Robert Sheckley - Fishing season.

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Robert Sheckley
Fishing season
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They had only lived in the area for a week and this was their first
invitation to visit. They arrived exactly at half past eight. Kar-
the Michaels were clearly waiting for them, because the light on the veranda was on, the entrance
the door was slightly open, and from the living room windows there was a bright
light.
- Well, how do I look? - Phyllis asked in front of the door. Parting
straight, is the styling correct?
“You’re just a phenomenon in a red hat,” her husband assured her. Tol-
But don’t ruin the whole effect when you play aces. She quickly
I made a grimace at him and called. A bell sounded softly inside.
nok.
While they waited, Mallen straightened his tie and
distance, he pulled a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket.
“They must be making gin in the cellar,” he told his wife. -
Call again?
- No... wait a little. - They waited, and he called again.
The bell rang again.
“Very strange,” Phyllis said after a couple of minutes.Invitation
It was for today, right? - The husband nodded. The spring was warm and
The Carmichaels opened the windows. Through the blinds they saw the prepared
bridge table, chairs pulled up to it, plates of sweet
achievements. Everything was ready, but no one came to the door.
- Couldn’t they go somewhere for a while? - Phyllis asked
Mallen. The husband quickly crossed the lawn and looked up the driveway.
horn.
- The car is in the garage. - He returned and opened it with a slight push.
wider front door.
- Jimmy... don't come in.
- But I’m not going to. - He stuck his head inside. - Hey! Yes
is anyone home?
The answer was silence.
- Hey! - he shouted and listened intently. He heard how
the usual Friday evening sounds are heard from the neighboring house -
conversations and laughter. A car drove down the street. He listened. Somewhere
the board creaked in the house, and it became quiet again.
“They couldn’t just leave and leave the whole house wide open,”
he said to Phyllis. - Something could have happened. - He came in. She pos-
followed him, but hesitantly stopped in the living room, and he
went to the kitchen. She heard him open the door to the basement and
shouted: “Is anyone home?” Then he closed the door. He returned to the state
Tina, frowned and went upstairs.
Mallen soon came down with a puzzled face.
“And there’s no one there,” he said.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Phyllis, suddenly feeling nervous.
brightly lit empty house. Theydebated whether to leave
note, decided not to do this and went outside.
- Maybe we should slam the door? - asked, stopping,
Jim Mallen.
- What's the point? The windows are still open.
- And yet... - He returned and locked the door. They walked slowly
home, looking over your shoulder. Mellen always thought
that the Carmichaels will suddenly jump out from somewhere and shout:
"Surprise!"
But the house was still quiet.

To their house, a brick bungalow, exactly the same as the two
hundreds of other houses in the area, there was only a block. When they entered
Mr. Carter was making artificial flies on a card table.
for trout fishing. He worked slowly and confidently, and his catch-
Some fingers twirled the colored threads with loving care.
He was so immersed in work that he didn’t even hear them enter.
whether.
“We’re home, dad,” said Phyllis.
“Ah,” muttered Mr. Carter. - Look at this pre-
flattery - He picked up the finished fly. It was an almost exact imitation
hornet. The hook was cleverly hidden under alternating black and
yellow threads.
“The Carmichaels are gone... I think,” said Mallen, hanging up his jacket.
“I’ll try my luck on Old Brook in the morning,” Carter said. - U
I have a feeling that this is where the elusive fo-
rel. - Mallen smiled. It was difficult to talk to Phyllis's father.
vat. He hasn't spoken at all latelyother topics,
except fishing. When he turned seventy, the old man retired
this, leaving a very successful business, and completely surrendered to his beloved
mu sport.
And now, approaching the end of his seventies, Mr. Carter
looked great. Amazing, Mallen thought. Leather
pink, clear and calm eyes, gray hair neatly combed
we're back. In addition, he maintained complete clarity of thought - while you
talked about fishing.
“Let’s have a little snack,” said Phyllis. She regretfully
she took off her red hat, smoothed out the veil on it and put it
on the coffee table. Mr. Carter added to his creation
thread, examined it meticulously, then put the fly on the table and
came to their kitchen.
While Phyllis was making coffee, Mallen told the old man that
happened. He heard the typical answer.
- Go fishing tomorrow and get everything out of your head. Fishing,
Jim is more than a sport. Fishing is both a way of life and a
losophy. Do you know how nice it is to find a quiet backwater and sit on
shore. You sit and think: if there are fish in the world, then why
Shouldn’t she be found here too?
Phyllis smiled as she saw Jim fidget in his chair. When her
the father began to speak, it was no longer possible to stop him. And on-
he could talk about anything.
“Imagine,” continued Mr. Carter, “a young su-
debauched performer. Someone like you, Jim - here he rushes -
Xiasomewhere across the large hall. Is it common? But in the end
Along the long corridor, a trout stream awaits him. Imagine a political
ka. Of course, you saw a lot of them there in Albany. Briefcase in hand
all preoccupied...
“It’s strange,” said Phyllis, interrupting her father mid-sentence. In hand
he was holding an unopened bottle of milk.
- Look. - They bought milk from the Stan Dairy Farm
nerton". The green label on the bottle read: "Dairy Farms
Stanneron."
- And here. - She pointed with her finger. Just below it was written:
"Under the license of the New York City Bro. of Health." All this is like
It was a rough imitation of a normal label.
- Where did you get it? - asked Mallen.
- Yes, it seems to be in Alger's store. Maybe this is some kind of advertising...
new trick?
“I despise those who fish with a worm,” he said angrily
Mr Carter. - The fly is a work of art. But the one who
puts a worm on a hook, is able to rob orphans and set fire to churches
cove.
“Don't drink it,” Mallen said. - Let's look at the rest
I'm going.
They discovered several more fakes. On the sweets bar
It turned out to be an orange label instead of the usual crimson one. Found-
and a block of “American Cheese”, almost a third larger than
the usual packaging of this variety, and a bottle of “Gristy Vda”.
“This is all very strange,” said Mallen, scratching his chin.
rodok
“I always release little fish back,” saidmr
Carter. - Taking them is simply unsporting, and this is part of the fishing code -
fishing Let them grow up, mature, gain experience. I need
adult, seasoned fish that lurk under logs and bullets
they paradise when they see a fisherman. These are the guys you can fight with!
“I'll take this back to Alger,” Mallen said, folding
products in a paper bag. - If you see anything else like this...
No, save it.
“Old Brook is the best place,” said Mr. Carter. Exactly
That's where they hide.

Saturday morning was clear and gorgeous. Mr. Carter is able to
had breakfast early and went to Stary Ruchey, walking lightly,
like a boy. A tattered hat with curved brims stuck out from
on his head at a frivolous angle. Jim Mallen finished his coffee and
went to the Carmichael house.
The car was still in the garage. The windows were still open
smelled, the bridge table was set, and all the lamps were on -
exactly the same as the night before. This sight reminded Mel-
Lera once read a story about an abandoned ship that
was sailing under full sail and everything was in order on board -
but not a single living soul.
- Maybe we should call somewhere? - Phyllis asked when
he returned home. “I’m sure there’s clearly something wrong here.”
row.
- Of course. Just who should I call? - In this area they are almost non-
who they didn’t know. True, they greeted each other when meeting threeor
four families, but had no idea who else knew
Carmichaels.
The problem resolved itself when the phone rang.
“If it’s someone from our neighborhood,” Jim said when Phyllis
picked up the phone, then ask him.
- Hello?
- Hello. You probably don't know me. I'm Marian Karpen-
ter, I live in your block. I just wanted to ask... my husband
By any chance, did I come to see you? Metallic timbre of voice in body
background helped the woman hide her fear and anxiety.
- You know, no. No one has come to us since morning.
- Then excuse me. - The voice on the phone fell silent hesitantly.
- Can I do anything for you? - asked Phyllis.
“I can’t understand anything,” said Mrs. Carpenter. - George
- my husband - had breakfast with me this morning. Then he went upstairs for
jacket I didn't see him again.
- Yes?
- I'm sure he didn't go down. I went upstairs to look
wonder why he was delayed - we were about to leave - but he was there
there wasn't. I used to clean the whole house. I decided that George
plays, although he has never done this in his life, and looks
I dug under the beds and into closets. Then I looked in the cellar and asked
I told my neighbors about him, but no one saw him. I half-thought maybe he
came to see you - he once talked about it...
Phyllis told her about the disappearance of the Carmichaels. They talked
a little longer, then Phyllis hung up.
“Jim,” she said.she. - I don't like it. It will be better
if you report the Carmichaels to the police.
“And we’ll be fools when it turns out that they were with someone else.”
Zey in Albany.
- We'll have to do this too.
Jim looked up the police station number, but the line was
busy.
- You'll have to go yourself.
- And grab this. - She handed him a paper bag.

Police Captain Lesner turned out to be a patient man with a rosy
face, who had to spend the entire evening and most of the morning
listen to an endless stream of complaints. The patrol cops were
exhausted, the sergeants were exhausted, and he himself was the most exhausted. Them
no less, he invited Mallen to his office and listened to him
story.
“I want you to write down everything you told me,” he said.
Lesner when he finished. - He called us late last night
neighbor Carmichael reported the same thing. Now we are trying them
find. Counting Mrs. Carpenter's husband, that's ten per
two days.
- Ten what?
- Disappearances.
“Oh my God,” Mallen breathed and clutched the paper bag. And that's it
from the same city?
“Every single one,” said Captain Lesner sharply, lived
in this city in the Waynesville area. And not even in the entire region, but in
its four blocks, arranged in a square. He called the street
tsy.
“I live there,” Mallen said.
- Me too.
- Do you have any guesses who might be... the kidnapper? -
askedMallen.
“We don’t think it’s a kidnapper,” Lesner replied, lighting a cigarette.
smoking my twentieth cigarette today. - No demand notes
ransom price. No selection of victims. Of the majority of those who disappeared
the kidnapper wouldn't be able to get out a penny. And of all of them together -
nothing at all!
- So he's a maniac?
- Certainly. But how does he manage to capture entire families? Or
grown men like you? And where does he hide them, or their bodies? -
Lesner put out his cigarette with a sharp movement. - My people are searching
every inch of land in the city. Every police officer in the world does this.
twenty mile radius. State police stop cars. And we
didn't find anything.
- Oh, yes, here's another thing. -Mallen showed him the fake pro-
ducts.
“Here, again, I can’t tell you anything,” the prize-winner said gloomily.
Captain Lesner showed up. - I just don’t have time for this. Except
Others have also announced your products... - The phone rang, but Les-
Ner did not pick up the phone.
- Looks like black market goods. I sent some products
to Albany for analysis. I'm trying to figure out the channels of receipt. Voz-
maybe they bring it from abroad. Actually, the FBI could... damn
I got this phone!
He picked up the phone.
- Lesner is listening. Yes... yes. Are you sure? Of course, Mary. Now
I'll come. - He hung up. His flushed face suddenly
turned pale.
“It was my wife’s sister,” he explained. - My wife is missing!
Mallen racedhome at breakneck speed. He braked sharply, barely
did not crash his head into the windshield and ran into the house.
- Phyllis! - he shouted. Where is she? Oh god, he thought. If
she's missing...
- What happened? - Phyllis asked, leaving the kitchen.
“I thought...” He hugged her and squeezed her with such force that she
screamed.
“Indeed,” she said with a smile. - We’re not young after all -
wives. Even though we've been married for a year and a half...
He told her everything he had learned from the police.
Phyllis looked around the room. A week ago she seemed warm
loy and cozy. Now she began to be afraid of the shadow under the couch, and
the slightly open closet door made her tremble. She knew that
it will no longer be the same.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Don’t come closer,” said Phyllis.
-Who's there? - asked Mallen.
- Joe Dutton, your neighbor down the block. You've probably already heard
about recent events?
“Yes,” Mallen answered, standing in front of the locked door.
“We're blocking off the streets with barricades,” Dutton said. Sobi-
We try to look after everyone who comes and goes. It's time to...
this is the end of life, even if the police are unable to do anything. Hoti-
will you join us?
“You bet,” said Mallen and opened the door. There was a non-
a tall, stocky man in an old army jacket clutching
half-meter baton.
“We’ll seal off our neighborhoods tightly,” Dutton said. - And if
whoever they can kidnap, thenhe will have to be dragged underground
lei.
Mallen kissed his wife and left.

In the evening, a meeting was held in the school assembly hall. on him
all the residents of the surrounding neighborhoods and all the townspeople who
managed to squeeze into the hall. The first thing they learned was that despite
During the blockade, three more people disappeared from the Waynesville area.
Captain Lesner spoke and said that he had called Albany and asked
help. Officers on special assignments are already on their way, connected and
FBI. He honestly admitted that he has no idea who or what all this is
does, and why. He can't even imagine why
All those who disappeared turned out to be from the same area.
He also received the results of analyzes of counterfeit products, which
Some seemed to be scattered throughout the area. Chemists couldn't
detect no traces of poisons. This refutes the recently put forward
the theory that these products are used to intoxicate people
or forced to go where the kidnapper wanted. However
he warned that no one should eat them. For your own peace of mind
viya.
The companies whose labels were falsified completely deny
your involvement. They intend to sue anyone who
Equestrian will use or has already used their trademark.
The mayor spoke, and with a series of well-intentioned platitudes,
urged them not to take everything too personally; civilian
the authorities, he said, are keeping the situation under controlhands.
Of course, the mayor did not live in the Waynesville area.
The meeting ended and the men returned to the barricades. They
already began to look for firewood for the fires, but they turned out to be un-
necessary. A convoy with people arrived to their aid from Albany and
equipment. All four blocks were surrounded by armed patrols
new Portable floodlights were installed and throughout the area
A curfew was declared at eight o'clock.
Mr. Carter missed all this entertainment because he
spent the day fishing. By sunset he returned empty-handed,
but happy.
“It was a great day for fishing,” he announced.
The Mallens had a terrible night. They lay dressed, dozing
in fits and starts and watched as the reflections of the floodlights lit up their windows.
ditch Patrols stomped outside the windows all night.

On Sunday at eight in the morning two more disappeared. They disappeared with
territory of four blocks, guarded more carefully than con-
center camp.
At ten o'clock in the morning, Mr. Carter, having noted all the objections of the Mallens,
he put the fishing rod on his shoulder and left. Since the thirtieth of April he has not
let in not a single day, and the whole fisherman was not going to do this -
new season.
Sunday afternoon - another missing, total count reached
sixteen.
One o'clock in the afternoon, Sunday - all the missing children have been found!
A police car came upon them on the outskirts of town when
all eight of them, including the Carmichael boy,wandered in amazement
home. They were immediately taken to the hospital.
However, no traces remained of the missing adults.
Rumors spread faster than newspapers and
radio. There was not a scratch on the children. The psychics who examined them
Hiators discovered that children did not remember where they were or how
got there. All they could get out of them was re-
a feeling of flight accompanied by nausea. For safe
The safety of the children was left in the hospital under guard.
But by evening, another child disappeared from Waynesville.

Mr. Carter returned late in the evening. There were two in his backpack
rainbow trout. He greeted the Mallens cheerfully and went to
garage to clean fish.
Jim Mallen went out into the yard and, frowning, walked towards the garage.
He wanted to ask the old man about something that he had been talking about the day
or two ago. He didn't remember exactly what he was talking about, only that he
it seemed important.
A man who lived in a neighboring house greeted him, named
which he couldn't remember.
“Mallen,” said the neighbor. - I think I know everything.
- About what? - asked Mallen.
-Have you considered those theories about disappearances that were proposed to us?
is it? - asked the neighbor.
- Certainly. - The neighbor was a skinny person in a short shirt
sleeves and vest. His bald head glowed red in the rays of
walking sun
- Then listen. It can't be a kidnapper. In his action
viyahthere's no point. Right?
- Yes, perhaps so.
- The maniac also disappears. How could he kidnap fifteen, no,
sixteen people? And return the children? I'm not even capable of this
a gang of maniacs when there are so many police officers around. Right?
- Continue. - Mallen noticed out of the corner of his eye how step by step -
The neighbor's fat wife got off. She walked up to them and began to serve
to shuffle.
- In the same way, neither a gang of criminals, nor even a mar-
sian. It is impossible to do this, and if it is possible, then there is no point in
there is no such thing. We should look for something _illogical_ -
and we will get the only logical answer.
Meller listened and from time to time glanced at the woman who
Raya stared at him, folding her arms over her chest over her apron.
You could even say that she ate him with her eyes. Is she really
angry with me, thought Mallen. What did I do?
“The only answer,” said the neighbor slowly, is that
There's a hole here somewhere. A hole in the space-time continuum
nuume.
- What? - Mallen was amazed. - You know, I don’t know about such things -
I'm sorry.
“A hole in time,” explained the bald engineer, “or a hole in
space. Or both at once. Just don't ask me, from-
where did she come from; it exists - that's all. What happens if you
If you step on it, then - bam! - and you are already somewhere else.
Or at another time. Or both at once. Of course, a holeYou can’t see it, it’s four-dimensional, but it’s here. I understand
that if you trace where those missing people walked, you will discover
that they all passed through the same point and disappeared.
“Hmm,” Meller thought. - It sounds interesting, but there are many...
Some disappeared right at home.
“Yes,” the neighbor agreed. - Let me think... I know! This
the fool is not fixed, she drifts and moves all the time.
First she is in the Carpenter house, then she crawls somewhere else...
- Why then does it not go beyond our four
blocks? - asked Mallen, thinking about why the neighbor's wife
continues to glare at him, lips tightly pressed together.
- Well... - said the neighbor, - there must be some restrictions...
readings.
- Why did the children return?
- For God's sake, Mallen, you won't demand from me
explanations of all sorts of little things? It's just a good working theory.
We need to get more facts, and then we will figure it out.
- Hi! - Mr. Carter exclaimed, leaving the garage. He
kept two magnificent trout, carefully cleaned and washed.
- Trout is a worthy fighter and a delicious fish. Magnificent
Great sport and great food! - He slowly walked towards the
mu.
“I have a better theory,” said the neighbor’s wife, pointing
hands on powerful thighs.
The men turned and looked at her.
-Who is the only person to whomdon't care at all
to everything that happens to us? Who hangs around the whole area with
a bag in which _supposedly_ lies _fish_? Who _says_ that everything
spends his time fishing?
“Well, no,” said Mallen. - Not Grandpa Carter. He has
a whole philosophy about fishing...
- I don’t give a damn about his philosophy! - the woman squealed. He
He fooled you, but he won’t fool me! I only know that I'm the only one
a person in the area who doesn't care about anything and that he is somewhere
wanders around all day, and that he probably deserves at least
to the extent of lynching! - Having blurted out this, she turned and rushed to
to your home.
“Listen, Mallen,” said the bald neighbor. - Sorry. you
you know what women are like. She's still worried though
knows that Danny is in the hospital and nothing threatens him.
“Of course,” Mallen replied.
- She doesn't understand anything about space-time
continuum,” the neighbor frankly admitted. - But in the evening I tell her everything
I'll explain, and in the morning she will apologize. You'll see.
The men shook hands and went home.

Darkness came quickly and the city's floodlights came on. Lu-
Shades of light pierced the empty streets, looked into courtyards, reflected
escaped from the locked windows. Waynesville residents prepared to wait
new disappearances.
Jim Mallen was eager to get to the person who was doing all this.
does. At least for a second - no morewill be required. But he
All that was left was to sit and wait. He felt completely helpless
ness. His wife's lips were pale and cracked, her eyes were tired
from lack of sleep. But Mr. Carter was as cheerful as ever. He's tense
I fished trout on the gas stove and treated them to fish.
“I found a wonderful quiet creek today,” he announced. She's not-
far from the mouth of the Old Brook. I fished there all day, lay on
grass and looked at the clouds. Amazing thing, these clouds! I
I'll go there tomorrow and stay another day. Then I'll go to another place -
then. A wise fisherman never fishes one place until the end.
Moderation is also part of his code. Take a little, take a little
leave it. I often think...
- Dad, please stop! - Phyllis shouted and began to sob.
Mr. Carter shook his head sadly, smiled knowingly, and
I finished my trout. Then he went into the living room to make a new fly.
Completely exhausted, the Mallens went to bed...

Mallen woke up and sat up. His wife was sleeping nearby. Luminous dial
His clock showed four fifty-eight. It's almost morning
he thought.
He stood up, pulled on his bathrobe and quietly went downstairs. For
the living room window flashed the light of spotlights, there was a patrol on the street
ny.
A soothing sight, he thought and went to the kitchen. Quiet
As he moved, he poured himself a glass of milk. Was on the refrigerator
fresh pie, and he cut himself a slice.
“Kidnappers,” thoughtHe. - Maniacs. A hole in space.
Martians. Or any combination of them. No, all this is wrong." It's a pity,
that he didn't remember what he wanted to ask Mr. Carter. It was
something important.
He rinsed the glass, put the pie back on the refrigerator and
went out into the living room. And suddenly he was sharply jerked to the side.
Something grabbed him! He waved his arms, but it was possible to hit
no one. Something grabbed him with a steel grip and knocked him off his feet. He
leaned back in the opposite direction, resting his butt with all his might.
gami, but then he was torn off the floor, and he hung for a second in the air.
spirit, squirming and kicking his legs. His ribs were compressed so that he could not
breathe, couldn't make a sound. He was pulled upward.
A hole in space, he thought and tried to scream. His
flickering hands grabbed the edge of the couch, but she rose to
the air along with it. He jerked, his grip loosened for a moment, and
he collapsed on the floor.
He crawled towards the door. Then he was grabbed again, but he was already
le radiator. He grabbed it with both hands and held on tightly.
drank, resisting an unknown force. He twitched again and was able
release one leg, then the other.
The tearing force increased, and the radiator crackled ominously. Mel-
Len felt like he was about to be torn in half, but he held on,
straining every muscle to the limit. And then suddenly he was half-
completely let go.
He fell exhausted to the floor.

He woke up in the afternoon.Phyllis, biting her lip, splashed it in his face.
water. He blinked and took a few seconds to figure out where he was.
- Am I still here? - he asked.
-Are you okay? - Phyllis said alarmedly. - What happened? Oh
dear! Let's get out of here...
- Where is your father? - Mallen asked, rising to his feet.
- Fishing. Please sit down. I'll call the doctor.
- No. Wait. - Mallen walked into the kitchen. On the refrigerator
there was a box of pie. It said "Confectionery"
Johnson. Waynesville, New York." The letter "k" in the word "New York"
was capitalized. Indeed, a very small mistake.
And Mr. Carter? Maybe the answer is there? Mallen rushed at
top and got dressed. He crumpled the pie box and put it in his pocket.
man, then ran out into the street.
- Don't touch anything until I get back! - he shouted
Phyllis. She saw him get into the car and quickly drive away.
ta. Holding back tears with difficulty, she went to the kitchen.
Mallen reached Old Creek in fifteen minutes. He you-
got out of the car and went upstream.
- Mister Carter! - he shouted as he walked. - Mister Carter!
He walked and screamed for half an hour, getting deeper and deeper into the forest.
Now the trees began to overhang the water, and he had to go
wade to move fast enough. He was in a hurry and walked
faster and faster, splashing water, slipping on stones and dusty
hiding to run.
- Mister Carter!
-Hey! - He heard the old man’s voice. He followed the sound along the bo-
a tributary of the stream. There he found Mr. Carter, who
ry sat on the steep bank of a small creek, holding a long
new bamboo fishing rod. Mallen climbed ashore and sat down
house
“Rest, son,” Mr. Carter said. - Glad you pos-
took my advice about fishing.
“No,” Mallen said, not yet having time to catch his breath. - I want
for you to tell me something.
“Willingly,” said the old man. - What do you want to know?
- A fisherman never catches a creek completely, right?
- I won't. But anyone can.
- And more bait. Every good fisherman fishes with artificial
bait?
“I'm proud of my flies,” Carter said. - I'm trying to do-
make them as similar as possible to real insects. Here,
for example, an excellent copy of a hornet. - He pulled a yellow one out of his hat.
hook - And here is a cute mosquito.
Suddenly the line moved. The old man easily and confidently pulled out
brought the fish to shore. He squeezed the gaping trout in his hand and
hall to Mallen.
- He’s still a young boy - I won’t take him. - He's careful
pulled out the hook and released the fish into the water.
- And when you throw them back, do you think he’s still
will you get caught? Won't he tell the others?
“Oh, no,” Carter said. - Such experience does not teach them anything.
I came across some young fish two or three times. Themyet
you need to grow up, then they will become a little wiser.
- Maybe. - Mallen looked at the old man. Mr. Carter
he did not notice the world around him, he was not touched by horror, it was time
living Waynesville.
The fisherman lives in his own world, Mallen thought.
“If you were here an hour ago,” Mr. Carter said. What
I picked up a handsome guy then. Powerful guy, no less than two
lbs. Well, the fight was for such an old war horse as
me! And he lost it. But there will be others... Hey, where are you going?
- Back! - Mallenb shouted, noisily jumping into the stream. now
he knew what he wanted to find from the old fisherman. Parallel. Now
it became clear to him.
Harmless Mr. Carter pulling a trout was exactly
looks like another, more powerful fisherman, pulling...
- I’m running to warn the other fish! - he shouted, turning around,
Mallen, and clumsily hurried back along the bottom of the stream. At least Phyllis
I didn’t have time to eat anything! He pulled out a crumpled box from his pocket
from under the pie and threw her away with all his might. Damn bait!
And the fishermen, each in their own separate sphere, smiled and
cast their fishing rods again.

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