Westlake, Donald E - Novel 51 Read Online Free PDF

invitation—the International Society for Cultural
Preservation—he said, “Who are these people?”
                “They try to raise money,” the man
said, “to restore and preserve great works of art. Around the world, you know,
the accomplishments of civilization are being destroyed, mosdy by man. Acid
rain, deliberate destruction by builders, changes in the quality of our
sunlight, in many ways human art is being made to disappear. Stone statues melt
in this air, motion pictures fade, paintings rot, books crumble, archaeological
sites are plundered for trinkets to sell to the nouveau riche—” Grigor laughed;
he couldn’t help himself. “All right, all right, I get the idea. These are
do-gooders.”
                “They try.” The man shrugged.
                Grigor looked again at the
invitation. “Raise money,” he echoed. “From me?”
                “Oh, no, no. This is a promotional
party, that’s all. These people are trying to get our government interested in
their work”
                ‘They’re Americans?”
                “English, I think, at first. They
have members all over the world now.” Again the man shrugged. “For what good it
does.”
                Surprised, Grigor said, “You don’t
believe they’re doing any good?”
                “Oh, some,” the man said. “Some
small victories, here and there. But you know it’s said, ‘Rust never sleeps.’”
Then, more forcefully, he said, “And why try at all to save anything? It’s
coming to an end, anyway, isn’t it?”
                “Is it?”
                “Of course! We’re doing our best to
destroy ourselves and our history and even our planet! Grigor, look at all of
us in here. Why are we here ?”
                Now it was Grigor’s turn to shrug.
He’d gone past that question a long time ago. “Mistakes were made,” he said.
                “We’re moving into a world of
mistakes,” the man told him, then waved his hand in a dismissing gesture. “Let
it all go. It’s spoiled anyway.”
                Ah, well; Grigor knew that attitude
intimately. Why should the rest of the world go on as though nothing had
happened, when I am in here, with this ? The ones like Grigor without strong family ties were the most
subject to this sort of feeling, but it reached everyone from time to time.
There was no answering that attitude, of course, no particular reason why life should go on without Grigor, or any of
the other residents; one simply waited for the feeling to go away, and it
almost always did. But no one talked about it; that this man expressed it in words showed just how badly he’d been
affected by the “low” he’d mentioned.
                In any event, the issue was this
invitation. Shaking his head, Grigor said “I don’t see what this has to do with
me. Why should I go to this thing?”
                “Because you’d enjoy it,” the man
said. “And you’d get ideas for jokes there, I know you would. And you speak
English.”
                “Oh, well, not really.” Grigor
dismissed that by waving the hand with the invitation in it. “I studied English
in school, I can read it, but to talk.. .”
                “Then this is a chance to improve
your English,” the man said.
                “For what?” Grigor smiled at the
thought. “To make up jokes for Americans?”
                “For its own sake,” the man said,
and gestured at the invitation. “Take it, Grigor. Go or don’t go, it’s up to
you. Excuse me, I don’t like to stand this long.”
                “Yes, of course,” Grigor said,
awkward as they all were when brought face-to-face with each other’s
infirmities. Grigor was still much stronger than this man, which was a source
of embarrassment. He nodded, and the man