rr.eastofealing-第5章

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　'Never。　Forty。'
　Omally　laughed。　'Always　the　wag。　But　truthfully；　I　attribute　my　good　health　to　the　fort　afforded　by　my　bed。　There　is　a　science　in　these　things；　and　believe　me；　I　have　studied　this　particular　science。'
　'Never　given　the　matter　much　thought；'　said　Old　Pete。
　'So　much　I　suspected；'　said　John。　'You；　as　an　elderly　gentleman；　and　by　that　I　mean　no　offence；　must　first　look　after　your　health。　Lying　upon　an　unfortable　bed　can　take　years　off　your　life。'
　'As　it　happens；　my　old　bed　is　a　bit　knackered。'
　'Then　there　you　have　it。'　Omally　smacked　his　hands　together。　'You　are　throwing　away　your　life　for　a　few　pennies　wisely　invested　in　your　own　interest。'
　'I　am　a　fool　to　myself；'　said　Old　Pete；　who　definitely　wasn't。　'What　are　you　selling；　John？'
　Omally　tapped　at　his　nose；　'Something　very；　very　special。　The　proper　palatial　pit。　The　very　acme　of　sleeping　paraphernalia。　Into　my　possession　has　e　of　late　a　bed　which　would　stagger　the　senses　of　the　gods。　Now　had　I　the　acmodation　I　would　truly　claim　such　a　prize　for　my　own。　But　my　apartments　are　small　and　I　know　that　yours　could　easily　house　such　a　find。　What　do　you　say？'
　'I'll　want　to　have　a　look　at　the　bugger　first；　five…thirty　p。m。　tonight；　here。'
　Omally　spat　upon　his　palm　and　smacked　it　down　into　the　wrinkled　appendage　of　the　elder。　'Done；'　said　he。
　'I'd　better　not　be；'　said　Old　Pete。
　Omally　drew　his　partner　away　to　a　side…table；　'Now　that　is　what　you　call　business；'　he　told　Jim。　'The　old　bed　is　not　even　dug　out；　yet　it　is　already　sold。'
　Pooley　groaned；　he　could　already　feel　the　blisters　upon　his　palms。　'You　are　on　to　a　wrong'n　there；'　he　said。　'This　venture　has　to　me　the　smell　of　doom　about　it。　That　is　a　bomb　site　you　will　be　digging　on。　There　will　probably　be　a　corpse　asleep　in　that　bed。　Should　bed　it　in　fact　be　and　not　simply　a　shaft　or　two　of　nothing。'
　Omally　crossed　himself　at　the　mention　of　a　corpse。　'Stop　with　such　remarks；'　said　he。　'There　is　a　day's　pay　in　this　and　as　the　digger　you　deserve　half　of　any　thing　I　get。'
　'And　what　about　Norman's　wheel　and　the　many　millions　to　be　made　from　that？'
　'Well；　we　have　no　absolute　proof　that　the　wheel　spins　without　cessation。　This　would　be　a　matter　for　serious　scientific　investigation。　Such　things　take　time。'
　'We　have　no　lack　of　that；　surely？'
　'I　will　tell　you　what；'　Omally　finished　his　pint　and　studied　the　bottom　of　his　glass。　'I　will　chance　your　wheel　if　you　will　chance　my　bedframe。'
　Pooley　looked　doubtful。
　'Now　be　fair；'　said　John。　'There　are　degrees　of　doubt　to　be　weighed　up　on　either　side。　Firstly；　of　course　you　cannot　approach　Norman；　he　knows　that　you　are　on　to　him。　A　third　party　must　act　here。　Someone　with　a　subtlety　of　approach。　Someone　gifted　in　such　matters。'
　'Someone　such　as　yourself？'
　'Good　idea；'　said　John。　'But　time　is　of　the　essence；　we　don't　want　any　opportunists　dipping　in　before　us。　When　we　leave　here　you　collect　a　couple　of　tools　from　my　plot　and　whip　the　bed　out　and　I　will　go　around　to　Norman's。'
　If　Pooley　had　looked　doubtful　before；　it　was　nought　to　the　way　he　looked　now。　'I　do　not　feel　that　I　am　getting　the　better　part　of　this；'　he　said　slowly。
　'Better　part？'　Omally's　face　was　all　outrage。　'We　are　a　business　partnership　are　we　not？　There　are　no　better　parts　involved　here。　Surely　you　are　now　sowing　seeds　of　distrust？'
　'Who；　me？　Perish　the　thought。　The　fact　that　I　will　be　labouring　away　in　a　minefield　digging　up　a　rusty　old　bedframe　while　you　stand　chit…chatting　in　a　cosy　corner…shop　had　not　crossed　my　mind。'
　'So？'
　Jim　folded　his　brow。　'Whose　round　is　it？'
　'Yours；　Jim；'　said　John　Omally；　'most　definitely　yours。'
　
　5
　Norman　had　been　dancing　gaily　through　his　morning's　work。　Between　customers　he　had　skipped　backwards　and　forwards；　turning　the　enamel　door　handle　and　squinting　into　the　gloom　to　assure　himself　that　all　was　as　it　should　be。　The　wheel　had　been　tirelessly　spinning　for　more　than　four　hours　now　and　showed　no　signs　whatever　of　grinding　to　a　halt。　As　the　Memorial　Library　clock　struck　one　in　the　distance　he　turned　his　sign　to　the　'Closed　For　Lunch'　side；　bolted　up；　and　pranced　away　to　his　sanctum　sanctorum。　The　wheel　was　an　undoubted　success　and；　as　such；　meant　that　Phase　One　of　his　latest；　and　in　his　own　humble　opinion　undeniably　greatest；　project　was　plete。
　Norman　slipped　off　his　shopkeeper's　overall　and　donned　a　charred　leather　apron　and　a　pair　of　welder's　goggles。　Dusting　down　his　rubber　gloves　with　a　tube　of　baby　powder；　he　drew　them　over　his　sensitive　fingers　and　flexed　these　magical　appendages。　With　a　flourish；　he　dragged　aside　a　length　of　gingham　tablecloth　which　curtained　off　a　tiny　alcove　in　one　corner　of　the　crowded　room。
　Upon　a　worm…eaten　kitchen　chair　sat　another　Norman！
　Clad　in　grey　shopkeeper's　workcoat；　shirt；　tie；　trousers；　and　worn　brown　brogues；　he　was　a　waxen　effigy　of　the　Madame　Tussaud's　variety。　The　scientific　shopkeeper　chuckled　and；　reaching　out　a　rubber…clad　finger；　tickled　his　doppelganger　under　the　chin。　'Afternoon；　Norman；'　he　said。
　The　double　did　not　reply；　but　simply　sat　staring　sightlessly　into　space。　It　was　as　near　a　perfect　representation　of　its　living　counterpart　as　it　was　possible　to　be。　And　so　it　might　well　have　been　considering　the　long　years　of　Norman's　labour。　Countless　thousands　of　hours　had　gone　into　its　every　detail。　Every　joint　in　its　skeletal　frame　was　fully　articulated　with　friction…free　bearings　of　the　shopkeeper's　own　design。　The　cranial　puter　banks　were　loaded　to　the　very　gunwhales　with　all　the　necessary　information；　which　would　enable　it　to　perform　the　mundane　and　tiresome　duties　required　of　a　corner…shopkeeper；　whilst　its　creator　could　dedicate　the　entirety　of　his　precious　time　to　the　more　essential　matters　of　which　Phase　Three　of　the　project　were　posed。　All　it　lacked　was　that　essential　spark　of　life；　and　this　now　ground　away　upon　the　kitchen　table　at　precisely　twenty…six　revolutions　per　minute。
　Norman　chuckled　anew　and　drew　his　masterpiece　erect。　Unbuttoning　the　shirt；　he　exposed　the　rubberised　chest　region　which　housed　the　hydraulic　unit　designed　to　simulate　the　motions　of　breathing。　Tinkering　with　his　screwdriver；　he　removed　the　frontal　plate　and　applied　a　couple　of　squirts　of　Three…in…One　to　the　brace　of　mountings；　identical　in　shape　and　size　to　those　which　now　cradled　the　ever…spinning　wheel。　He　had　sought　far　and　wide　for　a　never…failing　power　supply；　having　previously　nothing　to　hand　save　clumsy　mains　cables　which；　even　when　disguised　by　poking　from　trouser　bottoms；　left　his　progeny　little　scope　for　lootion。　This　pact　unit　would　do　the　job　absolutely。
　Norman　crossed　to　the　table；　and　with　a　set　of　specially　fashioned　tongs　carefully　lifted　the　spinning　wheel　upon　its　polished　axle…rod。　It　turned　through　space　gyroscopically；　if　nothing　else　it　would　certainly　keep　the　robot　standing　upright。　With　a　satisfying　click　the　wheel　fell　into　place；　and　Norman　closed　the　chest　cavity　and　rebuttoned　the　shirt；　straightening　the　tie　and　workcoat　lapels。　The　shopkeeper　stepped　back　to　view　his　mirror　image。　Perfection。　There　was　a　gentle　flutter　of　movement　about　the　chest　region；　a　sudden　blinking　of　eyelids　and　focusing　of　eyes；　a　yawn；　a　stretch。　Clearing　its　throat　with　a　curiously　mechanical　coughing　sound；　the　creature　spoke。
　'Good　afternoon；　sir；'　it　said。
　Norman　clapped　his　hands　together　and　danced　one　of　his　favourite　silly　dances。　'Wonderful；'　he　said　with　glee。　'Wonderful。'
　The　robot　smiled　crookedly。　'I　am　happy　that　you　find　all　to　your　satisfaction；'　said　he。
　'Oh；　indeed；　indeed。　How　are　you　then；　Norman？　Are　you　well？'
　'A　bit　stiff；　sir；　as　it　happens；　but　I　expect　that　I　will　wear　in。　Is　there　anything　in　particular　you　would　like　doing？'
　Norman　clapping　his　hands；　'How　about　a　cup　of　tea；　what　do　you　think？'
　'Certainly；　sir。'　The　robot　rose　unsteadily　to　its　feet；　stretched　himself　again　and　waggled　each　foot　in　turn。
　Norman　watched　in　sheer　exaltation　as　his　other　self　performed　its　first　task。　The　tea　was　exactly　as　he　would　have　made　it　himself。　'You　will　pardon　me　if　I　don't　join　you；　sir；'　said　the　pseudo…shopkeeper；　'but　I　do　not　feel　at　all　thirsty。'
　At　a　little　after　three　p。m。；　Pooley　and　Omally　left　the　Flying　Sw