"Aldiss, Brian W - Short Stories" - читать интересную книгу автора (Aldiss Brian W)

strange with the rhododendrons unclipped and no signs of
children) and stopped by the front door, he sat in his seat for
three and a half minutes before venturing to open his door.
Then he climbed out and stood on the gravel, frowning down
at it. Was it as real as ever, as material? Was there a slight
glaze on it?as if something shone through from the interior
of the earth, shone through all things? Or was it that there
was a screen between him and everything else? It was impor-
tant to decide between the two theories, for he had to live
under the discipline of one. What he hoped to prove was that
the permeation theory was correct; that way he was merely
one of the factors comprising the functioning universe, to-
gether with the rest of humanity. By the glaze theory, he was
isolated not only from the rest of humanity but from the
entire cosmos (except Mars?). It was early days yet; he had a
deal of thinking to do, and new ideas would undoubtedly
emerge after observation and cogitation. Emotion must not
decide the issue; he must be detached. Revolutionary theories
could well emerge from thissuffering.
He could see his wife by him, standing off in case they
happened embarrassingly or painfully to collide. He smiled
thinly at her through her glaze. He said, "I am, but I'd prefer
not to talk." He stepped towards the house, noting the
slippery feel of gravel that would not move under his tread
until the world caught up. He said, "I've every respect for
The Guardian, but I'd prefer not to talk at present."
Famous Astronaut Returns Home
As the party arrived, a man waited in the porch for them,
ambushing Westermark's return home with a deprecatory
smile. Hesitant but business-like, he came forward and looked
interrogatively at the three people who had emerged from the
car.
"Excuse me, you are Captain Jack Westermark, aren't
you?"
He stood aside as Westermark seemed to make straight for
him.
"I'm the psychology correspondent for The Guardian, if I
might intrude for a moment."
Westermark's mother had opened the front door and stood
there smiling welcome at him, one hand nervously up to her
grey hair. Her son walked past her. The newspaper man
stared after him.
Janet told him apologetically, "You'll have to excuse us.
My husband did reply to you, but he's really not prepared to
meet people yet."
"When did he reply, Mrs. Westermark? Before he heard
what I had to say?"
"Well, naturally notbut his life stream... . I'm sorry, I
can't explain."
"He really is living ahead of time, isn't he? Will you spare