at Collins. “This is your Utilizer, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Collins said, starting to perspire.

“And you’re an A-rating?”

“Naturally,” Collins told him. “If I wasn’t, what would I be doing with a Utilizer?”

“No offence,” Leek said drowsily, “just being friendly.” He shook his head slowly. “How you A’s get around? I suppose you’ve come back here to do a history book?”

Collins just smiled enigmatically.

“I’ll be on my way,” Leek said, yawning copiously. “On the go, night and day.[23] Id’ be better off in a quarry.”

And he vanished in the middle of a yawn.

Rain was still beating against the ceiling. Across the airshaft, the snoring continued, undisturbed. Collins was alone again, with the machine.

And with a thousand dollars in small bills scattered around the floor.

He patted the Utilizer affectionately. Those A-ratings had it pretty good. Want something? Just ask for it and press a button. Undoubtedly, the real owner missed it.

Leek had said that the man might try to get in some other way. What way?

What did it matter? Collins gathered up the bills, whistling softly. As long as he had the wishing machine, he could take care of himself.

* * *

The next few days marked a great change in Collins’s fortunes. With the aid of the Powha Minnile Movers he took the Utilizer to upstate New York. There, he bought a medium-sized mountain in a neglected corner of the Adirondacks. Once the papers were in his hands, he walked to the centre of his property, several miles from the highway. The two movers, sweating profusely, lugged the Utilizer behind him, cursing monotonously as they broke through the dense underbrush.

“Set it down here and scram,” Collins said. The last few days had done a lot for his confidence.

The moving men sighed wearily and vanished. Collins looked around. On all sides, as far as he could see, was closely spaced forest of birch and pine. The air was sweet and damp. Birds were chirping merrily in the treetops, and an occasional squirrel darted by.

Nature! He had always loved nature. This would be the perfect spot to build a large, impressive house with a swimming pool, tennis courts and, possibly, a small airport.

“I want a house,” Collins stated firmly, and pushed the red button.

A man in a neat grey business suit and pince-nez appeared. “Yes, sir,” he said, squinting at the trees, “but you really must be more specific. Do you want something classic, like a bungalow, ranch, split-level, mansion, castle or palace? Or primitive, like an igloo or hut? Since you are an A, you could have something up-to-the-minute, like a semiface, an Extended New or a Sunken Miniature.”

“Huh?” Collins said. “I don’t know. What would you suggest?”

“Small mansion,” the man said promptly. “They usually start with that.”

“They do?”

“Oh, yes. Later, they move to a warm climate and build a palace.”

Collins wanted to ask more questions, but he decided against it. Everything was going smoothly. These people thought he was an A, and the true owner of the Utilizer. There was no sense in disenchanting them.

“You take care of it all,” he told the man.

“Yes, sir,” the man said. “I usually do.”

The rest of the day, Collins reclined on a couch and drank iced beverages while the Maxima Olph Construction Company materialised equipment and put up his house.